Isobel was petulant, and perhaps a little frightened. She had not yet reached that stage of confidence familiar to all who cross the open seas. The first period of a gale is terrifying. Later there comes an indifference born of supreme trust in the ship. The steady onward thrust of the engines—the unwavering path across the raging vortex of tumbling gray waters—the orderly way in which the members of the crew follow their duties—these are quietly persistent factors in the gradual soothing of the nerves. Many a timid passenger, after lying awake through a night of terror, has gone to sleep when the watch began to swab the deck overhead. Not even a Spartan sailor would begin to wash woodwork if the ship were sinking. “All ladies like to see an officer in the saloon during a storm,” commented Christobal. “I plead guilty to a weakness in that direction myself, though I know he is much better employed on the bridge.” “The captain cannot be on the bridge always,” said Isobel. “He is seldom far from it in bad weather, if he is faithful to his trust. And I fancy we would all admit that Captain Courtenay—” A curious shock, sharper and altogether more penetrating than the Thor’s hammer blow of a huge wave, sounded loud and menacing in their ears. The ship trembled violently, and then became strangely still. The least experienced traveler on board knew that the engines had stopped. They felt a long lurch to port when the next sea climbed over the bows; at once the _Kansas_ righted herself and rode on even keel, while the stress and turmoil of her fight against wind and wave passed away into a sustained silence. The half-caste stewards glanced at each other and drew together in whispering groups, but the chief steward, an Englishman, who had turned to leave the saloon, changed his mind and uttered a low growl of command which sent his subordinates’ attention, if not their thoughts, back to their work. In the strained hush, the running along the deck of men in heavy sea-boots was painfully audible. Water could be heard pouring through the scuppers. Steam was rushing forth somewhere with vehement bluster. These sounds only accentuated the extraordinary truce in the fight of ship against sea. The _Kansas_ was stricken dumb, if not dead. “Something has gone wrong,” said Elsie in a low voice. Doctor Christobal nodded carelessly. “A burst steam-pipe, probably. Such things will happen at times. We are hove to for the moment.” He traded on the ignorance of his hearers. The chief steward heard his explanation and looked at him fixedly. Christobal caught the glance. “I suppose we shall lose an hour or so now?” he asked. “Yes, sir. It will be all right by the time you have finished dinner.” The meal drew to its close without much further talk. The American engineer was the first to rise, but the chief steward whispered in his ear; he returned to the table.