“This is a time of light airs, if unsettled,” he said. “Thunderstorms ashore don’t often bother ships at sea. There’s lightning in them clouds without a doubt, but like enough we won’t know anything about it.”
It was true the Marigold’s company was not disturbed in the least during the evening. After dinner the heavy mist drove them below and they played games, turned on the talking machine, and sang songs until bedtime. Sometime in the night Jessie woke up enough to realize that there was an unfamiliar noise near.
“Do you hear it?” she demanded, poking Amy in the berth over her head.
“Hear what?” snapped Amy. “I do wish you would let me sleep. I was a thousand miles deep in it. What’s the noise?”
“Why,” explained Jessie, puzzled, “it sounds like a cow.”
“Cow? Huh! I hope it’s a contented cow, I do, or else the milk may not be good for your coffee.”
“She doesn’t sound contented,” murmured Jessie. “Listen!”
The silence outside the portlight was shattered by a mournful, stuttering sound. Nell Stanley sat up suddenly on the couch across the stateroom and blinked her eyes.
“Oh, mercy!” she gasped. “There must be a terrible fog.”
“Fog?” squealed Amy. “And Jessie was telling me there was a cow aboard. Is that the fog-horn? Well, make up your mind, Jess, you’ll get no milk from that animal.”