gled to sit up, in alarm.
Maybe they were to launch the life-boat. But no----

"It's all right, Charley. Lie still," spoke his father's voice. "I'm
only coming in with you, out of the rain. Don't move. Whereabouts are
you?"

"In the stern. Did you get wet?"

"Some. The whole awning leaks and the cabin and every other shelter
are full of people. Whew, but it's dark, isn't it! No lightning,
even. If you're in the stern, I'll take the bow. There. This is
fine."

The canvas had been pulled snug again, and Charley could feel his
father crawling to the bow.

"Where's Mr. Grigsby? There's room for him, too."

"He's found a dry spot, he says. So he'll stay out, as long as he can.
Go to sleep, now."

Charley tried. He heard his father settle himself with a grunt, and
presently begin to breathe in a little snore. That was good, for his
father was not well, yet, and ought to be resting. But Charley himself
found it hard work to go to sleep. The wind soughed, the spray pelted,
the rain hammered, and the ship staggered and quivered, while over the
stern swayed the boat.

Suddenly, amidst the voices outside, along the deck, Charley caught a
quick outcry near at hand, and a scuffle--the scrape of feet, and the
thump of a body falling. The tones were those of Mr. Grigsby.

"What are you doing? Stand back!" Hard breathing--and the sound of a
short struggle. "Now, be off--none of that, or I'll put a hole through
you! You dirty scoundrels! Thought you'd catch us, did you? Keep
away, after this, or I'll shoot on sight."

Charley attempted to sit up, and scraped his face on the low canvas.
His movement aroused his father.

"What's the matter, Charley?"

"I don't know. Mr. Grigsby was scolding somebody."

"What's going on, Grigsby?" hallooed Mr. Adams. "Anything wrong?"

"No, not now. Go to sleep. Tell you in the morning."

"Need me?"

"Not a bit. It's all over with. Just a prowler--and he won't come
again. Go to sleep."

"Well----" assented Mr. Adams. "Are you dry?"

"Dry as powder. Good-night."

"Good-night. But you'd better come in with us. Plenty of room."

"No, thank you. I'm comfortable."

Mr. Adams settled himself. Charley, his heart beating, waited,
listening. But Mr. Grigsby spoke not again. The rain was lessening,
too--and although the seas continued to pound, and the wind to sough,
the storm seemed to be ceasing. Presently Charley dozed off, and when
he awakened