“It’s a humdinger all right,” declared Tom, as he glanced out of an observation window while waiting for Eradicate to bring the storm garments from a locker.
“Bless my nose-guard, I’ll say it is!” chimed in Mr. Damon. “I never saw a worse one.”
“Oh, we’ve been in just as severe ones before,” observed Tom, in what seemed a cool voice. “When we were trying out the flying boat I remember a storm when I thought we never would get through it. This is bad enough, but the Osprey can buck it I think.”
“Ah knows Massa Tom gwine to pull us through all right,” said Eradicate, with a glance at Koku. “Ah isn’t scairt, no how!”
“Huh! Black man talk big—but him knees shake all same,” sneered the giant.
“Whose knees am shakin’, big man? Whose knees am shakin’?” demanded the colored servant, as he strode toward the big fellow. It seemed as if he might try to punch Koku.
“That will do,” commanded Tom in a low voice. He had troubles enough on hand without a fight starting between his two helpers.
A signal was given for Wright to descend to the cabin, and when he came down Tom went up through the enclosed ladder.
“Is it bad up there?” he asked his workman.
“Bad?” was the reply. “Say, you ought to feel it!” He was wet through—as dripping as though he had fallen into a tub of water.