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‘Well, my lad, you’ve got a storm at last,’ said the captain; ‘I hope you are satisfied. My wife and Eva are in their cabin, and I don’t think they are quite so pleased as you are about the weather. It will get worse before it mends.’

‘Worse?’ said Edgar. ‘Why, it’s blowing a regular hurricane, and the sea is running as high as the ship.’

‘How did you find that out?’ said Captain Manton. ‘I gave orders no one was to be allowed on deck.’

Edgar explained, and the captain was satisfied.

‘So you did not like the look of things?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Edgar. ‘I think I am safer here, although I confess I feel a little queer.’

Captain Manton smiled as he replied:

‘Sea-sickness will soon cure you of a longing for storms. I’d advise you to turn in before you have to be carried to your berth.’

‘Oh, it’s not so bad as that,’ said Edgar. ‘It will pass off.’

‘No doubt,’ said the captain with a meaning smile.

All that day the storm raged, and the Distant Shore battled with it. As night came on, Captain Manton became anxious. He knew they were nearing the coast of New South Wales, and the wind was driving them straight in that direction. He tried in vain to alter the ship’s course, but he could not keep out to sea; some uncontrollable current appeared to drive the vessel along. As the night wore on there were no signs of the storm abating; in fact, the gale was worse than ever.