" But Jack had hurried
out.

He found poor Aunt Mary writhing in an agony of misery. "Oh--oh--" she
cried, "I want to be still--I'm too much tipped--and all the wrong way! I
want to lay smooth--and I stand on my head--all the--"

"We're going back," said Jack, striving to soothe her; "lie still, Aunt
Mary, and we'll soon get there. Do you want some camphor to smell?"

"I don't feel up to smellin'," wailed Aunt Mary, "I don't feel up to
anythin'. Go 'way. Right off."

Jack went on deck. He found Burnett stretched pale and green upon the
chairs their lady guest had vacated.

"If you speak to me again," he said, in halting accents, "I'll never speak
to you again. Get out."

Jack went back to his place at dinner.

"How are they?" asked Clover.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "but there's a big storm coming up. The
sky's all dark blue and it looks bad."

"I don't care," said Mitchell, sawing into the game with vigor; "if we go
down we go down with Aunt Mary and if I were Uncle Mary I wouldn't feel
happier and safer as to all concerned. The ship that bore Caesar and his
fortune had nothing at all to bear compared to this which bears Jack and
his. Here's to Jack and his fortune, and may we all survive the dark blue
sky."

"I tell you it's serious," said Jack. As he spoke another ominous heaving
set the bottles tipping and nearly sent Clover backwards.

"And I'm serious," exclaimed Mitchell. "I'm always serious only I never
can get any girl to believe it. Here's to me, and may I grow more and more
serious each--"

A tremendous wave bore the yacht upright and then let her fall on her
forelegs again. Clover went over backwards and the dish of peas to which
he had just been helping himself followed after.

"You didn't say 'excuse me' when you left the table," said Mitchell, whom
the law of gravitation had suddenly raised to a pinnacle from which he
viewed his friends with mirthful scorn; "and if you've hurt yourself it
must be a judgment on you for leaving the table without saying 'excuse
me.' Here's to Clover, who has a judgment and a dish of peas served on him
at the same time for leaving the table without saying 'excuse me.'"

The sailing-master appeared at the door, his cap in his hand.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said respectfully, "but I fear it's
impossible to put back. We can't turn without getting into the trough of
the sea."

"All right, go ahead then," said Mitchell; "go where we must go, and do