During the night a heavy gale from the southwest had sprung up and now the rain was beating fiercely against the cabin sides and playing a tattoo on the roof. There was a stiff wind behind it and the waves were running high. Under the double assault the _Vagabond_ was heaving at her lines and grinding dismally against the pier. Nelson, pulled on his oilskins and hurried out to see that the fenders were in place. In a minute he was back, wet and glistening. “It’s a peach of a storm, all right,” he said, shedding his oilskins. “The old sailors along the Cape used to tell us that a storm from the southeast was good for three days and one from the southwest was soon over. But it doesn’t look like it now.” It was so dark in the cabin that when Bob brought the breakfast to the table it was necessary to light the lamps in order to distinguish the scrambled eggs from the hashed brown potatoes. But it was very jolly to sit there with the fragrant steam from the coffee cup curling up past their noses and hear the rain rattle and sweep against the boat and see it go trickling down the port lights. Barry sat on the edge of a bunk and stared solicitously at Dan every time the latter raised his fork to his mouth. Dan would never feed him at table, but all of the others did so whenever they thought they would be undetected. Bob believed he saw a chance to transfer a half a slice of bread and butter from his plate to Barry’s mouth, but Dan interposed a quick hand and the bread went flying across the cabin to land face downward on Tom’s pillow. “If Tommy was here,” laughed Nelson, “I know what he’d say.” “‘Hope you ch-ch-ch-choke!’” mimicked Nelson. “Barry can have it now, can’t he, Dan?” he continued, as he rescued the bread and wiped the worst of the grease from the pillowcase with his napkin. “After we’re through,” said Dan inexorably. “Hard-hearted brute!” said Bob. “Why don’t you change masters, Barry? I’d be dre’ful good to you!” “Wonder if Tommy’s getting any breakfast,” observed Nelson thoughtfully. “Of course he is,” answered Dan, buttering another piece of bread. “Why, look at the time! He’s had two or three breakfasts by this!” “It’s funny, though, that he doesn’t turn up,” said Bob. “If we don’t find him to-day I think we ought to do something.” “What?” asked Dan disconcertingly. “Advertise in the Lost and Found column of the local paper,” suggested Nelson. “We ought to go back and look for him,” said Bob. “But we did look,” Nelson expostulated. “If he wasn’t there last night it isn’t likely he’d be there to-day.” “He might have gone somewhere and spent the day,” said Bob. “Then maybe he’d expect us to come back to the cove for him this morning.” “Well, he isn’t likely to wait for us long in this storm,” commented Dan. “And we couldn’t get down there very well, anyhow. I hope he’s keeping dry and warm, wherever he is, but I do think he was a silly ass to get lost again. This is the third time since we got together.”