Once more a prolonged but faint quivering ran through the "Bertha
Millner" from stem to stern, and from keel to masthead. There was
a barely audible creaking of joints and panels. The oil in the
deck-tubs trembled. The vibration was so fine and rapid that it
tickled the soles of Wilbur's feet as he stood on the deck.

"I'd give two fingers to know what it all means," murmured Moran
in a low voice. "I've been to sea for--" Then suddenly she cried
aloud: "Steady all, she's lifting again!"

The schooner heaved slowly under them, this time by the stern. Up
she went, up and up, while Wilbur gripped at a stay to keep his
place, and tried to choke down his heart, that seemed to beat
against his palate.

"God!" ejaculated Moran, her eyes blazing. "This thing is--" The
"Bertha" came suddenly down to an easy keel, rocking in that
glassy sea as if in a tide rip. The deck was awash with oil. Far
out in the bay the ripples widening from the schooner blurred the
reflections of the stars. The Chinamen swarmed up the hatch-way,
voluble and shrill. Again the "Bertha Millner" lifted and sank,
the tubs sliding on the deck, the masts quivering like reeds, the
timbers groaning aloud with the strain. In the stern something
cracked and smashed. Then the trouble died away, the ripples
faded into the ocean, and the schooner settled to her keel, quite
motionless.

"Look," said Moran, her face toward the "Bertha's" stern. "The
rudder is out of the gudgeons." It was true--the "Bertha