Doubtless in the good old days when galleons laden with silver and other treasures from the Spanish Main and Mexican mines were on this route to Spain, many a piratical craft bore along this self same course with men alow and aloft on the keen lookout for rich prizes which could be looted, and scuttled with their wretched crews, their fate ever to remain one of the mysteries of the mighty deep. Such romantic thoughts crept into Roderic's mind--the situation was conducive to their inception. Besides, his own fortunes were really as much tinged with the spicy flavor of adventure and romance as any he could imagine in connection with those olden days. Another day and they apparently owned the earth--at least from sunrise to sunset not a vessel was sighted going in any direction. The spouting of whales, the gyrations of sharks indicated by the sword-like dorsal fin sticking out of the water, and such aquatic features were all that broke the monotony of the livelong day. Roderic many times scanned the horizon ahead, and the sight of a distant steamer was enough to arouse his eager interest, for he could not get it out of his mind that the girl he so passionately loved was somewhere on that vast deep, and there was always a possibility of the speedy steam yacht overtaking the slower blockade runner. Some people hang their faith on small things, lovers especially. It is possible to find a needle in a haystack, and yet it would hardly pay one to devote a great length of time in the search. However, lusty hope buoys the heart up, and often leads to wonderful accomplishments. A change came in the weather. One can not always expect favoring winds and clear skies on the fretful Atlantic--the storms will blow in summer as well as during the cold season. Cleo had assured Roderic of her faith in the Dreadnaught as a stanch boat in case of rough weather. He found the yacht more seaworthy than he had believed possible. She rode the mighty rollers like a duck, and at no time was there danger aboard. Still, this was only a sample of what the old Atlantic could kick up on occasion, and no matter how good the boat, one who has experienced the horrors of a genuine hurricane while afloat, never feels a hankering after its repetition--there is a majesty about the mighty deep when aroused to fury that awes the stoutest human heart; and those who have sailed over its trackless wastes the longest have the greatest respect for its sovereignty. Of course the storm drove them out of their expected direct route to the Portuguese Azores, and delayed their arrival at the sentinel islands.