"You're getting seasick," smiled Harriet, eyeing her friend sharply.
"No, I'm not," protested the little girl "You're getting thick yourthelf."
"I confess to being dizzy," admitted Harriet, "but I am not so ill that I must go to bed. Keep outside. You will be much better off than in the cabin, where the air is close and the others are suffering."
"I'm going to, thank you." Tommy stood braced against the cabin, her keen little eyes observing the now serious face of the skipper. "I gueth thomething ith going to happen," she observed.
"Don't tell the others," cautioned Harriet, with a warning shake of the head.
"I don't intend to. What ith it, a thtorm?"
Harriet nodded.
"I knew it. I jutht knew thomething wath going to break loothe."
The purple haze was nearing at a rapid rate of speed, and Harriet Burrell saw that with it the sea was piling up, its white crests angry and menacing.
"Try to keep the wind dead astern," ordered the skipper. "I will handle the sheets. Do you think you can manage it?"