"I can tell you nothing," he promptly replied.

"I shall find out one day," she said.

"I hope not; though I'm grateful that you wish to do so."

He rose hurriedly to his feet; he was looking at the harbour below.
He raised the field-glass he had carried from the veranda to his eyes.
He was watching a yacht making across the bay towards them.

She spoke again. "You are going again to-morrow?"

"Yes; all the ships of the squadron but one get away."

"How long shall you be gone?"

"Six months at least---- Great God!"

He had not taken the glasses from his eyes as they talked, but had
watched the yacht as she came on to get under the lee of the high shore
at their right. He had noticed that one of those sudden fierce winds,
called Southerly Busters, was sweeping down towards the craft, and would
catch it when it came round sharp, as it must do. He recognised the boat
also. It belonged to Laura Harman's father, and her brother Archie was
in it. The gale caught the yacht as Dibbs foresaw, and swamped her.
He dropped the glass, cried to the girl to follow, and in a minute had
scrambled down the cliff, and thrown off most of his things. He had
launched a skiff by the time the girl reached the shore. She got in
without a word. She was deadly pale, but full of nerve. They rowed hard
to where they could see two men clinging to the yacht; there had been