"Nae fear o' that," spoke up Sandy confidently.
The Northerner arose on a higher swell than usual, and then with a sidewise motion settled glidingly down into a watery hollow, rising the next instant on the crest of another roller. Her masts swept the sky in broad arcs. All at once Sandy released his hold on the rail and slid half across the deck before he brought up. His face had suddenly grown very pale. His freckles stood out on it in bright relief.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jack, noticing the woe-begone expression of his friend's face.
"Um?" inquired Sandy. "Matter? Naething's the matter, mon. O-h-h-h-h!"
"Seasick, eh? That's the last meal you ate ashore. I warned you against all that pie."
Sandy shuddered.
"Don't talk of pie," he groaned.
Just as Tom was about to suggest that Sandy go to his stateroom and lie down for a while, the second mate approached them.
"You young gentlemen are to go to the charthouse. Mr. Dacre says he has something to tell you."