The heavens were as black as raven wings, the lightning played across them in streams of fire, the water was phosphorescently illuminated, while great masses of water, swollen into gigantic billows, burst into glittering foam over the deck.
"We are lost," cried Mike. "Holy Mary, have mercy," Zeke blasphemed, and then with all the superstition of his class declared that there was a Jonah aboard.
The captain heard him.
"What of it?" he cried. "We can't find the Jonah in this storm."
"I kin," answered the man.
"Perhaps it is yourself, Zeke; I remember we were nearly wrecked off Cape Cod the last time you were with me."
Vernon had turned the tables on the man, who now shivered with fear.
"Doan't say that, cap'n, or they'll throw me overboard."
Zeke had no more to say about Jonahs, and while he blasphemed the others prayed.
The storm ceased its anger, the winds were calmed down, the furious billows gradually subsided, and the Lively Bee drifted along as steadily as on a river.