I leaped out of bed. The thought of “then we were going to” fully awoke me. “Yes, we are going to go at it; everything depends upon to-day,” I thought, and put my feet into my slippers.
Hardly had I scrambled to my feet when I had to grasp the closet to support myself.
“What’s up now?” I asked, turning to my good Pole, who was spitting on my left boot in order to preserve the shine. “We are rolling. What’s happened?”
“Must be a little sea above,” he replied with a grin.
“I can understand that myself, you smarty, but when did it start? Run along quickly and find out when the rolling was first noticed!”
Tuczynski hurried to the “Centrale” and returned immediately with his answer:
“About two o’clock, says Lieutenant Petersen.”
“Well, then we must have a considerable storm above, if the wind has been blowing for four hours. Get out my oil-skin coat quickly! It will be needed to-day,” I ordered, and hurriedly dressed myself as water-tight as possible.
The change of weather did not suit my purpose, for, although to judge from the motion of the boat the storm was not as yet so bad, the strength of the wind was probably six, and it was gradually becoming worse. At this time of the year storms could be terrible.
“Devil take the luck—and this very day, too!” I swore through my six-day old beard-stub.