and next morning amused themselves
with deck games. They began to congratulate the captain on the calmness
of the passage, but he laughed and told them not to count up their
blessings too soon.

"In February we may expect anything in the way of weather," he remarked.

And he was right. Directly they entered the Bay of Biscay they
encountered a storm. At first the girls thought it rather fun to feel
the vessel heaving its way through the water, to have to hold on to the
chairs as they crossed the saloon, and to be nearly jerked off the
stairs when they went on deck. But as evening came on, one by one they
began to feel the effects of _mal de mer_, and long before the
dinner-gong sounded had retired thankfully to their berths. The time
that followed was an absolute nightmare. The heavy seas dashed the
_Clytie_ about like a match-box. She pitched and tossed, and rolled, so
that one moment the girls, lying on their backs, would find their heels
higher than their heads, and the next instant the position would be
reversed. The violence of the rolling almost flung them out on to the
floor, and they were obliged to cling to the wooden edges of their
berths. All their possessions were rolling about the cabin, the linen
tidies had tumbled down, and hairbrushes, shoes, sponges, clothing, and
trunks spun round and round in confusion. The noise was terrific, the
wind blew a hurricane, and great waves broke over the deck with
tremendous force. To add to the danger, the cargo in the hold shifted,
and an enormous fly-wheel, which, with some other machinery was being
taken to Alexandria, broke loose from the chains that held it, and
dashed about smashing all with which it came in contact.

Even when morning dawned, the storm did not abate. The girls heard
afterwards that the men on the look-out were obliged to be lashed to the
rail with ropes, that the captain never left the bridge for twenty-four
hours, and that the hatches had been battened down to prevent any
passengers from venturing on deck. At the time they were far too ill to
care about any such details; Lilias and Dulcie would thankfully have
gone to the bottom, and though Carmel and Cousin Clare were more
cheerful, the physical discomfort troubled them decidedly more than the
danger. The stewardess, who, poor woman, was herself ill, managed to
struggle into their cabin, and holding on tightly to the berths, would
pass them drinks of tea in cups that could only be filled a qu