on on a French
liner's being three or four days late and on the probability of a
Spaniard's not turning up at all. But whether you have revolutions, wars,
or tidal waves, the Britisher sails on schedule."

"There's some risk in that just now," Stuyvesant observed.

Bethune turned to Jake. "You had better come. The card states there'll be
music, and the agent will hire Vallejo's band, which is pretty good.
Guitars, mandolins, and fiddles on the poop, and senoritas in gauzy
dresses flitting through graceful dances in the after well! The
entertainment ought to appeal to your artistic taste."

"I'm going," Jake replied.

"So am I," said Dick.

Jake grinned. "That's rather sudden, isn't it? However, you may be needed
to look after Bethune."

An evening or two later, they boarded the launch at the town mole. The
sea was smooth and glimmered with phosphorescence in the shadow of the
land, for the moon had not risen far above the mountains. Outside the
harbor mouth, the liner's long, black hull cut against the dusky blue,
the flowing curve of her sheer picked out by a row of lights. Over this
rose three white tiers of passenger decks, pierced by innumerable bright
points, with larger lights in constellations outside, while masts and
funnels ran up, faintly indicated, into the gloom above. She scarcely
moved to the lift of the languid swell, but as the undulations passed
there was a pale-green shimmer about her waterline that magnified the
height to her topmost deck. She looked unsubstantial, rather like a
floating fairy palace than a ship, and as the noisy launch drew nearer
Jake gave his imagination rein.

"She was made, just right, by magic; a ship of dreams," he said. "Look
how she glimmers, splashed with cadmium radiance, on velvety blue; and
her formlessness outside the lights wraps her in mystery. Yet you get a
hint of swiftness."

"You know she has power and speed," Bethune interrupted.

"No," said Jake firmly, "it's not a matter of knowledge; she appeals to
your imagination. You feel that airy fabric must travel like the wind."
Then he turned to Dick, who was steering. "There's a boat ahead with a
freight of senoritas in white and orange gossamer; they know something
about grace of line in this country. Are you going to rush past them,
like a dull barbarian, in this kicking, snorting launch?"

"I'll make for the other side of the ship, if you like."

"You needn't go so far," Jake answered with a chuckle. "B