“Who taught you sailoring?”

“Captain Wilson taught me some, and—­”

“That’s enough.  You don’t need to mention anybody else.  What Wilson doesn’t know about sailing, sponging and fishing isn’t worth knowing.”

By noon they were about twenty miles southwest of North-West Cape and, as the wind had moderated, the reefs were shaken out and the bow of the Etta pointed due north, straight for Sand-Fly Pass.  The breeze grew less and less, and in two hours had died away entirely.  From the northeast a black, threatening cloud was moving slowly toward them, while the sails flapped idly as the Etta rolled to a heavy ground swell.  The cloud came nearer and grew blacker, while swirling little tails dropped from it, almost touching the water, and then suddenly returned to the black mass above.

“What a funny cloud,” said Dick to Captain Tom.  “Does it mean a hurricane?”

“No.  This is the hurricane month, but hurricanes always give a day or two’s warning through the barometer and that hasn’t changed a tenth in a week.  But this is worse than a hurricane if it hits us.  Those are waterspouts in the making, that you see dropping from the big cloud, and when one of them gets a good hold on the water you will see something that you won’t forget as long as you live, which won’t be a great while if it hits us,” said the captain.

Almost as he spoke a great inverted cone of cloud settled down from the mass above and touching the surface of the water set it whirling furiously.  The water from the Gulf was lifted skyward, in a column which constantly grew broader at the base while its pointed top, mingling with the almost equally solid cloud, gave hour-glass form to the huge, swirling, threatening mass that bore down on the Etta, within a half mile now.  Suddenly the waterspout separated from the great cloud mass and moved rapidly eastward.  For ten minutes the crew of the Etta watched it until, when more than a mile distant, the waterspout collapsed more suddenly than it had formed and from the foam-covered water a great wave rolled outward, spreading until the Etta rocked in its path.

“Thank goodness, that trouble’s over,” said Dick to the captain.

“Yes, but how about this one?” replied Captain Tom, as he pointed to the big cloud which was now within two hundred yards of them and more threatening than ever.  Another waterspout was forming and soon its roar filled their ears, while a towering mass seemed to spread over their heads, ready to fall upon and crush them.  Already, spiteful patches of wind, torn from the revolving cyclone, slapped the sails of the Etta as if to tear them from the mast.

“Shan’t I take in sail?” asked Johnny of the captain.

“No use,” was the reply.  “When that thing strikes us nothing will make any difference and a bit of breeze in the next minute might pull us out.”

For a long minute they watched the approaching demon which was now within a hundred yards and its tremendous suction was already disturbing the water about them when the captain shouted: