“Well, I s’pose we might as well turn in, boys,” suggested Fenn, about nine o’clock. “I believe that is the proper term aboard a ship.”
“Yes, messmates,” spoke Ned, assuming a theatrical attitude, “we will now seek our downy hammocks, and court ‘tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,’ to arise in the gladsome morning, and ‘you must wake and call me early; call me early, mother dear, for I’m to be Queen of the May, mother; I’m to be Queen of the May!’”
“We’ll call you ‘loony,’ instead of ‘early,’ if you get off any more of that nonsense,” murmured Frank.
“That’s what,” agreed Fenn. “You’re not studying English Lit. and French history now, Ned.”
“Very well, most noble gentlemen,” went on Ned. “I shall obey you, right gladly, I ween!” and he made a dive for his stateroom before Bart, who made a sudden grab could lay hands on him.
The others soon turned in, and, in spite of their new and strange surroundings and beds, were soon sound asleep.
It must have been about midnight that Fenn was awakened by hearing a great tramping on deck. It was followed by confused shouts, and then came the jangling of the engine room bells. The Modoc seemed to increase her speed.
“I wonder if there’s another collision coming?” he said as he sat up. He heard Bart moving in the next room, and presently Frank’s voice was heard calling:
“Say, fellows, something’s wrong.”
The noise on deck increased, and it sounded as though several men were running to and fro, dragging ropes about.