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 view of things. There 's an organized conspiracy against us. I 'm sure of it, because every single one of these waves is heading directly for our bows. The whole sea is concerned in it—and so 's the wind. It 's awful!"

"What 's awful?" said a wave, drowning the capstan for the hundredth time.

"This organized conspiracy on your part," the capstan gurgled, taking his cue from the mast.

"Organized bubbles and spindrift! There has been a depression in the Gulf of Mexico. Excuse me!" He leaped overside; but his friends took up the tale one after another.

"Which has advanced—" That wave hove green water over the funnel.

"As far as Cape Hatteras—"; He drenched the bridge.

"And is now going out to sea—to sea—to sea!" The third went out in three surges, making a clean sweep of a boat, which turned bottom up and sank in the darkening troughs alongside, while the broken falls whipped the davits.

"That 's all there is to it," seethed the white water roaring through the scuppers. "There 's no animus in our proceedings. We 're only meteorological corollaries."

"Is it going to get any worse?" said the bow-anchor chained down to the deck, where he could only breathe once in five minutes.

"'Not knowing, can't say. Wind may blow a bit by midnight. Thanks awfully. Good-bye."

The wave that spoke so politely had travelled some