Crusoes of the Frozen North

lhalla was speeding before the wind at a good rate with very little sail on her.

The storm increased towards midnight, and at that dark hour the Valhalla had to lie to under almost bare poles. So busy had all hands been kept that there was very little time to think of ghosts or evil spirits, and now that the crew had a chance of turning in, it is needless to say that sleep was the first thing to be considered.

But fresh trouble came with the new day. The wind had gone down, and the sea as well, and the Valhalla was now bowling along on a pretty even keel, for the breeze was well astern.

Webb, the mate, and Tom both slept in bunks in the same cabin. Just as the steward was laying breakfast, Webb popped his head out from his cabin curtains.

"Hillo, steward!"

"Good-morning, sah!" said Jake Brown, who, strange as it may seem, was a tall and important-looking black man, with hair as white as snow.

"Have you seen Master Tom? He hasn't been here all ni