was all "too lucky," as old Captain Sennett of the Nautilus growled
occasionally, he being, like all sailors, superstitious to the core, and
"fond of his blow," as the crew put it.

They made a "big haul," with which they put into port, and after
disposing of it started out again, only to make a trip as disastrous as
the former had been fortunate. There was a week of the "dirtiest" kind
of weather,--head-winds, fogs, and treacherous "breezes," which strained
every timber in the old tub of a Nautilus, as she rolled clumsily about
in the turbulent waves.

At length there came a night (it was one of those in which Sara had
watched with baby during the measles) when the sea, as if scorning all
previous performances, seemed lashing itself into a very climax of rage.
Smutty rags of clouds flew across the ominous horizon, and spiteful
gusts, apparently from every direction of the compass, caught the old
Nautilus in wild arms, and tossed her about like a foot-ball.

She had sprung a slight leak also, nothing dangerous in a stanch vessel,
but an added straw, which might prove the last in this straining wrestle
with wind and sea, and she did not answer her rudder as her steersman
could have wished.

"Will she stan' it, cap'n, think ee?" asked Reuben anxiously, as a
momentary pause in the pounding and smashing found them together.

"God A'mighty knows!" was the solemn answer. "If her rudder"--

The rest was drowned in a new shriek of the blast, and Reuben threw
himself flat and clung for dear life to the winch, as a wave washed over