Jack was not there, so Frank and Bruce washed up and went out together.  They were nearly through eating when the Virginian came in and took his place near them at the table.

Usually the captain sat at the head of that table, but he was not there now.

“Where have you been?” asked Frank.

“Getting onto a few things,” said Jack, in a peculiar way.

“Why, what’s the matter with you?” asked Bruce, pausing to stare at the Southerner.  “You are pale as a ghost!”

“Am I?” said Diamond, his voice sounding rather strained and unnatural.

“Sure thing.  I wouldn’t advise you to eat any more, and perhaps you hadn’t better look at the chandeliers while they are swinging.  You’ll be keeping Rattleton company.”

“Oh, I’m not sick—­at least, not seasick,” averred Jack.

“Then what ails you?  I was going to prescribe ginger ale if it was the first stage of seasickness.  Sometimes that will brace a person up and straighten out his stomach.”

“Oh, don’t talk remedies to me.  I took medicine three days before I started on this voyage, and everybody I saw told me something to do to keep from being sick.  I’m wearing a sheet of writing paper across my chest now.”

When supper was over Jack motioned for his friends to follow him.  The three went on deck and walked aft till they were quite alone.

The “Eagle” was plowing along over a deserted sea.  The waves were running heavily, and night was shutting down grimly over the ocean.

“What’s the matter with you, Diamond?” asked Browning.  “Why have you dragged us out here?  It’s cold, and I’d rather go into our stateroom and take a loaf after eating so heartily.  By Jove! if this keeps up, they won’t have provisions enough on this boat to feed me before we get across.”

“I wanted to have a little talk without,” said Jack; “and I didn’t care about talking in the stateroom, where I might be overheard.”

“What’s up, anyway?” demanded Frank, warned by the manner of the Virginian that Jack fancied he had something of importance to tell them.

“I’ve been investigating,” said Jack.

“What?”

“Well, I found out that there is something the matter on this boat.”

“Did you learn what it was?”

“I don’t know that I have, but I’ve discovered one thing.  I’ve learned the kind of cargo we carry.”

“What is it?”

“Petroleum and powder!”

CHAPTER VII.

Premonitions of peril.

“Well, that’s hot stuff when it’s burning,” said Merriwell, grimly.

“Rather!” grunted Browning.

“If I’d known what the old boat carried, I think I’d hesitated some about shipping on her,” declared Jack.  “What if she did get on fire?”

“We’d all go up in smoke,” said Merriwell, with absolute coolness.  “That is about the size of it.”