All about the sea
wore its fiercest aspect. Harry returned cautiously to his cabin.
"Well?" said the professor.
"One of the masts is gone," answered the boy. "The ship is having a
hard time."
"Is there danger?" asked the professor, anxiously.
"I am afraid so," said Harry, gravely.
At length the night wore away. The violence of the storm seemed to
have abated, for, after a time, the motion diminished. More
enterprising than the rest of the passengers, Harry resolved to go on
deck.
"Won't you come with me, Mr. Clinton?" he asked.
"I--I couldn't, 'pon my honor. I'm as weak as a rag. I don't think I
could get out of my berth, really, now."
"I'll go with you, my young friend," said Mr. Stubbs.
Harry and his Yankee friend set foot cautiously on deck. The prospect
was not reassuring. The ship rolled heavily, and from the creaking it
seemed that the timbers of the hull were strained. The sailors looked
fagged out, and there was a set, stern look on the face of the
captain, whom, nevertheless, Mr. Stubbs ventured to accost.
"What's the prospect, captain?" he asked.
"You'd better make your will," said the captain, grimly.
"That's cheerful," commented Stubbs, turning to Harry.
"Yes, sir," answered Harry, soberly.
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