As the skiff dashed alongside the _Venture_ the vast, glowing, seething
mass of flame, smoke, and crashing timbers swept by so close that the
raftmates were obliged to seek a shelter in the cool waters from its
deadly heat. Clinging to the edge of the raft, with their bodies
entirely submerged, they gazed breathlessly and with blinded eyes at
the grandest and most awful sight to be seen on the Mississippi. It
was a huge lower-river packet, and was completely enveloped in roaring
flames that poured from every opening, and streamed furiously from the
tall chimneys the trailing banners of the fire-fiend. The boat was
under a full head of steam, her machinery was still intact, and the
great wheels, churning the glowing waters into a crimson foam, forced
her ahead with the speed of a locomotive. The back draught thus caused
kept the forward end of her lower deck free from flame. Here, as she
rushed past, the boys caught a glimpse of the only sign of life they
could discover aboard the ill-fated packet. It was a dog leaping from
side to side, and barking furiously.
They had hardly noted his presence when a curious thing happened.
There came an explosion of steam, a crash, and the starboard wheel
dropped from its shaft. Thus crippled, the blazing craft made a grand
sweep of half a circle in front of the raft.
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