"It takes a powerful lot of money to run a steamship," complained the old man. "If I'd a known how terrible much it took I don't believe I'd ever gone into this thing, though I do want to prevent my nephew from wasting his fortune, and this was the only way I saw, for it was useless to appeal to him or his father." "Still, kidnapping is a dangerous business," suggested Ike. "Don't say that word!" cried Mr. Larabee, quickly, looking around apprehensively. "Ain't I told you this isn't a regular kidnapping? I'm only doing it for his good. It ain't kidnapping in the real sense of the word." "Have your own way about it," conceded the ill-favored man. "I'm going to eat." Guy and Simon came back in about two hours, to report that Dick's yacht had been in Savannah, and had left. "Then we must get right after him!" cried Uncle Ezra. "I only hope we can overtake him before he gets to Cuba. It will be terribly expensive to go there. Now, get up steam, or make anchor, or whatever the proper term is, and sail fast. He may give us the slip." There was soon activity aboard the _Princess_, and a little later the dingy vessel, with her dingy crew, and the oddly-mated occupants of the cabin, were sailing over the course taken by the young millionaire and his chums. Ezra Larabee had undertaken a desperate and peculiar plan to "save" his nephew. It was not long before the pursuing yacht ran into the same storm felt by those aboard the _Albatross_, and, being a smaller and less staunch craft, the one hired by the old man pitched and tossed rather dangerously. Mr. Larabee had taken to his berth as soon as the ship left the harbor, for he was but an indifferent sailor, and the least motion made him ill. When the storm came his malady increased, and he thought surely his last hour had come. "Oh, why did I ever try this plan?" he wailed. "Why did I come to sea? I might have known better. I wish I was back at Dankville. Samanthy didn't want me to come, and I wish I'd heeded her words of warning. Oh, I'm sure I'm going to die. Get a doctor, can't you?" "There's no doctor aboard," said Ike. "But you'll be all right as soon as it stops blowing. I'll have the cook make some strong coffee for you." "Maybe that will make me feel better," gasped Mr. Larabee. "Oh, why didn't you get my nephew hid away when you had him in Hamilton Corners that night?" and he turned his face to the wall and groaned. "Haven't I told you it was because his dog attacked us?" asked Ike, indignantly. "We couldn't fight that dog." "Why didn't you shoot it? I hate the brute!" "So do I," murmured Sam, rubbing his leg reflectively. "I'll shoot it the next time I get a chance." "Do, and I'll give you a dollar extra," spoke Uncle Ezra. "Oh, how miserable I am! Is that coffee never coming?" "Be here directly," said Ike, grinning cheerfully at his crony, for they were used to rough weather.