CHAPTER II.
THE COLLISION IN THE HURRICANE.
"Now, what is he going to do?" I murmured turning to my companion.
"Something out of the ordinary, that's certain," answered Dan. "He has just enough in him to be thoroughly ugly."
"I don't believe he'll let this matter drop, storm or no storm."
"Not he, Oliver. I'm afraid we have got ourselves into a scrape. I wish we were in sight of Manila."
"So do I. But I haven't done anything wrong. Somebody ought to tell the man that he is drinking too much, Dan."
At that instant Dawson, the mate, came up. He had been standing behind the mainmast and had heard every word uttered. His face showed plainly that he was greatly troubled.
"This is too bad," he observed. "The cap'n bad enough, but you have made him wuss, ten times over, lads."
"He hasn't any right to drink, Dawson."
"We won't talk about thet—seein' as how
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