"Whew!" exclaimed Beeby, as he just avoided being tossed out of his berth, "rather rough, isn't it, Dick?" "Oh, so-so. Does it bother you?" asked Dick, from his stateroom. "Not a bit. I've got my sea legs on now, and I feel fine. I'm going on deck for a breath of air. Come along." They dressed hastily and, followed by the other lads, ascended the companionway, not without some difficulty, for at times the _Albatross_ seemed trying to stand on her beams' ends, while at others she appeared to want to plunge to the bottom of the sea. "It's some rough," remarked Paul Drew, as he clung to the handrail. "But the boat seems to go right through it," added the young owner, proudly. Once they poked their heads outside they were made aware that there was plenty of what sailors call "dirty" weather. There was a strong wind blowing, and a rain was falling, being driven sharply into the faces of the lads, while the spume and spray from the sea, with its tang of saltiness, soon made their cheeks feel as though they had on thin masks of brine. "Oilskins and sou'westers to-day," remarked Dick, as he dodged back inside, almost wet through from a brief dash across the deck. "It'll be stay below for mine," decided Frank Bender. "I can practise some of my new motions without much effort. All I'll have to do is to stand still and be tossed about." "Yes, stand on your head in the dishpan, balanced on a tumbler," suggested Paul. "You'll have a nice tumble, if you do." "And I guess you'd like to see me," suggested the aspiring acrobat. "Well, I'm not going to. Tim, you and I will get up a daily paper. We can gather news by wireless. I'll write out the sheets by hand, and you can sell 'em." "Sure," agreed the newsboy. "I'm lost without something like that to do. I'm not used to this sporting life. I'd like to see an extra edition out now." They ate breakfast under difficulties, and many cups of coffee were spilled in places not intended for them. But, for all that, it was jolly fun, and, donning oilskins a little later, they all went on deck, where they watched the big waves which were running quite high, their crests whipped into foam and spray by the wind, which every moment was increasing. Tiring of the exposure to the rough weather, they came below in about half an hour, and put in the rest of the morning at various occupations. Some wrote letters, to be posted when sighting the next inward-bound coast steamer; Dick was going over some details of the mysteries of navigation with Captain Barton, and Beeby was peacefully slumbering, braced up on a divan, with many cushions to soften his descent in case he was pitched to the cabin floor. The striking of eight bells, or the noon call to dinner, saw reassembled in the dining-room Dick and his friends. None of them seemed to have lost their appetites because of the rolling and pitching, for, by this time, even the most indifferent lad was a good sailor.