“Ah’s afraid ob dis heah boat,” said Sam as he handed the soup to Fred and settled himself on the side of the bunk opposite.

“Afraid of it?” exclaimed Fred. “Why?”

“She’s got de hoodoo,” said Sam decidedly.

“Why, Sam,” said Fred. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s got de hoodoo, dat’s all.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because Ah feels dat way.”

“But why do you feel that way?”

“Dey’s a Jonah on board.”

“You think so?”

“Ah sho’ do,” said Sam, nodding his ebony head violently up and down. “Ah seen him come abo’d and Ah knowed right away dat we was gwine ter hab hard luck dis cruise.”

“You know who the Jonah is, then, do you?” inquired Grant, somewhat amused by the black man’s superstitions.

“Ah done tol’ you all Ah seen him come abo’d,” said Sam.

“Who is he?”

“Dat Finn.”

“What Finn?” demanded Fred. “What is his name?”

“Ah doan’ know his name, but he am de Jonah all right.”

“What does he look like?” asked Fred.

“Like all de Finns,” said Sam. “Big, wid light hair.”

“You don’t mean Mr. Johnson, the mate, do you?” said Grant.

“Suttinly not. Mr. Johnson am a Swede.”

“Who can it be, do you suppose?” asked Grant of Fred and String and Pop. The four friends were much interested in what Sam had to say.

“Dey calls him Pete,” said Sam.

“Not Petersen?” exclaimed Fred. “The man who went up the mast with me?”

“Dat’s de one,” said Sam with great conviction. “He am a Jonah. Jus’ so long as he is on dis boat we is boun’ to hab hard luck. He was de one who was responsible fo’ you all doin’ dat dive.”

“How silly,” laughed Fred. “You don’t think he pushed me, do you?”

“Ah ain’t sayin’ as how he done actually pushed you,” said Sam mysteriously. “All de same he was ’sponsible.”

“Why do you suspect him, Sam?” asked String curiously.

“Because he am a Finn,” said Sam.

“Is that the only reason?”

“Ain’t dat enuff?” exclaimed Sam. “He’s a Finn, ain’t he? Well, doan’ you all know dat Finns is hard luck?”

“I never knew it,” said Fred.

“Well it’s de truth jus’ de same,” said Sam.

“Why is that?” asked Fred.

“Ah doan’ know nothin’ about why it is,” said Sam. “All Ah knows is dat Finns is hard luck on boats an’ always has been.”

“What can they do?”

“Dey say,” whispered Sam in a low voice and leaning forward after a glance around the cabin, “dat dey can make de wind blow or dey can make it stop blowin’. Dey can make de storms come and if dey tries real hard dey can wreck de whole ship.”

“By doing what?” asked Grant.

“By doin’ nothin’,” replied Sam confidently. “Dey jus’ sits in de cabin and thinks and thinks and wha’soever dey thinks about is boun’ to happen.”

“It wouldn’t do to get one of them mad at you then, would it?” remarked Pop.

“Ah should say not,” exclaimed Sam with great conviction.

“Haven’t you ever sailed with Finns before?” asked Grant.

“Once, an’ dat time we had nothin’ but head winds an’ calms all de blessed time. Dat proves what Ah say about dem Finns, doan’ it?”

“You think the Finn was responsible, do you?”

“Ah is sho’ of it.”

“We’ll hope you’re wrong, Sam,” laughed Pop. “Certainly we’re not looking for hard luck. We’re out for fun.”

“Ah hopes yo’ all has it,” said Sam, but he shook his head doubtfully and muttered to himself as he took the empty soup bowl from Fred’s hands and carried it off into the galley.

“He’s a queer one,” said Pop laughing as he watched the cook’s disappearing figure. “Imagine accusing all Finns of being hard luck.”

“It’s pretty tough on the race, I should say,” said String.

“Yes,” laughed Pop, “and just imagine what would happen if we were over in Finland. There certainly must be a lot of hard luck there.”

“Oh, Sam doesn’t know any better,” said Grant. “He’s ignorant and like all darkies is superstitious. Sailors are too, and as Sam is a combination of both he is worse than usual.”

“He’s made me feel sort of queer though,” said Fred. “Of course it’s silly and I suppose it’s partly because I’m nervous after fainting but I feel as if something was hanging over us.”

“Don’t be foolish, Fred,” exclaimed Grant.

“I’ll get over it all right,” said Fred lightly. “At the same time Sam’s talk has gotten me stirred up some.”

“Forget it,” urged Pop briefly. “Come on up on deck and see what’s going on.”

“I think I’ll stay here in my bunk a little while,” said Fred. “I haven’t quite recovered my nerve yet. You fellows go on up.”

“All right,” said Grant. “We’ll see you later.”

They made their way up on deck and found that the Josephine was still at anchor and that the wind instead of changing was blowing in the same direction and seemed fresher than formerly.

“The Finn’s giving us head winds,” said Pop in a low voice to his companions.

“There’s Petersen over there now,” remarked String. “He certainly looks harmless enough.”

“And I guess he is,” added Grant.

“Fred isn’t sure of it any more.”

“He’ll feel differently about it when he has recovered from the shock he had,” said Grant confidently.

“Perhaps,” String admitted doubtfully. “Fred gets queer notions though.”

“Let’s ask Captain Dodge about it,” exclaimed Grant. “There he is now.”

“How’s the patient?” asked the captain cheerily as the boys approached.

“All right,” said Grant. “He finished all the soup that Sam brought him, I noticed. We were talking to Sam down in the cabin and he has gotten Fred excited.”

“What about?” demanded the captain curiously.

“He says there is a Jonah on board and that we’re going to have hard luck all through the voyage.”

“Sounds just like Sam,” laughed the captain. “Who did he say the Jonah is?”

“Petersen, the man who went up the mast with Fred.”

“Because he’s a Finn?” asked Captain Dodge.

“Yes,” said Grant. “What’s the matter with Finns anyway?”

“Why,” said Captain Dodge, “there’s an old superstition among sailors that they bring bad luck. I had almost forgotten it, but as soon as you said that Sam suspected Petersen I remembered that he is a Finn and that Sam would probably believe in the old story.”

“I hope it’s not true,” said John Clemens.

“I guess we needn’t worry about it,” said the captain, smiling. “It doesn’t bother me any but if you boys want to go ashore it isn’t too late yet.”

“We don’t feel as bad about it as that,” laughed Grant. “I guess we’ll risk it.”

“I’m all right anyway,” exclaimed Pop Sanders. “I’ve got my compass.”

“What do you think of him, captain?” exclaimed John. “He always carries a compass on a string around his neck.”

“That’s all right,” said Captain Dodge. “In case he is shipwrecked he can tell in which direction he is going anyway. Not that that knowledge would do him very much good.”

“And my diary,” added Pop. “Don’t forget that. I always carry a diary in my hip pocket with a little pencil in it so that I can jot things down just as soon as they happen or rather when I think to do it. You see when you have it with you you are more apt to keep it up to date.”

“A good idea,” said the captain warmly. “I see that you are a very methodical young man and probably I shall get you to keep the log for me.”

“I guess you wouldn’t want me to do that,” laughed Pop. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be done very well.”

All day long the boys lolled about on the deck. Fred had joined his companions and the four friends discussed what they should do when they arrived at Buenos Aires, the beautiful South American city of which they had heard so much. They talked of a sailor’s life and all its hardships and its pleasures. Like everything else it is a mixture of good and bad and too much of either is harmful anyway.

After supper that evening the wind died down. The water became almost as quiet as a mill pond and more than one of the four friends whispered to his comrades that the Finn was at the bottom of it all. George Sanders mentioned this to Captain Dodge in a joking way but the captain only laughed and said, “Wait. Unless I am very much mistaken we’ll have a fine favoring wind inside of two hours.”

His prophecy was soon fulfilled too, for in a short time a damp night-breeze sprang up out of the west. Up came the anchor, the sails were set, and the Josephine slid ghost-like down through the narrows, around Sandy Hook and out into the open sea.

“We’re off, String,” exclaimed George Sanders joyously. The two boys were standing near the forward hatchway looking out across the black water. If Pop had known what awaited them perhaps he would not have been quite so light hearted.