"Boys, will you take me along when you go?" asked the professor anxiously. "If there is any chance of getting a Viking flea I would like to. It would make my name famous. I could write a book about it, too."
"But you've got a book to write already about the Patagonians," objected Frank.
"Bless me, so I have," exclaimed the absent-minded old man. "However that can wait. A Viking flea would be a novelty indeed."
At this moment loud tramplings on the deck overhead and shouts apprised them that something out of the ordinary must be occurring. Just as they were about to emerge from the cabin the captain rushed in. He seemed much excited.
"My fur coat, quick," he cried, seizing the garment from Frank, who had snatched it from its peg and handed it to him.
"What has happened?" asked Frank.
The words had hardly left his lips before there came a terrible grinding and jarring and the Southern Cross came to a standstill. Her bow seemed to tilt up, while her stern sank, till the cabin floor attained quite a steep slope.
"What can be the matter?" cried the professor, as he dashed out after the boys and the captain, the latter of whom had been much too excited to answer Frank's question.