He thought to make them stepping stones to an acquaintance with their sisters, and congratulated himself on his success when, on being summoned to return to their mother, they asked eagerly if he would not tell them more to-morrow.

“Just try me, my fine fellows,” he answered, laughing.

“Mamma, what do you want with us?” they asked, running up to her.  “A gentleman was telling us such nice stories.”

“I think the call to supper will come very soon,” she said, “and I want you to smooth your hair and wash your hands.  Dinah will take you to your state-room and see that you have what you need.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have a gust,” remarked Isadore as the lads hurried away to do their mother’s bidding; “see how the clouds are gathering yonder in the northwest.”

“A thunder-storm at sea; how romantic!” said Virginia; “’twill be something to talk about all our lives.”

“Silly child!” said her mother, “to hear you talk, one would think there was no such thing as danger.”

“Pshaw, mamma! we’re hardly out of sight of land—­our own shores,” she retorted.

“That would but increase our danger if the storm were coming from the opposite direction,” said her uncle; “but fortunately, it is from a quarter to drive us out to sea.”

“Do you think it will be a gust, grandpa?” asked Violet, a little anxiously.

“I fear so; the heat has become so oppressive, the breeze has entirely died down, and the clouds look threatening; but, my child, do not fear; our Father, God, rules upon the sea as well as the land; the stormy wind fulfilling his word.”

The storm came up rapidly, bursting on them in its fury before they had left the tea-table; the lightning’s flash and the crash and roll of the thunder followed in quick succession; the stentorian voices of the officers of the vessel, shouting their orders to the crew, the heavy hasty tramp of the men’s feet, the whistling of the wind through the rigging, the creaking of the cordage, the booming of the sea, mingling with the terrific thunder claps and the down-pouring of the rain, combined in an uproar fit to cause the stoutest heart to quake.

Faces grew pale with fear; the women and children huddled together in frightened groups; the men looked anxiously at each other, and between the thunder peals, spoke in low tones of the danger of being driven out to sea, and asked each other of the captain’s skill, on what part of the coast they were, and whether the vessel were strong enough to outride the tempest, should it continue long.

“Oh, this is dreadful!  I’m afraid we shall all go to the bottom, if it keeps on much longer,” Mrs. Conly was saying to her niece, when there came a crash as if the very sky were falling; as if it had come down upon them; a shock that threw some from their seats, while others caught at the furniture to save themselves; the vessel shivered from stem to stern, seemed to stand still for an instant, then rushed on again.