“Phew!” exclaimed Sir Reginald, as the party stepped out on deck; “this is the hottest night we have had this trip, and stark calm. What does it mean, skipper? I thought that we were now in the monsoon region.”
“So we are; but, as you see, the wind has fallen calm,” answered Mildmay. “Moreover, the mercury is dropping a good deal faster than I like; and this thickening up of the atmosphere means bad weather; I am sure of it.”
“Very bad weather, do you mean, Mildmay, or merely a bit of a breeze?” questioned Sir Reginald.
“Something very much worse than ‘a bit of a breeze,’ I imagine,” was the reply. “Indeed, it would not greatly surprise me to find that we are in for a regular typhoon.”
“A typhoon!” ejaculated Lethbridge, who was standing close by; “that means something pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
“Well, about the same sort of thing as we encountered upon the memorable occasion when we saved the life of the lady who is now our charming and gracious hostess,” answered Mildmay.
“What is that? Are you talking about me?” demanded Lady Olivia, who, a few feet away, had happened to catch the word “hostess.”
“Mildmay has just been telling us, my dear, that appearances point to the approach of a gale of somewhat similar character to that which occurred in the Bay of Bengal on a certain memorable occasion,” explained her husband.
“Oh dear, how dreadful!” exclaimed Lady Olivia. “I shall never forget that time,”—with a shudder—“it comes to me, even now, sometimes, in my dreams. Shall we be in any danger, Captain?”
“Danger! in such a ship as this?” cried Mildmay. “None whatever. But, of course, if you feel nervous, we can go up aloft, and avoid it by the simple process of rising above it; or we can descend one or two hundred feet below the surface, and ride it out there.”