er head, she made her way to the narrow passageway
forward of the wheel-house where one looks down into the steerage. The
waves were dashing across the deck, which was deserted excepting for
one or two dark-browed men crouched under shelter of the forecastle.

There was a light, drizzling rain, and now and then the spray struck
against her face. Blythe looked up at the "crow's nest," which was
describing strange geometrical figures against the sky. The lookouts
in their oil-coats did not seem in the least to mind their erratic
passage through space. She wished it were eight-bells and time for
them to change watch; it was always such fun to see them running up
the ladder, hand over hand, their quick, monkey-like figures
silhouetted against the sky.

How nobly the great ship forged ahead against an angry sea, climbing
now to the crest of a big wave, and giving a long, shuddering shake
of determination before plunging down into a black, swirling hollow!
And how the wind and the waters bellowed together!

The Captain was on the bridge in his rubber coat and sou'-wester. He
had said this would not last long, and he had stopped for a second cup
of coffee before leaving the table. All the same, Blythe would not
have ventured to accost him now, even if he had passed her way.

Presently she returned under shelter of the awning and let Gustav tuck
her up in her chair to dry off. And Mr. DeWitt came and sat down
beside her and instructed her in the delectable game of "Buried
Cities," in which she became speedily so proficient that, taking her
cue from the lettering on one of the lifeboats, she discovered the
city of Bremen lying "buried" in "the som_bre men_ace of the sea!"

After a while, Gustav appeared before them, bearing a huge tray of
_bouillon_ and sandwiches, with which he was striking the most
eccentric angles; and Blythe discovered that she was preposterously
hungry. And while her nose was still buried in her cup, she espied
over its rim a pair of legs planted well apart, in the cause of
equilibrium, and the big, pleasant voice of Mr. Grey made itself heard
above wind and sea, saying, "Guess where I've been."

"In the smoking-room," was the prompt reply.

"Guess again."

"On the bridge,--only you wouldn't dare!"

"Once more."

"Oh, I know," Blythe cried, setting her thick cup down on the deck,
and tumbling off her chair in a snarl of steamer-rugs; "You've been
down in the steerage finding out about the little