e has or not. "Now, the question for our
consideration is, what we ought to do. What do you say, MacAndrew; and
you, Maas?"

"If I were in your place I would get away as soon as possible,"
answered the former.

"I agree with you," put in Jimmy. "By Jove! I do."

"I cannot say that I do," added Maas. "In the first place, you must
remember where you are. This is an extremely dangerous coast about
here, and if anything goes wrong and your boat runs ashore, the man you
have come to rescue will be no better off than he was before. If I
were in your place, Browne--and I'm sure Captain Mason will agree with
me--I should postpone your departure until to-morrow morning. There's
nothing like having plenty of daylight in matters of this sort."

Browne scarcely knew what to say. He was naturally very anxious to get
away; at the same time he was quite aware of the dangers of the seas in
which his boat was, just at that time. He accordingly went forward and
argued it out with Mason, whom he found of very much the same opinion
as Maas.

"We have not much to risk, sir, by waiting," said that gentleman; "and,
as far as I can see, we've everything to gain. A very strong current
sets from the northward; and, as you can see for yourself, a fog is
coming up. I don't mind telling you, sir, I've no fancy for
manoeuvring about here in the dark."

"Then you think it would be wiser for us to remain at anchor until
daylight?" asked Browne.

"If you ask me to be candid with you," the skipper replied, "I must say
I do, sir."

"Very good, then," answered Browne. "In that case we will remain."
Without further discussion, he made his way to the smoking-room, where
he announced to those assembled there, that the yacht would not get
under way till morning.

"'Pon my word, Browne, I think you're right," continued Maas. "You
don't want to run any risks, do you? You'll be just as safe here, if
not safer, than you would be outside."

"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Jimmy; and then, for some reason
not specified, a sudden silence fell upon the party.

A quarter of an hour later Browne made his way to the deck-house again.
He found Katherine and her father alone together, the man fast asleep
and the girl kneeling by his side.

"Dearest," said Katherine softly, as she rose and crossed the cabin to
meet her lover, "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done
for--for him and for me."

She paused towards the end of her s