Massa Tom. I clean done forgot dat it's a sort of
secret. I'll keep mighty still 'bout it."

The Calaban swung out into the river and began steaming down the
bay.

The first week of the voyage was uneventful. The weather was
exceptionally fine, and hardly any one was seasick. The Reverend Mr.
Blinderpool was often on deck, and he made it a point to cultivate
the acquaintance of Tom and his friends. In spite of the fact that
he said he had traveled very little, he seemed to know much about
hidden corners of the world, but always, as on an occasion when he
had accidentally let slip some remark that showed he had been in
far-off China or Asia, he would suddenly change the conversation
when it verged to travel.

"There's something queer about that minister," said Ned after one of
these occasions, "but I can't decide what it is."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom, who rather liked the man.

"No nonsense about it. Why should a minister take a trip like this
when he isn't sick, and when he isn't going to establish a mission
in South America? There's something queer about it, for, by his own
words he just took this voyage as a whim."

"Oh, you're too fussy," declared Tom; and for the time the subject
was dropped.

They ran into a storm when about ten days out, and for a while they
had a rough time of it, and then the weather cleared again.

It was one evening, after the formal dinner, when Tom and Ned were
strolling about on deck, before turning in, that, the quiet of the
ship was broken by what is always an alarming cry at sea.

"Fire! Fire!" shouted a man, pointing to a thin wisp of smoke
curling up from the deck amidships.

"Keep quiet!" yelled one of the stewards. "It is nothing!"

"It's a fire, I tell you!" insisted the man, and several others took
up the cry.

A panic was imminent, and the captain came running from his
quarters.

"What is it?" he asked.

An officer hurried to his side, and said something but in such a low
voice that Tom, who was standing close beside the two, scarcely
heard it. But he did hear this:

"There's a fire, sir, in hold number seventeen. We have turned the
hose in there, and the pumps are working."

"Very good, Mr. Meld. Now try and quiet the passengers. Tell them it
doesn't amount to much, and if it does we can flood that
compartment."

Tom started at that.

"Come on, Ned!" he cried, grabbing his chum by the arm.

"Why, what's up? What's the matter?"

"Matter? Matter enoug