“What do you mean?” asked Ned again, when Tom did not answer him immediately.  “What’s the excitement?”

“I think we’re in for a storm,” was the reply.  “The barometer is falling and I see the crew going about making everything snug.  So we may have a little trouble toward this end of our trip.”

“Let it come!” exclaimed Mr. Damon.  “We’re not afraid of trouble, Tom.  Swift, are we?”

“No, to be sure we’re not.  And yet it looks as though the storm would be a bad one.”

“Then I am going to see if my books and papers are ready, so I can get them together in a hurry in case we have to take to the life-boats,” said Professor Bumper, coming on deck at that moment.  “It won’t do to lose them.  If we didn’t have the map we might not be able to find——­”

“Ahem!” exclaimed Tom, with unnecessary emphasis it seemed.  “I’ll help you go over your papers, Professor,” he added, and with a wink and a motion of his hand, he enjoined silence on his friend.  Ned looked around for a reason for this, and observed a man, evidently of Spanish extraction, passing them as he paced up and down the deck.

“What’s the matter?” asked the scientist in a whisper, as the man went on.  “Do you know him?  Is he a——?”

“I don’t know anything about him,” said Tom; “but it is best not to speak of our trip before strangers.”

“You are right, Tom,” said Professor Bumper.  “I’ll be more careful.”

A storm was brewing, that was certain.  A dull, sickly yellow began to obscure the sky, and the water, from a beautiful blue, turned a slate color and ran along the sides of the vessel with a hissing sound as though the sullen waves would ask nothing better than to suck the craft down into their depths.  The wind, which had been freshening, now sang in louder tones as it hummed through the rigging and the funnel stays and bowled over the receiving conductors of the wireless.

Sharp commands from the ship’s officers hastened the work of the crew in making things snug, and life lines were strung along deck for the safety of such of the passengers as might venture up when the blow began.

The storm was not long in coming.  The howling of the wind grew louder, flecks of foam began to separate themselves from the crests of the waves, and the vessel pitched, rolled and tossed more violently.  At first Tom and his friends thought they were in for no more than an ordinary blow, but as the storm progressed, and the passengers became aware of the anxiety on the part of the officers and crew, the alarm spread among them.

It really was a violent storm, approaching a hurricane in force, and at one time it seemed as though the craft, having been heeled far over under a staggering wave that swept her decks, would not come back to an even keel.

There was a panic among some of the passengers, and a few excited men behaved in a way that caused prompt action on the part of the first officer, who drove them back to the main cabin under threat of a revolver.  For the men were determined to get to the lifeboats, and a small craft would not have had a minute to live in such seas as were running.