ire cloud-shapes driven by mighty winds,
whose form no man can imagine, whose might only God can guess, they grew
silent and gathered in groups, awestricken and still.

At this intense moment, when even the men looked pallid in the arc-light,
Dwight suddenly pointed down the saloon, and broke into a hysterical
giggle that seemed almost blasphemous at such a time. The next to catch
it up was Hope, and in an instant the gale of laughter within almost
equalled the gale of wind without. For, running nimbly down the long
room, came a tiny figure. Sometimes it was on two legs and sometimes on
three, the fourth extremity being occupied with a small hand-glass, which
it clutched in its left forepaw.

On its head, set disreputably awry, was a fine flower-laden bonnet, a
little evening affair, belonging to Mrs. Campbell, and around its neck
trailed a long sash-ribbon of Laura Windemere's. Out from the French
roses of the stylish hat peered the solemn old-man face of Andy, the
monkey, and he was making as fast for his beloved mistress as three feet
could carry him.

Evidently the little wretch had broken bounds and helped himself from the
neighboring staterooms. Faith, red and confused, made a dive for him,
and caught off the bonnet, but with a shrill cry he clung to the
handglass, and ran up to the top of a cabinet, where he calmly wound the
long ribbon around his swart body, and, after scolding the assembled
company for a moment or so, proceeded to admire himself in the glass,
with all the vanity of a Broadway belle.

At just this instant the storm burst with awful fury, and the great ship
careened until it was impossible to keep one's footing. Faith, watching
the mischievous monkey, as she stood in the center of the floor, was
taken unaware and flung with violence to one side, where she might have
been cruelly hurt against the hard wall, but for the amazing quickness of
Chester Carnegie, who flung himself between just in time to save her from
the blow. In the instant that he held her thus a blinding glare seemed
to wrap them in white fire, and with it a crashing peal of thunder
stunned them into deafness, then all was utter darkness.

For a second it seemed to each that earth and sea stood still, and
neither quite knew if life were still left to them, but the next instant
a cry rent the air--a cry frightful enough on land, doubly horrible on
the wide ocean--the cry of "_Fire!_"

CHAPTER XVI.

DANGER.

"Si