And so they drifted side by side, a naked man and woman, as they might have come from a Garden of Eden, on the poor shattered remains of a small boat, their weight keeping it awash in the long, still rolling, but gradually subsiding waves, thanking God for life, for that poor support, and for love. And by and by the night fell, and still they clung to each other, floating on calming seas, until presently the boat came to a rest beneath the tropic stars staring down upon these jettisoned inhabitants of that island paradise, these bits of human flotsam kept above the waters by love and God.
*"*_*I’ve a neater, sweeter maiden, In a cleaner, greener land*_*"
It was, indeed, a solemn little group that was seated around the table in the great cabin of the _Stephanie_. The dominant spirit of the occasion was not the masterful financier, the brilliant young executive, or the beautiful and charming maiden. It was a grizzled veteran sailor who had called the conference in that section of the _Stephanie_ which he rarely entered save for business purposes. The grave anxiety of Captain Weatherby’s face was reflected in the faces of John Maynard, George Harnash, and Stephanie Maynard.
"And you think the yacht’s condition is serious, do you?" asked Maynard.
"Just about as serious as it could be, Mr. Maynard," answered the captain.
"Yet there’s not a better built ship on the seas than this," observed Harnash.
"Granted," said Captain Weatherby; "she’s all that money and skill and steel and science could make her, but she’s only a manufactured article, after all, and she has just bucked the biggest thing in nature. That she has come off as well as she has is a tribute to her builders."
"And to her sailing master," put in Stephanie deftly.
"If you hadn’t handled her just as you did, none of us would be here now," added Harnash heartily.
"That’s as may be," answered the captain modestly.
"It’s the blessing of God and your own skill," commented Maynard.
"We are here, but the yacht is in bad condition. She is making water faster than the pumps can keep it down."
"Is there any immediate danger of our foundering?" asked Maynard.
"Every danger. In fact, it is certain, unless--"
"I’ve sailed with you a long time, now, Mr. Maynard. I know your temper on land and sea, and that of these young people, as well. What you want is the plain, blunt truth, and you’re going to get it. Unless I can beach this yacht somewhere within the next twenty-four hours, send a diver down, and, if necessary, careen her, and come at the leaks, she--"