CHAPTER IX.
THE FATE OF A STOWAWAY.
"My gracious! We're going to the bottom sure!"
It was Randy who made the observation. The storm had struck the steamer in all its fury, and the pitching of the vessel made it almost impossible for a person to keep his feet. Randy clutched a handrail fastened near by, and Earl did the same; while Mr. Portney and Captain Zoss braced up against a ceiling post. The only thing that kept many from falling was the fact that there was no vacant floor space. "They were in it like sardines in a tin," as Randy expressed it.
"Some of the outside freight is bound to go," remarked Foster Portney, a minute later. "Ah, as I thought—the captain has ordered it cut away. There goes some poor fellows' outfits! Too bad!"
"I hope our stuff isn't among it!" cried Earl. "But they'll be responsible, won't they?"
"Yes, they'll be responsible, Earl. But we don't want their money—we want our goods, for it may be difficult, if not impossible, to duplicate the things at Juneau. But I imagine our goods are in the hold."
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