nderhoff, her party and the twins managed to peep into nearly
every hole and corner before the voyage was over. Even where they did
not care to go Dwight would penetrate, if by crawling or climbing he
could reach the spot.

Before bedtime the steamer had changed its course to westward, and as
it encountered a stiff head wind its progress was labored and slow.
Most of the passengers early "sought the seclusion that the cabin
grants," as Dwight mockingly observed, but, sheltered in the snug
pilot-house, our girls, with himself and Bess, rode out the "storm," as
Faith called it (though the gray old steersman laughed at the idea),
until a late hour. All day there had been a flock of sea-gulls
following them, and, attracted by the light, they sometimes dashed
against the windows, startling the girls and delighting Dwight. They
will follow a steamer much as a fly does a horse, always keeping at
just about such a distance, though one would think, in their
sky-circling and ocean-dipping, they must lose time occasionally. As
these birds of the sea glide down a billow, then skim lightly up again,
it would seem they must sometimes be caught in the swirl of foam and
borne under, but no! Every time, no matter with what fusilade of spray
the wave breaks, Mr. 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 wa