The outlook was truly startling. The ocean was whipped up into a milk-white foam and was dashing and churning in all directions. One tremendous wave was rolling straight to the southward, and on this the bark was riding, like a monkey on a runaway race horse. The wind was whistling through the rigging, and the sky was filled with dark clouds and a strange, whitish dust.
"What is this?" called Dave to the captain, as the latter passed.
"It's a tidal wave!" yelled back Captain Marshall. "There has been another earthquake, and, most likely, some of the volcanoes in this vicinity have become active."
"Are we going down, as that sailor said?"
"Not yet. I will warn you, if there is any danger of our sinking."
"You can't put out any small boats, can you?" asked Phil.
"No, a small boat would not live a minute in such a sea as is now running."
"Has anybody been washed overboard?" asked Roger.
"I believe not—but I am not sure. It came on so sudden, we had no time to prepare for it," said Captain Marshall.
"Mr. Van Blott is below," said Dave.