"I think the cook's an angel." "Have you finished? Then to bed with you." "I'm off. Just hold the _Wisp_ to the course she's on. Call me when you can make out the land distinctly." He patted her benevolently upon the shoulder and started forward. "Well, here goes the weary sea-boy to his slumbers." She waved her hand as he descended the forecastle ladder. In a little while he slid back the overhead hatch a foot or so and looked out. He was invisible to the fair helmswoman, but the coils of her hair shone just above the top of the cabin roof. "I'm almost asleep," he called. "Good-night, Betty dear." He held his breath. Would the intimacy wrought of the night's peril and companionship avail? An answer, low and very gentle, went with him to his dreams. "Good-night, Bob White--dear." X When he awoke, it seemed to him that he had slept a scant half-hour, but his watch, which had come unscathed through the wettings of the night, showed that mid-afternoon had come. The _Wisp_ rose and fell very gently, and he thought with satisfaction that the sea must be entirely calm. In the tiny bath-room of the forecastle, he revelled in a fresh-water bath. As he passed the looking-glass, he surveyed his face ruefully. In vain to lament his looming beard! A diligent search failed to reveal the razor he had hoped Danton's boatman might have left. It was only when fully dressed and engaged in smoothing down his hair as best he could that he became aware of a strange thing. There was no sound of rippling water under the _Wisp's_ bow. And then he realized that the gentle motion of the sloop could not be caused by the rise and fall of the Atlantic swell--a swell majestic even at its calmest. The _Wisp_ was not under way, but was at anchor in quiet waters! He ran up the ladder, shouting: "Betty! Betty! What's up?" For his pains, he bumped his head on the half-closed hatch-cover, and for answer to his call heard--nothing. With another cry of "Betty!" he leaped upon deck. There was no Betty. In a quiet inlet the _Wisp_ was lying alongside a float connected by a plank to a pebbly beach. A tongue of land separated the harbor from the outer ocean. At a little distance on this sandy tract appeared a straggling group of houses, and anchored near the _Wisp_ was a steam yacht, a pretty craft all white and gold. All this he took in at a glance. A second disclosed a note pinned to the hatch-cover. He had it open in short order. BOATSWAIN BOB: I couldn't bear to wake you. A man who helped me make fast the _Wisp_ says this is Currituck Sound, and the city (?) is Kitty Hawk. I've gone to get some things. Be sure your clothes are dry. NANCY LEE, A.B.