There was thunder and lightning, and soon a deluge of rain, fully as heavy as that experienced while on board of the ill-fated Old Glory. This continued all of the night, and in the morning the storm seemed to grow worse instead of better.
"We are in a run of bad luck," said Dick. "I really believe we will have all sorts of trouble before we get back to the United States."
Toward noon a mist came up, and it grew dark. Lanterns were lit, and the Tacoma felt her way along carefully, for Captain Fairleigh knew that they were now in the track of considerable shipping.
By nightfall the steamer lay almost at a stand-still, for the mist was thicker than ever. For safety the whistle was sounded at short intervals.
The girls were the first to retire, and the boys followed half an hour later. The staterooms of all were close together.
Dick Rover was the last to go to sleep. How long he slept he did not know.
He awoke with a start. A shock had thrown him to the floor of the stateroom, and down came Sam on top of him. There were hoarse cries from the deck, a shrill steam whistle, and the sound of a fog horn, and then a grinding thud and a bump that told the Tacoma had either run into some other ship or into the rocks.
CHAPTER VIII
FROM ONE SHIP TO ANOTHER
"We struck something!"