t the Manning plantation, and there to part forever from Helena
and all my friends. I knew corners of the world far enough that none
might find me.

But I did not tell Aunt Lucinda this. Instead, I made no answer; and
we both sat looking out over the rippling gulf, silent for some time.
I noted now a faint haze on the horizon inshore, like distant
cloud-banks, not yet distinct but advancing. Aunt Lucinda, it seemed,
was watching something else through the ship's glasses which she had
picked up near by.

"What is that, over yonder?" asked she--"it looks like a wreck of some
kind."

"It is a wreck--that of a lighthouse," I told her. "It is lying flat
on its side, a poor attitude for a lighthouse. The great tidal wave of
the gulf storm, four years ago, destroyed it. We are now, to tell the
truth, at the edge of that district which causes the Weather Bureau
much uncertainty--a breeding ground of the tropical cyclones that
break between the Indies and this coast."

"And you bring us here?"

"Only to pass to the inner channels, madam, where we should be safer
in case of storm. To-night, we shall anchor in the lee of a long
island, where the lighthouse is still standing, in its proper
position, and where we shall be safe as a church."

"Sharks! Storms! Shipwrecks!" moaned she.

--"And pirates," added I gently, "and cannibals. Yes, madam, your
plight is serious, and I know not what may come of it all--I wish I
did."

"Well, no good will come of it, one thing sure," said Aunt Lucinda,
preparing to weep.

And indeed, an instant later, my mournful skipper seemed to bear her
out. I saw Peterson standing expectant, a little forward, now.

"Well, Peterson?" I rose and went to him.

"I beg pardon, sir, Mr. Harry," said he somewhat anxiously, "but we've
bent her port shaft on a cursed oyster reef."

"Very well, Peterson. Suppose we run with the starboard screw."

"And the intake's clogged again with this cursed fine sand we've
picked up."

"After I warned Williams?"

"Yes, sir. And that's not the worst, sir."

"Indeed? You must be happy, Peterson!"

"We can't log over eight knots now, and it's sixty miles to our light
back of the big key."

"Excellent, Peterson!"

"And the glass is falling mighty fast."

"In that case, Peterson," said I, "the best thing you can do is to
hold your course, and the best thing I can do is to get ready for
lunch."

"The best thing either of us can do is to get some sleep," said