The two shook hands. Mr. Whyland appeared to be a pleasant gentleman, and Oliver thought they would be friends. He did not dream how well acquainted they were destined to become.
“Where is your chum now?” asked Mr. Whyland.
“In the stateroom, sick.”
As Oliver spoke a tremendous wave broke over the deck, wetting both him and Mr. Whyland. A moment later one of the deck-hands came forward with word that all the passengers had been ordered below.
“That means us too,” said Mr. Whyland. “Come, let us adjourn to the cabin.”
It was with difficulty that they descended the companionway. When half-way down Oliver slipped, and had it not been for his friend would have rolled to the bottom.
In the cabin they found a motley crowd assembled—mostly passengers who were too frightened to retire to their staterooms. Amongst them was the head steward and two other officers, trying all they could to quiet the fears that were expressed.
“Nothing unusual, sir,” said the steward to Oliver; “I’ve passed through a dozen of ’em.”
“Excuse me; one is enough,” laughed the boy; “and you may depend upon it I will never forget the experience.”
He and Mr. Whyland took a seat well forward, and began to talk over the prospects. Presently Oliver felt a hand on his arm, and turning, saw Gus standing beside him.