the sun, Alcatras, Angel Island, Saucilito, the rocky fortresses, and the
men-of-war in the harbour, on one of which flew the British ensign--the
Cormorant, commanded by Debney.

"Poor Ted!" said Mostyn at last; "he might have been anything."

"Let us get back to the Cormorant," responded Debney sadly. "And see,
old chap, when you get back to England, I wish you'd visit my mother for
me, for I shall not see her for another year, and she's always anxious--
always since Ted left."

Mostyn grasped the other's hand, and said: "It's the second thing I'll do
on landing, my boy."

Then they talked of other things, but as they turned at the Presidio for
a last look at the Golden Gate, Mostyn said musingly: "I wonder how many
millions' worth of smuggled opium have come in that open door?"

Debney shrugged a shoulder. "Try Nob Hill, Fifth Avenue, and the Champs
Elysees. What does a poor man-o'-war's-man know of such things?"

An hour later they were aboard the Cormorant dining with a number of men
asked to come and say good-bye to Mostyn, who was starting for England
the second day following, after a pleasant cruise with Debney.

Meanwhile, from far beyond that yellow lane of light running out from
Golden Gate, there came a vessel, sailing straight for harbour. She was
an old-fashioned cruiser, carrying guns, and when she passed another
vessel she hoisted the British flag. She looked like a half-obsolete
corvette, spruced up, made modern by every possible device, and all her