"Oh!" cried the boy, and fell back a few paces into the arms of Hobson. He could say no more, nor could any of the rest. Silently Striker leaped from Oleson, who scrambled to his feet, and then came another crash, which set Larry's every nerve into a quiver.
"We're struck!" screamed a voice from outside. "On deck, men! on deck!"
"Struck!" gasped Larry. "Oh, I hope not!"
"Gosh, but that was a corker!" burst out Striker, regaining his breath. "Never heard quite sech a hard crack afore."
He darted out of the forecastle, and the others followed him. The lightning had left all behind it almost as dark as pitch, and no one could see where to go.
"Hold tight, or you'll be blowed overboard!" came from Hobson. "Where are we struck?" he yelled as hard as he could, in order to make himself heard above the whistling of the wind.
"The foremast is hit, and the bow's afire!" came in Tom Grandon's voice. "Quick, boys, out with the fire-hose and start up the pump. Remember, the oil pantry is close to the blaze!"
"The oil pantry! God be with us!" The words
