A jaunty little feather of water curled in front of it, and as it lifted it showed a long ladder of Roman numerals--XV., XVI., XVII., XVIII., and so forth--on a salmon-coloured, gleaming side.

It tilted forward and downward with a heart-stilling "Ssssooo"; the ladder disappeared; a line of brass-rimmed port-holes flashed past; a jet of Steam puffed in Harvey's helplessly uplifted hands; a spout of hot water roared along the rail of the "We're Here", and the little schooner staggered and shook in a rush of screw-torn water, as a liner's stern vanished in the fog.

Harvey got ready to faint or be sick, or both, when he heard a crack like a trunk thrown on a sidewalk, and, all small in his ear, a far-away telephone voice drawling: "Heave to! You've sunk us!" "Is it us ?" he gasped.
"No! Boat out yonder.

Ring! We're goin' to look," said Dan, running out a dory.
In half a minute all except Harvey, Penn, and the cook were overside and away.

Presently a schooner's stump-foremast, snapped clean across, drifted past the bows.