tew into his capacious
mouth with much gusto. "I'd back him against one of those French
what-do-you-call-'ems any day!" alluding, possibly, to the chef of the
hotel in Bordeaux at which he had been staying on the _Susan Jane's_
previous voyage.

"So would I," echoed the mate, who was performing equally well with his
knife and fork; but, what he would have further observed must remain
unrecorded, for at that moment a tremendous crash was heard on deck, and
a heavy sea pooped the ship, flooding the cabin, and washing the two,
with the debris of the breakfast table, away to leeward, where they
struggled in vain to recover their footing, until the ship righted
again--the steward coming to their assistance and being likewise thrown
down on the floor, to add to the confusion. Then Seth Allport darted up
the companion.

The contretemps was so sudden that the skipper was quite startled; but
what startled him more was the sight of the boy who had been saved, and
who was supposed to be sound asleep, standing at the open door of his
cabin, with his light brown hair almost erect, and his blue eyes
starting out of his head with a look of unspeakable terror, and the
blood streaming down his face, and dropping with a sort of hissing sound
into the water that surged about the cuddy floor and over his feet, from
the terrible cut across his forehead.

"Mercy upon us, Rawlings, look there!" exclaimed Captain Blowser, trying
to regain his feet, and almost forgetting what might be going on on deck
at the sight before him. "Is he gone mad, or what?"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER THREE.

TAKEN ABACK.

"What is the matter?" exclaimed the passenger, clutching hold of the
steward's leg under the idea that it was the cuddy table, and contriving
to get into a sitting position on the cabin floor, as the _Susan Jane_
lurched to and fro, swishing the water backwards and forwards, along
with the plates and dishes and broken crockery, amongst them, mixed up
with bits of meat and vegetables and bread in the most inharmonious sort
of medley,--"What's the matter, Cap'en?"

"Struck by a squall," said the skipper, getting on his feet at last, and
holding on tightly to a brass rail outside the door of one of the
berths, that he might not get floored again. "But, look at your
patient, the boy! Is he mad, or what?"

"Golly!" ejaculated the steward, also finding his legs again, Mr
Rawlings having released them as soon as he sat up. "Me tink him goin'