Mr. Hammond’s face hardened. “I forbid it,” he said. “Understand?” and without waiting for a reply walked away, leaving David to stare at the ominous clouds, now shot with countless little veins of flame. “And I am captain and two navigators, all in one, and in full charge!” said David to himself, bitterly adding, “Like Mike, I am!” CHAPTER VII THROUGH THE STORM Dinner that night was a rather somber occasion. The ship pitched badly, and there was a good deal of difficulty in keeping the dishes on the table. When the waiters opened the door going into the galley, the chef could be heard calling down curses on the day he had left home. Mr. Hamilton was silent but stoical, while his secretary was near collapse. Wally’s verbosity was turned off like a spigot. He was green with fear. The reporters were suspiciously jovial. One of them was constructing a little model parachute with a few bits of wood, cloth and string. Questioned, he said smilingly that he was going to send down a bottle with a message in it. Doctor Sims remarked gloatingly, “Last message, I take it, if we are _in extremis_. Very interesting indeed.” “Don’t be morbid, Sims,” said Doctor Trigg calmly. “Look out for your coffee, and try some of that souffle. What mortal could possibly anticipate disaster when the cook can concoct such a delectable morsel?” “Gr-r-r-r!” from Doctor Sims, lunging for the saltcellar as it skated away. “Your mental attitude, Martin, always inclines to the flippant and dicacious. Personally, I find the present exuberant actions of the ship most distasteful.” “There goes your water,” Doctor Trigg retorted rather unnecessarily, as he held his own glass in one hand and speared souffle with the other. “Grr-r-r-r-ruh,” said Doctor Sims, rising unsteadily. He went to his cabin to get dry clothes, clinging desperately to wall and chairs. “Isn’t he sweet?” said Dulcie. Doctor Trigg studied her. “My dear, you have given me a new thought,” he said seriously. “A perfectly new thought. Sims—sweet—well, well!” The waiters hurriedly cleared the tables. With growing apprehension, the passengers clustered at the windows to watch the void beyond. Intervals of calm, as they passed the space between two storms, raised false hopes, for they were soon plunged into a roaring madness of elements. Then, all at once, they were in a maelstrom of elemental fury. Above, below, around them, a gale whined and shrieked. Solid sheets of water buffeted the ship, while flashes of lightning were continuous and so vivid that the control room was bathed in an intense, livid glare. Here, there, and everywhere storms gathered, moved upon the ship, and beat her mercilessly. As the gusts beset her from all sides, she pitched madly. They were now flying about a mile above the surface of the sea. Mr. Hammond came staggering into the control room and stood near David, but neither spoke.