“That’s enough for me!” cried Fenn, as he made his way to the companionway and went below. The other boys followed, as the commander said it was hardly safe on deck. The Modoc was now laboring amid the big waves. The lookout, scanning the waste of waters for a sight of land, could see nothing but blackness ahead.
It did not seem quite so bad to the boys, after they were in the cabin, though they had to sit braced in chairs to avoid tumbling out when the vessel pitched and tossed, and it was quite a task to move about, for there was danger of bringing up against some piece of furniture, or the cabin partitions.
“An ocean voyage isn’t in it with this,” declared Ned. “It’s great!”
“It may be, but it makes me feel sick,” declared Fenn. “I’m going to lie down in my bunk.”
This he did, saying he felt better when stretched out. The other boys followed his example, as the pitching was a little too much for them. They soon grew accustomed to it, however, and presently they noticed that the motion seemed less violent.
“We must have come to anchor,” said Bart.
“More likely we’re inside some harbor,” declared Ned.
They went up on deck and found that, though it was still raining hard, the wind had died down a little, which made the boat ride easier.
“Where are we?” called Fenn, to Captain Wiggs, who was pacing the deck.
“Just entering the Detroit River,” was the reply. “We’ll tie up at Detroit for the night. How are you, boys?”