“There, I hit one big fellow!” cried Mr. Damon.  “Bless my bull’s eye, but I plugged him right in the mouth, I think.”

“I hope you knocked out some of his teeth,” cried Ned.

They fired rapidly, and while they probably hit some of the innocent porpoises in their haste, yet they accomplished what they had set out to do—­scare off the sharks.  In a little while the “tigers of the sea” as some one has aptly called them, disappeared.

“That’s the stuff!” cried Mr. Damon.  “Now we can watch the porpoises at play.”

But they did not have that sight to interest them very long.  For, as suddenly as the gamboling fish had appeared, they sank from sight—­ all but a few dead ones that the sharks had left floating on the calm surface of the ocean.  Probably the timid fish had taken some alarm from the depths into which they sank.

“Well, that was some excitement while it lasted,” remarked Tom. as he and Ned took the rifles back to the captain.

“But it didn’t bring out the mysterious passengers,” added Ned.  Tom shook his head and on their return to deck he purposely went out of his way to go past Stateroom No. 27, where the “Wilsons” were quartered.  The door was closed and a momentary pause to listen brought our hero no clew, for all was silent in the room.

“It’s too much for me,” he murmured, shaking his head and he rejoined his chum.

Several more days passed, for the Maderia was a slow boat, and could not make good time to Mexico.  However, our travelers were in no haste, and they fully enjoyed the voyage.

Try as Tom did to get a glimpse of the mysterious passengers he was unsuccessful.  He spent many hours in a night, and early morning vigil, only to have to do his sleeping next day, and it resulted in nothing.

“I guess they want to get on Mexican soil before any one sees their faces,” spoke Ned, and Tom was inclined to agree with his chum.

They awoke one morning to find the sea tempestuous.  The ship tossed and rolled amid the billows, and the captain said they had run into the tail end of a gulf hurricane.

“Two days more and we’ll be in port,” he added, “and I’m sorry the voyage had to be marred even by this blow.”

For it did blow, and, though it was not a dangerous storm, yet many passengers kept below.

“I’m afraid this settles it,” remarked Tom that night, when the ship was still pitching and tossing.  “They won’t come out now, and this is likely to keep up until we get to port.  Well, I can’t help it.”

But fate was on the verge of aiding Tom in an unexpected way.  Nearly every one turned in early that night for it was no pleasure to sit in the saloons, and to lie in one’s berth made it easier to stand the rolling of the vessel.

Tom and Ned, together with Mr. Damon, had fallen into slumber in spite of the storm, when, just as eight bells announced midnight there was a sudden jar throughout the whole ship.