“What time is it?” asked Eleanor of Tom Latimer.
“It must be near dawn,” added Polly, anxiously.
“Well, it isn’t,” replied Tom, as he took out his watch. “I had not yet taken off my coat and vest when this storm came upon us. I rushed out of my room at the first blow and offered my services to the Captain, but he had prepared, thank God! We wouldn’t be talking over events now had he not understood the forecast of the weather.”
Tom showed the two girls his watch and to their surprise they realized that all had happened in less than twenty minutes. It was but just one o’clock.
“Then we ought to get back to bed and coax our beauty sleep to soothe our nerves,” laughed Mrs. Courtney.
“So we shall, as soon as Shink sends in our hot malted milk. He claims it will soothe any nerves—the way he can concoct it. I ordered him to prepare a cauldronful for the crew, too, as they needed calming more than any one I ever saw. Not from fear or nerves, but from doing the work of ten times their number in order to keep us afloat.” Mr. Dalken seemed seriously thoughtful for a moment after he spoke, then he added:
“I am the only one here who realizes the close call we had. The Captain with his preventive measures before the storm broke, and the ready obedience of his crew, saved us this night. Not only did we run foul of one of the fiercest hurricanes that sweep over the sea at this latitude, but we also managed to get under the deluge that broke when the hurricane began to lose power and let go its hold on the great mass of water it managed to hold aloft during its swift circling about our poor little craft.
“Thank God for that Swedish lad! Had it not been for his powerful muscle in the moment of extremity, we would now be without a Captain. It all happened so suddenly that no one had time to think. The sudden cloud burst, or water spout, fell just as Captain Blake started to cross the deck, and the volume of water would have carried him overboard but for that young giant. Instead of thinking he acted. He threw an arm about the brass bar and caught hold of the Captain’s arm as he was washed past him. With a grip like steel the rescuer managed to work his way, hand over hand clutching to the water-washed rail, until he had reached safety.
“Well, such is the life of a sea-faring man!” concluded Mr. Dalken, as he sat and thought of the past danger.