The sails were reefed, and the vessel was prepared for the warfare with the elements which awaited it.
The little cloud increased portentiously in size. All at once a strong wind sprang up, the sea roughened, and the billows grew white with fury, while the good ship, stanch as she was, creaked and groaned and was tossed as if it were a toy boat on the wrathful ocean.
The passengers were all seriously alarmed. They had never before realized what a storm at sea was. Even a man of courage may well be daunted by the terrific power of the sea when it is roused to such an exhibition.
“Harry,” said the professor, “this is terrible.”
“Yes, indeed,” answered the boy, gravely.
It became so rough and difficult to stand on deck, on account of the vessel being tossed about like a cockleshell, that Harry felt constrained to go below.
As he passed the cabin of Montgomery Clinton, he heard a faint voice call his name.
Entering, he saw the dude stretched out in his berth, with an expression of helpless terror in his weak face.
“Oh! Mr. Vane,” he said; “do you think we are going to the bottom?”
“I hope not, Mr. Clinton. Our officers are skillful men. They will do all they can for us.”