LOST ISLAND
except one or two dark forms of steamers laboring along like gray ghosts of the ocean.
"It's a rare night for trouble," Captain Grummitt said, "but I think this is where we get under the lee of the land for a spell."
Still he kept his hand off the engine-room telegraph. Once or twice during the last quarter of an hour he had been peering through his night glasses away to the southeast.
"Blow me if I did n't see a light down that way," he muttered. "Mebbe I'm beginning to fancy things in my old age. If only this rain would ease up for a minute— Gosh! There it is again. Now what in thunder is up?" he said, suddenly moving the lever over to the signal "Full speed ahead."
The Mary Ellen plunged forward, rolling over at a terrific angle as the heavy seas struck her port beam.
"What do you make of it, Cap'n?" Dave asked.
"Dunno." Captain Grummitt was scratching
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