Seagull rises, lightly triumphant, with not so
much as a silver feather wetted by salt water!
The night grew very dark, and the sea was turbulent. The late
supper--a fourth meal always served on board the "International"--was
something of a scramble, but our young people enjoyed it, as few of the
older passengers were present, and though an occasional fit of
squeamishness disturbed both twins, while Bess had to disappear
suddenly, Dwight ate calmly on of everything offered, with an
equanimity that tickled Joey, and excited the envy of all. The saloons
looked deserted, and only a few mustered for a short look at the light
on Finisterre. After seeing it, our girls decided bed was a good
place, but Faith thought she had scarcely dropped asleep, though hours
had fled, when something seemed to shake her into consciousness, and
Hope's agitated voice whispered, "Oh, what is that?"
It was a hoarse, awful, prolonged bellow, as of some giant ox in sore
distress, and when it would stop, occasionally, faint and far would
come another bellow, mellowed by distance, but sounding unspeakably
eerie and frightsome. A bell, too, seemed to be tolling a knell for
something, and there was a constant rush of feet on deck, mingled with
trumpeted orders and the rattle of cordage. Yet the steamer did not
seem to be pitching about at all, as it was when they retired. Could
they be going down, and were those awful noises calls for help? And
where could they be to have answers coming over the waves like that?
"Oh dear!" sighed Hope.
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