They had run the gamut of emotions, from the first cold prick of fear to the abandon of terror, and then to the ridiculous explosion. It was then that David saw a black spot which might be a “hole.” Cautiously he turned the trembling ship, and managed to approach it. He found that it was the haven which might save them, and carefully maneuvered her down into the whirling pit. The storm-tossed craft steadied, and with a great sigh of relief David lowered the Moonbeam down and down, into an area of miraculous calm. Below, the sea had been beaten into a flat surface by the driving rain. Above, the terrible floor of storm-tossed clouds had become a roof, from which hung wisps and threads of mist. A cold, clean, steady wind drove them toward the east. Once more David could hear the beloved, everyday noises of the ship. They were safe. Doctor Trigg patted Dulcie, and looked at his watch. “Only four o’clock,” he said cheerily. “Four days!” groaned a reporter. “That indicates the inadequacy of time as we divide it,” said Doctor Trigg, “Eh, Sims?” “Get up!” growled Doctor Sims, glaring at Wally. “And go to your room!” Wally, scrambling up, obeyed. “Twenty lines of Latin is indicated, too, Sims,” said Doctor Trigg, chuckling, “but don’t be too hard on the poor boy. His reaction is entirely a matter of temperament.” Doctor Sims rose. “Gr-r-r-r-r!” he retorted, and dusted his knees. In the control room, David could scarcely realize that the danger was really past. He felt weak and shaken. “Give me the wheel,” said Van Arden’s voice, at his side. “Can you make it?” David asked. “Surest thing you know!” Van Arden smiled. “I really am all right again, but you must be all in, Ellison. Go along. I’ll carry on.” Mr. Hammond took David’s arm. “Black coffee is what you need,” he said, and led him into the salon. David rubbed his hands. The fingers were stiffly crooked. He could hardly flex them, they had gripped the wheel so long. Dulcie, calm and collected, appeared from the galley, and sat down opposite him. She took the cup of coffee from the pallid chef, and served it. “An egg, and some marmalade and toast, I think, Cookie,” she said, smiling up into the plump, worried face. “Now, hero, don’t talk. Just relax, and get something to eat. Then you are to go to sleep for a week or so. Dad says so.” “Why, I’m all right, Dulcie,” declared David. “A little stiff, but that will disappear as soon as I move around.” “Anyway, you are to go to bed. Gee, wasn’t that storm a whiz-bang? I was never so thrilled in my life.” “Where were you?” asked David. “Right close to Doctor Trigg,” replied Dulcie. “He was calm as calm!” “You are a nervy kid,” said David, admiringly. “I’m proud of you.”