omething close to trouble, after all,"
observed Powell Seaton, when it became necessary for him to hold his
hat on.

Tom nodded in a taciturn way, merely saying:

"If you're going to stay on deck, Mr. Seaton, you'd better put on a
cap, or a sou'wester."

Mr. Seaton started below, through the motor room. While he was still
there the gale struck, almost without further warning.

"Watch the wind and ease off a bit, Joe," bawled Skipper Halstead in
his chum's ear.

Joe Dawson nodded slightly. The gale was now upon them with such fury
that making one's self heard was something like work.

Despite the prompt easing by the helm, the "Restless" bowled over a
good deal as the crest of the first in-rolling wave hit her.

Powell Seaton, a cap on his head, appeared at the motor room hatchway.
Tom motioned him to remain where he was.

Clutching at the rail, Tom Halstead kept his face turned weatherward
most of the time. He knew, now, that a fifty-five-foot boat like the
"Restless," weather-staunch though she was, was going to have about
all she could do in the sea that would be running in a few minutes
more.

Nor did he make any mistake about that. A darkness that was almost
inky settled down over them. Bending through the hatchway, the young
sailing master yelled to Powell Seaton to switch on the running
lights.

"For we'll need 'em mighty soon, if we don't now," Captain Tom added.

Hank reappeared with rain-coats, and with his own on. Hardly had those
on deck so covered themselves when, accompanied by a vivid flash of
lightning and a crashing peal of thunder, the rain came down upon
them. At first there were a few big drops. Then, the gale increasing,
the rain came in drenching sheets. The decks began to run water,
almost choking the scuppers.

The heeling of the "Restless" was no longer especially noticeable. She
was rolling and pitching in every direction, accompanied by a
straining and creaking of timbers.

Powell Seaton, standing below, clutching for support, and not much of
a sailor at best, began to feel decidedly scared.

"Are we going to be able to weather this, Captain Halstead?" he yelled
up, as the young skipper paused close by the hatchway.

Though the noise of the now furious gale prevented Tom from making out
the words very clearly, he knew, by instinct, almost, what had been
asked of him.

"Weather the gale, sir?" Tom bawled down, hoarsely. "Of course! We've
got to!"

There was a new sound th