But that storm had no intention of awaiting anyone's pleasure.

The first gust was quickly followed by a second and the sky darkened rapidly.

The spray began to come over the rail, and Han and Perry tugged down a flapping curtain and lashed it to the stanchions.

The next time Steve looked for the _Follow Me_ she was no longer in sight, for the darkness had closed in between the two craft.
"This is a mess," shouted Steve, peering through the spray-wet glass ahead.

"I wish we were about seven or eight miles further along, fellows." "Well, we will be presently," replied Phil cheerfully.