Then, as the Greyhound fell away into the trough of the sea, with a peculiar sinking motion, he gasped:
“Dot subber vot I ate don’d seem mit me to agree. I pet you your life dot canned chickens vas sboilt. I peliefed all der time dot chickens vas a hen, but id vas der first hen I efer seen as didn’t vant to set.”
“Begorra! it’s saysack ye are alriddy,” chuckled Barney. “You’ll be kapin’ company wid Diamond dirictly.”
“Yaw,” gasped Hans. “I pelief you, Parney.”
Then he made a rush for the rail, and followed Jack’s example.
Darkness came on, creeping in a blue haze across the water. Shortly after nightfall there was a faint, weird moaning away on the surface of the sea, which glowed like liquid fire under the rail of the yacht.
“It’s the auld nick av a blow we’ll have,” declared Barney to Frank. “Oi don’t loike it at all, at all.”
“You like it quite as well as I do,” admitted Merriwell. “I am not familiar with these waters, and I do not fancy the idea of piling up on lea shore.”
The moaning arose to a shrill cry, and then the wind came with a sudden rush, catching the Greyhound and knocking her on beam ends in a twinkling.
Frank assisted Barney at the helm, shouting: