Finding he could do nothing on deck, and that he was getting wet through, Dave went below and to his stateroom. He found Roger and Phil lying down as before, and as miserable as ever. A little later supper was announced, but Dave had to eat alone, for neither the captain nor the mate came to join in the repast. It was a meal under difficulties, and Dave did not remain at the table long. He asked Roger and Phil if they wanted anything, but both declined.
"Why, the very idea of anything to eat makes me sicker than ever," declared the senator's son.
The storm did not abate during the evening, and the three boys spent rather a dismal time of it in the cabin and the staterooms. As night came on, none of them felt like going to bed, although advised to do so by Captain Marshall.
"We have seen the worst of the blow," said the master of the Stormy Petrel, coming down about ten o'clock.
It was not until morning that Dave fell into a troubled doze, from which he did not awaken until Roger shook him.
"Hello! I went to sleep, after all!" cried the country boy. "What time is it?"
"About seven o'clock, Dave. There is something unusual going on on deck," continued the senator's son.
"What is it?"
"I don't know, but I am going up to see, and so is Phil."
The three were soon ready, and crawled up the companionway and out on the rain-drenched and slippery deck.