Crazy Radio eBooks

"Say," shouted the American, his clear voice dominating the turmoil,
"that gave us a shower-bath. If we could just stand outside and see
ourselves, we should look like an illuminated fountain."
That was the right note--belief in the ship, contempt of the darkness
and the gale. The crisis passed.
"There really cannot be a heavy sea," said Elsie, cheerfully
inaccurate. "Otherwise we should be pitching or rolling, perhaps both,
whereas we are actually far more steady than when dinner commenced."
"I find these lulls in the storm most trying," complained Isobel.
"They remind me of some wild animal hunting its prey, creeping up with
silent stealth, and then springing."
"I have never before heard a fog-horn sounded so continuously," said
the missionary's wife, a Mrs. Somerville. "Don't you think they are
whistling for assistance?"
"Assistance! What sort of assistance can anybody give us here? Unless
the ship rights herself very soon we don't know what may happen."
Isobel seemed to have a premonition of evil, and she paid no heed to
the effect her words might have on the others.


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