Two or three hours passed, and ten o’clock came. By that time the wind had increased to a fresh, strong breeze, and the sea had risen into moderate waves. The motion of the ship had grown to be a slow, regular rise and fall of about two feet. On walking to the bows, they saw that at every rise and fall the water came in through the scupper-holes and flowed over the deck. “Well, there it comes,” said Tom; “but for my part, I persist in refusing to believe that it’ll be anything of consequence. I don’t believe it’ll get into the cabin. As to the deck here, a thorough washing’ll do it good. I was thinking to-day that it needed one.” “O, it’ll not be much,” said Phil. “Sure an where’s the harrum,” said Pat, “if it does come into the cabin, so long as we’re high up in our berths, out of reach?” “Solomon’ll have trouble in cooking to-morrow,” said Bart. “Then we’ll feed on biscuit,” said Arthur. “A few days ago we’d have been glad enough to be where we are now.” “That’s true,” said Bruce; “and, besides, tomorrow the Antelope’ll be almost sure to be here. This wind’s fair, and as I’ve always said, what’s bad for us in one way is best for us in another, for-it’ll bring the Antelope along all the faster.” In this way they all made light of the change that had taken place; and, turning away, they all went to the cabin and retired to their respective berths. The lamp under the skylight was burning brightly, the cabin had its usual cheerful appearance, and the comforts here served still more to make them overlook the troubles outside. So they all went to bed. For a few hours they slept. Then they were awakened by a cry--a wild, wailing cry, a cry of terror and of despair. Every one started up at once. The cry came again from the cabin. “O, chilen, we’re lost! we’re done for! we’re ru-i-na-ted for ebbemo!” “Hallo, Solomon!” cried Bart. “What are you making all that row about?” And as he said this he jumped out of his berth. As he entered the cabin one glance reassured him partially. The lamps were burning; they had allowed them to burn for this night; the floor was dry. Everything had the same air of comfort which had prevailed when they retired. The motion of the ship was certainly greater, perhaps even much greater; but under any other circumstances it would not have been noticed. This much Bart saw first; and then he noticed a figure bowed over the table, sighing and groaning. It was Solomon. His head was buried in his hands. “Come,” said Bart, laying his hand on Solomon’s shoulder. “What’s the matter? What’s upset you so?” Solomon raised his head and grasped Bart’s arm convulsively in both of his hands. “Dar’s ghosts about!” “Ghosts? “Yes, Mas’r Bart; d-d-d-dars g-g-ghosts a-b-b-b-bout,” said Solomon, with a shudder and with chattering teeth. “Pooh! nonsense! What do you mean?” asked Bart.