"What did it all mean?" thought Jack, and he tried hard to collect himself. Yes, they came on board three or four days before, he was not sure which. He remembered that. He had been frightfully ill, and oh, so sick. He remembered that too. Then he recalled about preparing for the worst last night, when the storm increased, and thinking as he lay down in his berth, weak as a baby, that it was very grand to be able to act as his father and Doctor Instow did, for they were perfectly resigned, and he had seen them sitting down playing a game of chess with a board full of holes into which the chess-men stuck like pegs. Then in full force his brain seemed to assert itself. The worst had come, and it was his duty to awaken his father and Doctor Instow, so that they might all save themselves by taking to one of the boats or a raft. _Boomp! Splash. U-r-r-r-r_! A wave striking the yacht's bows--the water deluging the deck. A spasm of fear shot through him, and he made a dash to catch up his yachting cap and pea-jacket with gilt anchor buttons which he had had on the previous night; but as soon as he quitted his hold, he was literally at sea, and the floor of his little state-room rising up, he seemed to be pitched head-first into his berth as if diving, but he managed to save himself from injury, and dropped on to the floor, crawled to his jacket, slipped it on, and then out into the saloon, to see that the tin box--one which the doctor had had brought on board full of necessaries for their fishing and collecting trips--had reached the saloon door, but could get no further. But what was a box to a man? Jack crept to his father's door, beat upon it, and then dragged it open to find the berth empty. "Gone and left me," groaned the lad in his misery and despair. "How horrible! No; he is making a raft, and will come and fetch me soon.-- Oh!" He clutched at the door to save himself, for the yacht suddenly made a dive, and he felt that they were going down into the vast depths of the sea; but he did not save himself, for the door played him false and helped to shoot him right across the saloon, and he was brought up by the door of the doctor's tiny room. Recovering himself he desperately clutched at the handle, dragged the door open, and as the yacht prepared for another dive, he shot in against the berth, punching its occupant heavily in the ribs, and snatching at the clothes as he held on. The doctor uttered a deep grunt, but did not stir. "Doctor! doctor!" panted Jack. "Wake up! Quick! We're sinking." "Eh? All right!" came in a deep muffled voice. "Oh, wake up, wake up!" cried Jack. "I can't leave him to drown. Doctor! doctor!" "All right!" came fiercely, as Jack seized the sleeper by the shoulders. "Tell 'em--only jus' come abed." "Doctor! doctor!" "Tell 'em--give--warm bath--mustard." "But we're sinking," cried Jack wildly. "Eh? Whose baby is it? What's matter--Jack? Taken ill?" "No, no. Quick! Come on deck."