“What—would we go there?” Norah queried, much excited.
“Not much!” said the captain, with emphasis. “Too many mines and submarines about, Miss Norah, to take passengers on cross-Channel excursions. No, I guess I’d have to land you all at some Channel port. They say we’ll hear by wireless—meanwhile, I wouldn’t advise you to label your luggage.”
Mr. Linton looked anxious.
“I’ll be just as glad if we don’t have the trip up the Channel,” he said. “There would be no further danger of cruisers, I suppose; but one does not feel encouraged by the idea of floating mines—not with daughters about.”
“Indeed, you catch me letting you meet a mine alone!” said Norah hastily. “Me, that can hardly trust you to change your coat when it’s wet!” Whereat the Captain chuckled and departed.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
PERHAPS the last week of the voyage was the longest of all.
From Las Palmas the Perseus ran into bad weather, and the Australians were sharply reminded that instead of their own hot December they were coming to English winter. Ice-cold gales blew day and night; the decks were constantly swept by drifting showers of sleety rain. It was often impossible to keep cabin port-holes open, even in the day-time, since the waves were high; and at night they were definitely closed. Wally, who had opened his on a night that was deceptively calm, was found by Jim “awash,” a wave having entered and deluged everything. Wally was equally apologetic and wrathful; he paddled in the chilly flood, rescuing damp boxes from under the berths.
“I’m awfully sorry, old man,” he said penitently. “The cabin was so horrid stuffy—and the waves seemed quiet. I think”—hopefully—“that my things have got the worst of the mess, anyhow.”