"A whirl in the air makes the whirl in the water. I
was afraid as we'd meet with trouble, Trot. Things
didn't look right. The air was too still."

"It's coming closer," said the girl.

The old man grabbed the oars and began rowing with
all his strength.

"'Tain't comin' closer to us, Trot," he gasped; "it's
we that are comin' closer to the whirlpool. The thing
is drawin' us to it like a magnet!"

Trot's sun-bronzed face was a little paler as she
grasped the tiller firmly and tried to steer the boat
away; but she said not a word to indicate fear.

The swirl of the water as they came nearer made a
roaring sound that was fearful to listen to. So fierce
and powerful was the whirlpool that it drew the surface
of the sea into the form of a great basin, slanting
downward toward the center, where a big hole had been
made in the ocean -- a hole with walls of water that
were kept in place by the rapid whirling of the air.

The boat in which Trot and Cap'n Bill were riding was
just on the outer edge of this saucer-like slant, and
the old sailor knew very well that unless he could
quickly force the little craft away from the rushing