d and master. Her heart
leapt at the hope that Montesma was going to do this, that he was strong
enough to break her bonds for her, powerful and rich enough to secure
her a brilliant future. Yet this last consideration, which hitherto had
been paramount, seemed now of but little moment. To be with _him_, to
belong to _him_, would be enough for bliss. Albeit that in such a
choice she forfeited all that she had ever possessed or hoped for of
earthly prosperity. Adventurer, beggar, whatever he might be, she chose
him, and loved him with all the strength of a weak soul newly awakened
to passionate feeling.

Unhappily for Lesbia Haselden, Montesma was not at all the kind of man
to take so direct and open a course as that which she imagined possible.

His business with Mr. Smithson was of quite a different kind.

'Smithson, do you know that you have an utterly incompetent crew?' he
said, gravely, when they two were standing aft, lighting their
cigarettes.

'Indeed I do not. The men are all experienced sailors, and the captain
ranks high among yachtsmen.'

'English yachtsmen are not particularly good judges of sailors. I tell
you your skipper is no sailor, and his men are fools. If it had not been
for me the _Cayman_ would have gone to pieces on the rocks last night,
and if you are to cross to St. Malo, as you talked of doing, for the
regatta there, you had better sack these men and let me get you a South
American crew. I know of a fellow who is in London just now--the captain
of a Rio steamer, who'll send you a crew of picked men, if you give me
authority to telegraph to him.'

'I don't like foreign sailors,' said Smithson, looking perplexed and
worried; 'and I have perfect confidence in Wilkinson.'

'Which is as much as to say that you consider me a liar! Go to the
bottom your own way, _mon ami: ce n'est pas mon affaire,_' said
Montesma, turning on his heel, and leaving his friend to his own
devices.

Had he pressed the point, Smithson would have suspected him of some evil
motive, and would have been resolute in his resistance; but as he said
no more about it, Smithson began to feel uncomfortable.

He was no sailor himself, knew absolutely nothing about the navigation
of his yacht, though he sometimes pretended to sail her; and he had no
power to judge of his skipper's capacity or his men's seamanship. He had
engaged the captain wholly on the strength of the man's reputation,
guaranteed by certain certificates whi