"I'll stand by you, mate, until we--"

"Feel that?" said Moran, holding up a hand.

A fine, quivering tremble was thrilling through every beam of the
schooner, vibrating each rope like a harp-string. It passed away;
but before either Wilbur or Moran could comment upon it
recommenced, this time much more perceptibly. Charlie dashed aft,
his queue flying.

"W'at makum heap shake?" he shouted; "w'at for him shake? No
savvy, no likee, pretty much heap flaid; aie-yah, aie-yah!"

Slowly the schooner heaved up as though upon the crest of some
huge wave, slowly it settled, and again gradually lifted till
Wilbur had to catch at the rail to steady his footing. The
quivering sensation increased so that their very teeth chattered
with it. Below in the cabin they could hear small objects falling
from the shelves and table. Then with a sudden drop the "Bertha"
fell back to her keel again, the spilled oil spouting from her
scuppers, the masts rocking, the water churning and splashing from
her sides.

And that was all. There was no sound--nothing was in sight.
There was only the frightened trembling of the little schooner and
that long, slow heave and lift.

Morning came, and breakfast was had in silence and grim
perplexity. It was too late to think of getting away, now that
the rudder was disabled. The "Bertha Millner" must bide where she