There was a curious stillness to the air, and the ocean had a queer oily look, the waves heaving restlessly as though they were impatient at their slow motion, and wanted to break into a wild revel.
Off to the west there was a murky, yellowish look to the sky, and, now and then, there came puffs of wind that had in them a hint of great force and power.
“We had better make everything as snug as possible,” advised Mr. De Vere. “If it comes on to blow in the night we’ll have our hands full to manage the boat.”
CHAPTER XXV.
IN A BAD STORM
Shortly after midnight, Jerry who was to take the last, or dog-watch was awakened by Ned shaking him in his bunk.
“What—what’s the matter?” asked Jerry sleepily.
“You’d better get up I think. The boat is pitching something fierce, and it’s beginning to blow great guns.”
“Um!” exclaimed Jerry, as he got out of his bunk, and was thrown up against a bulkhead by a roll of the boat. “I should say it was pitching some. Where’s Rob? Where’s Mr. De Vere?”
“I didn’t call them. I thought I’d tell you first and see what you thought.”
“Wait until I take a look outside,” said Jerry, dressing as best he could while swaying to and fro with the motion of the Ripper.