She stole a glance at Courtenay. He was so keenly engaged on the

business in hand, so bent on achieving accuracy in his figures, that

she chided herself for her morbid reverie. Then she wondered if he

ever gave a thought to that promised wife of his, who must soon suffer

the agony of knowing that the Kansas was overdue.

Elsie was sufficiently well acquainted with shipping to realize the

sensation that would be created by the first cablegram from Coronel

anouncing the non-appearance of the steamer in the Straits. The

Valparaiso newspapers would be full of surmises as to the vessel's

fate. They would publish full details of the valuable cargo--and give

a list of the passengers and officers. Ah! Ventana would learn then,

if he had not heard of it earlier, that she was on board. And he alone

would understand the true reason of her flight from Chile. Her cheeks

flushed, and she applied herself more closely to the chart she was

copying. She had left a good deal unsaid in her brief statement that

morning. How strange, how utterly unexpected it was, that Ventana's

name should fall from Courtenay's lips--Courtenay, of all men living!

And what did Isobel mean, during that last dreadful scene ere she was

carried away to the boat, by screaming in her frenzy that Ventana had

taken "an ample vengeance." Vengeance for what? Had the half-breed

dared to make the same proposal to the rich and highly placed Isobel

Baring that he did not scruple to put before the needy governess?

Surely that was impossible. There were limits even to his audacity-"Well, how is my chief hydrographer progressing?"

Courtenay's cheery voice banished the unwelcome specter of Ventana.

Elsie started.

"I do believe you were day-dreaming," said the captain with a surprised

smile. "A penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't think you can pay me," she retorted, hoping to cover her

confusion.

"Won't you accept Chilean currency?"

"Not on the high seas."

"But you are on dry land. Please make a dot on your map at 51 degrees

14 minutes 9 seconds South, and 74 degrees 59 minutes 3 seconds West.

That is the present position of the ship. Are you listening, Boyle?

According to the chart, the ship is high and dry, four miles inland."

"Huh!" grunted Boyle. "Reminds me of a skipper I once sailed with,

bound from Rotterdam to Hull in ballast. There was a Scotch mist best

part of the trip, an' the old man loaded with schnapps to keep out the

damp. First time he got a squint of the sun he went as yaller as a

Swede turnip. 'It's all up with us, boys,' he said. 'My missus is

forty fathoms below. We've just sailed over York.' You see, he'd made

a mistake of a few degrees."




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