"Oh! Mr. Vane," he said; "do you think we are going to the bottom?"
"I hope not, Mr. Clinton. Our officers are skillful men. They will do
all they can for us."
It was a terrible night. None of the passengers ventured upon deck.
Indeed, such was the motion that it would have been dangerous, as even
the sailors found it difficult to keep their footing. Harry was pale
and quiet, unlike his friend from Brooklyn, whose moans were heard
mingled with the noise of the tempest.
It was about three o'clock in the morning when those below heard, with
terror, a fearful crash, and a trampling of feet above. One of the
masts had fallen before the fury of the storm, and the shock made the
good ship careen to a dangerous extent. What happened, however, was
not understood below.
"I wonder what has happened," said the professor, nervously. "I think
I will go up and see."
He got out of his berth, but only to be pitched helpless to the other
end of the cabin.
"This is terrible!" he said, as he picked himself up.
"I will try my luck, professor," said Harry.
He scrambled out of his berth, and, with great difficulty, made his
way upstairs.
One glance told him what had occurred. The crippled ship was laboring
through the sea. It seemed like a very unequal combat, and Harry might
be excused for deciding that the ship was doomed.
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