The storm came up during the night, and Dave was awakened to find himself rolling from one side of his berth to the other. He arose, and as he did so he heard an exclamation from Roger.
“What is it, Roger?” he called out.
“I—I guess I’m seasick!” answered the senator’s son. “Gracious, how this old tub rolls!”
“Don’t call the Golden Eagle a tub!” returned Phil. “Say, can I do anything for you?” he went on sympathetically.
“Yes, tell Captain Sanders to keep the boat from rocking.”
“Better lie down again, Roger,” said Dave, entering the stateroom. “It’s a little better than standing up.”
“Oh, I—I guess I’m not so very ba-badly off,” gasped the sufferer. “But I do wish the storm was over.”
“We all wish that.”
But, instead of clearing away, the storm increased in violence, and by nine o’clock in the morning the wind was blowing close to a gale. Both the captain and the mate were on deck, and the former advised the boys and the other passengers to remain below. Two of the Englishmen were very seasick and found all manner of fault because of the storm.
“I’d never have come on this treasure hunt had I known I was to be so sick!” groaned one.