CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH DAN AND I BECOME SEPARATED.
"We are struck, Oliver, get up!"
"Oh, my head!" I groaned, for I had struck the stateroom wall a blow by no means gentle.
"We must get on deck!" urged my companion. "We have run into another ship and may be sinking!"
Collecting my scattered senses as best I could, I arose and caught Dan by the arm. Soon we were mounting the companion-way stairs, two steps at a time. As we emerged into the open the downpour of rain and flying spray nearly drowned us.
A vivid flash of lightning lit up the scene, and looking to port we saw a big Chinese vessel bearing away, with a broken bowsprit and a big hole in her side, well forward. We also saw that our own deck was filled with fallen rigging and wooden splinters.
"Sound the pumps!" was the cry, coming from Tom Dawson. "Quigley, see if you can make out the damage"—the last words to the ship's carpenter.
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