“What happened?” she asked.
“We struck something,” said Mr. Brown. “But it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Things are quieting down.”
This was true. The Beacon had come to a stop on the rolling ocean, and though she rolled a bit herself she seemed to be in no danger. The noise of the shouting and talking also died away.
One of the stewards came through the corridor and spoke to several of the passengers who had their heads thrust out of their partly opened stateroom doors.
“There is no danger—no danger at all,” the steward said. “You may all go back to bed.”
“What happened?” asked Mr. Brown.
“Captain Ward thinks we struck a derelict,” was the answer. “Whatever it was, we hit it a glancing blow. The ship has suffered no damage and we are going on again directly. Probably it was only a small derelict we hit.”
This satisfied the passengers and they closed their doors. But Bunny Brown wanted to know something, so he asked his father:
“Is a derelict a whale, Daddy?”
“No. It’s a wrecked ship floating about in the water, sunk so low that you can hardly see it,” was the answer. “It drifts about, and, not being seen, derelicts are often struck by other ships.”