bottle and, to my alarm, poured out
a full half tumbler of spirit, which he swallowed undiluted in two or
three gulps.

"That's better!" he said with a hoarse laugh. "But man, what is it you
are saying about having run out of the wind? Look at the glass!"

"We have," said Bastin, "and it is wonderfully steady. About 29 degrees
or a little over, which it has been for the last three days."

Again Astley laughed in a mirthless fashion, as he answered:

"Oh, that thing! That's the passengers' glass. I told the steward to put
it out of gear so that you might not be frightened; it is an old trick.
Look at this," and he produced one of the portable variety out of his
pocket.

We looked, and it stood somewhere between 27 degrees and 28 degrees.

"That's the lowest glass I ever saw in the Polynesian or any other seas
during thirty years. It's right, too, for I have tested it by three
others," he said.

"What does it mean?" I asked rather anxiously.

"South Sea cyclone of the worst breed," he replied. "That cursed Dane
knew it was coming and that's why he left the ship. Pray as you never
prayed before," and again he stretched out his hand towards the whisky
bottle. But I stepped between him and it, shaking my head. Thereon he
laughed for the third time and left the cabin. Though I saw him once
or twice afterwards, these were really the last words of intelligible
conversation that I ever had with Captain Astley.

"It seems that we are in some danger," said Bastin, in an unmoved kind
of way. "I think that was a good idea of the captain's, to put up a
petition, I mean, but as Bickley will scarcely care to join in it I will
go into the cabin and do so myself."

Bickley snorted, then said:

"Confound that captain! Why did he play such a trick upon us about the
barometer? Humphrey, I believe he had been drinking."

"So do I," I said, looking at the whisky bottle. "Otherwise, after
taking those precautions to keep us in the dark, he would not have let
on like that."

"Well," said Bickley, "he can't get to the liquor, except through this
saloon, as it is locked up forward with the other stores."

"That's nothing," I replied, "as doubtless he has a supply of his own;
rum, I expect. We must take our chance."

Bickley nodded, and suggested that we should go on deck to see what was
happening. So we went. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and even the
sea seemed to be settling down a little. At least, so we judged from
th