dence in that possibility,
anyway.

There was nothing else to do--they must sell off something on which they
could realize quickly.

In the estimation of many practical men this procedure would have been
a warrantable makeshift, its sole drawback being a sacrifice of values.
But to the captains on Razee it seemed like the beginning of complete
surrender; it was the first step toward the dismantling of the
steamship. It was making a junk-pile of her, and they confessed to
themselves that they would probably be obliged to keep on in the work of
destruction. In the past their bitterest toil had been spiced with the
hope of big achievement; the work they now set themselves to do was
melancholy drudgery.

They brought the _Ethel and May_ alongside and loaded into her the
anchors, chains, spare cables, and several of the life-boats. Mayo took
charge of the expedition to the main.

The little schooner, sagging low with her burden, wallowed up the harbor
of Limeport just before sunset, one afternoon. Early June was abroad
on the seas and the pioneer yachting cruisers had been coaxed to the
eastward; Mayo saw several fine craft anchored inside the breakwater
and paid little attention to them. He paced the narrow confines of his
quarter-deck and felt the same kind of shame a ruined man feels when he
is on his way to the pawnshop for the first time. He had his head down;
he hated to look forward at the telltale cargo of the schooner.

"By ginger! here's an old friend of yours, this yacht!" called Mr.
Speed, who was at the wheel.

They were making a reach across the harbor to an anchorage well up
toward the wharves, and were passing under the stern of a big yacht.
Mayo looked up. It was the _Olenia_.

"But excuse me for calling it a friend, Captain Mayo," bawled the mate,
with open-water disregard of the possibilities of revelation in his
far-carrying voice.

A man rose from a chair on the yacht's quarter-deck and came to the
rail. Though the schooner passed hardly a biscuit-toss away, the man
leveled marine glasses, evidently to make sure that what he had guessed,
after Mr. Speed's remark, was true.

Mayo felt an impulse to turn his back, to dodge below. But he did
not retreat; he walked to his own humble rail and scowled up into the
countenance of Julius Mar-ston. The schooner was sluggish and the breeze
was light, and the two men had time for a prolonged interchange of
visual rancor.

"I didn't mean to holler so lo