“Tom lives on songs,” said Sam slyly.  “He’d rather sing than eat a pie.”

“Pie!” thundered Tom tragically.  “Who said pie?  I haven’t seen a home-made pie since—­since—­”

“The time you went down in the pantry at midnight and ate two,” finished Dick, and then there was a burst of laughter.

“Never mind, Tom, I’ll make you half a dozen pies—­when we get home,” came from Nellie.

“Will you really?” said Tom, and then he began once more, as gayly as ever: 

“You can give me pudding
And give me cake,
And anything else
You care to bake;
But if you wish
To charm my eye,
Just hand me over
Some home-made pie!”

“That’s all right,” said Dick.  “But in place of eye you should have said stomach.”

“Stomach doesn’t rhyme with pie,” snorted ’Tom.  “I’m a true poet and I know what I am doing.”

“Talking about pie makes me think of pie-plates,” said Sam.  “Let us play spinning the plate on deck.  It will be lots of fun trying to catch the plate while it is spinning and the steamer is rolling.”

“Good!” cried Grace, and ran to get a plate from the cook’s galley.  Soon they were playing merrily, and the game served to make an hour pass pleasantly.  When the forfeits had to be redeemed, the girls made the boys do several ridiculous things.  Tom had to hop from one end of the deck to the other on one foot, Sam had to stand on his head, and recite “Mary had a Little Lamb,” and Dick had to go to three of the sailors and ask each if they would tie the ship to a post during the night.

“I’ll wager you are a merry crowd on land,” .said Captain Fairleigh, as he paused to watch the fun.  “Takes me back to the time when I was a boy,” and he laughed heartily.  Even the captain’s wife was amused.  She was particularly fond of music, and loved to listen to the playing and singing.

The days slipped by one after the other, until Captain Fairleigh announced that forty-eight hours more ought to bring them in sight of Diamond Head, a high hill at the entrance to Honolulu harbor.

But another storm was at hand, and that night the wind blew more fiercely than ever.  The Tacoma tossed and pitched to such a degree that standing on the deck was next to impossible, and all of the boys and the girls gathered in the cabin and held fast to the posts and the stationary seats.

“It feels as if the steamer would roll clear over,” said Sam.  “Here we go again!”

There was thunder and lightning, and soon a deluge of rain, fully as heavy as that experienced while on board of the ill-fated Old Glory.  This continued all of the night, and in the morning the storm seemed to grow worse instead of better.

“We are in a run of bad luck,” said Dick.  “I really believe we will have all sorts of trouble before we get back to the United States.”

Toward noon a mist came up, and it grew dark.  Lanterns were lit, and the Tacoma felt her way along carefully, for Captain Fairleigh knew that they were now in the track of considerable shipping.