“Mighty curious,” Joe bawled back, with a shake of his head. “About one chance in a million, I should say, that the door could close and hook itself.”
“How else could it have happened!” Halstead demanded.
At that, Joe had to admit that he had no theory of his own to fit the case. While they were still talking about it, Henry Tremaine, in rain-coat and visored cap, opened the hatch, and came out onto the deck.
“Keep hold of the life-ropes, sir,” Tom yelled at him. “Look out for this wave coming!”
Such a great weight of water rolled in over the low stern, flooding swiftly forward, that the “Restless” went low in the sea ere the salty ebb went out through the running scuppers.
“The weather’s growing stiffer, isn’t it?” demanded Mr. Tremaine, after the deluge had passed.
“Not growing any better, sir, anyway.”
“I’ve just told the ladies the weather is moderating a good deal,” Tremaine went on, talking at the top of his voice, in order to make himself heard. “They haven’t lost their courage yet, and there’s no sense in their being allowed to get scared. They won’t turn in, though. Say they’d rather sit up until the boat pitches a good deal less. Do you consider that there’s any real danger to-night, Captain?”
“Yes,” admitted Tom, honestly.