"I smell land," had been Ben's sudden exclamation after one of the prolonged silences which, as has been said, possessed them that night.
The boys laughed.
"Laugh away," declared Ben, "but I do. Any old sailor can tell it."
"But we are two hundred miles at sea," objected Frank.
"Don't make no difference, I smell land," stubbornly repeated the old sailor.
"Maybe the wind is off shore and that's the reason," suggested Billy.
"A sensible suggestion, youngster," approved Ben. "I guess that is the reason for there is no island in this part of the world that I ever heard tell of. But say," he broke off suddenly, "what's come over the weather. It's getting black and the stars are blotted out. There's a storm brewing and a bad one, or I'm mistaken."
The boys agreed that there did seem to be every indication of an approaching tropical disturbance of some kind. The air had suddenly grown heavy and sulphurous. There was an oppressive quality in it.
"I'm going aft to tell the captain that there's a bad blow coming on or I'm a Dutchman," exclaimed Ben, starting to scramble to his feet.
"Better hold onto that stay or you'll topple overboard," warned Frank, as Ben, balancing himself, got into a standing posture.