A Sailor Boy with Dewey. Stratemeyer Edward

scratching his head in perplexity.

      "Captain, we must attend to the sails," he began, when there came a sudden puff of air, and the Dart seemed to fairly stand up on ends. I had to catch hold of the companion way rail to keep from falling, and Dan held on, too. Captain Kenny collapsed and went sliding into the mainmast, and then toward the lee rail.

      ​"Save me!" he yelled, when he felt that he could not help himself. "Save me!" And Dawson and the American sailor immediately ran to his assistance.

      It was all I could do now to save myself from being thrown down the companion way, and for the time being I lost interest in Captain Kenny. "This is awful!" I said to Dan. "I believe we are in for another hurricane."

      "The fools ought to take in every rag of canvas," was the reply. "Tom Dawson hasn't any backbone, or he'd take matters in his own hands."

      "Let us go below," I went on, as a wave swept the deck, drenching us both. "There is no use of remaining here."

      Dan tumbled down the companion way and into the cabin, and I came after him, stumbling over an empty rum bottle which was rolling over the floor. From the cabin we went to our stateroom, to see that the port was tightly closed.

      "I think I'll keep this pistol until we reach Manila," observed my companion. "You know I haven't any weapon of my own. I wish I had some extra cartridges."

      "Perhaps the caliber of my pistol is the same as Captain Kenny's weapon," I suggested, and produced my little six-shooter. Both pistols ​used the same size of cartridge, and I divided a box of those articles between us, and shoved my share and my revolver in my pocket.

      We now heard a hurried tramping on deck, and soon the creaking of blocks as the main and mizzen courses came down on the run. Soon every rag of canvas was furled, this being done by Dawson's directions, as I afterward learned. Captain Kenny having been knocked partly unconscious by his tumble upon the lee rail.

      A half hour went by, a time that to Dan and I seemed an age. The Dart tumbled and tossed, and it was all we could do to keep from having our brains dashed out against the stateroom walls.

      "We would have done much better had we taken a steamer to Manila," I remarked, when the hurricane seemed to be at its height. "If we get out of this storm we have still our row with the captain to be settled up."

      "Never mind, Oliver, we ought to reach Manila in a couple of days. If the captain attempts to arrest us again, I'll give him warning that I'll have him up before the court at the first landing we make."

      "He ought to have his vessel taken away from him. Do you suppose the owners would keep him in command if they knew of his habits?"

      ​"As it happens he owns a one-fourth interest in the Dart, and his contract says he shall be skipper, so Dawson told me," answered Dan. "I'll wager Dawson will have a story to tell when he comes below. My, what a sea must be running!" And my companion swung forward and back with the motion of the schooner. "And see how dark it is getting!"

      It was so gloomy we could scarcely see each other. It had now begun to lighten and thunder, while the rain came down in perfect sheets. We huddled together, as if feeling instinctively that something out of the ordinary was about to occur.

      And it did occur a moment later. A clap of thunder had just rolled away when there came a cry from the deck, so appalling that it could be distinctly heard above the fury of the elements.

      "Ship, ahoy! Don't run us down!"

      The cry was followed by a tearing, grinding, sickening crash that I shall never forget. The crash threw me headlong and I lay at Dan's feet for several seconds, completely dazed.

      ​

      CHAPTER III.

      IN WHICH DAN AND I BECOME SEPARATED.

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       "We are struck, Oliver, get up!"

      "Oh, my head!" I groaned, for I had struck the stateroom wall a blow by no means gentle.

      "We must get on deck!" urged my companion. "We have run into another ship and may be sinking!"

      Collecting my scattered senses as best I could, I arose and caught Dan by the arm. Soon we were mounting the companion-way stairs, two steps at a time. As we emerged into the open the downpour of rain and flying spray nearly drowned us.

      A vivid flash of lightning lit up the scene, and looking to port we saw a big Chinese vessel bearing away, with a broken bowsprit and a big hole in her side, well forward. We also saw that our own deck was filled with fallen rigging and wooden splinters.

      "Sound the pumps!" was the cry, coming from Tom Dawson. "Quigley, see if you can make out the damage"—the last words to the ship's carpenter.

      ​"We got it pretty heavily," gasped Dan, who was about as much winded as myself. "Pray heaven we may outride the shock and the storm."

      Several sailors had sprung to the pumps and were pumping up sea water in great quantities. "A foot and four inches," cried one. "And gaining rapidly!" he announced, a minute later.

      Those last words caused every cheek to blanch. For the time there was almost a panic. But now Tom Dawson showed what was really in him.

      "Keep your wits about you, men!" he called out. "We may yet be able to stop the leak and pump her out. Keep to the work for all you are worth!" And the men at the pumps obeyed, while the mate hurried forward to obtain the carpenter's report.

      It was soon forthcoming. The blow had been so severe that a gaping hole, four feet in diameter, had been stove in the Dart's bow. It was partly above and partly below the water line, but in such a sea the water was coming in by the hundreds of gallons at every lurch of the schooner.

      "I'll try to stop it up," said Quigley, but shook his head as he spoke. "You had better order the small boats out, and stock 'em with water and grub," and he ran off.

      ​By this time Captain Kenny was up once more, but in his condition could do little but find fault and use language not fit to transcribe to these pages. Once he tried to take the command from Tom Dawson, but the mate would not listen.

      "We're sinking, Captain Kenny," said Dawson. "I must do what I can for the men and myself."

      "Sinking!" gasped the unreasonable one. "Sinking!"

      "Yes, sinking. Keep your wits about you or you'll go to Davy Jones' locker," concluded Tom Dawson. His remarks so frightened the captain that he ran to the cabin, there to plunder his trunks and lockers in a drunken and vain effort to stow what he owned of value about his person.

      The carpenter was as good as his word, but although he labored manfully and had all the aid that could be used, the water could not be stopped from coming in. The shock had opened up half a dozen seams and the water in the hold had reached four feet and a half.

      "She can't stand that!" cried Dan, as he heard the announcement. "She'll go to the bottom inside of a quarter of an hour. Oliver, we are lost, unless we get into one of the small boats."

      ​"The life-preservers!" I ejaculated. "Let us each get one of those on, if nothing else!" and I led the way to where the articles were stored. While we were adjusting them, the mate passed us.

      "That's right," he cried. "You two shall go in our boat. We'll leave in about five minutes, if we can catch the sea right." And then he disappeared from sight once more.

      I must confess that my heart was in my throat, and Dan has since told me that he felt just as awed. "Come down and get what we must have," he whispered hoarsely, and once again we tumbled below to our stateroom, passing Captain Kenny as he tore around his cabin like a man bereft of his reason.

      "You are responsible