“Back to the landing-stage,” I heard Ensleigh direct the boatman. “What’s that!” cried Nanette, surprisingly sitting upright. “Not on your life, Pedro!” We were riding the swell, the motor silent, and from the now-distant bathing pool I heard a sound of great, prolonged cheering. Nanette sprang up on the thwart, standing there, poised on tip-toe, a slender young goddess. Jack’s coat was in her hand; and she waved it furiously, looking back to where moving figures showed upon flower-draped terraces. The cheering was renewed. “That will relieve Mumsy’s anxiety,” said Nanette, sitting down again. “Please go ahead, Pedro--and would somebody pass me my robe?” “What!” cried Jack. Ensleigh tore away the pages of the _Times_ from the mysterious bundle--and there was Nanette’s pink robe! “Be careful, please!” she said. “My shoes are wrapped up in it.” She turned to Jack, at the same time pulling off her pink bathing cap. “I’m so sorry you jumped in,” she added. “You were a darling to do it, though.” He had been positively glowering at her; but, at this, he blushed with delight and became a proud and happy man. Nanette shook her tousled head distractingly. Stooping, she pulled out from the folded robe a pair of high-heeled shoes and proceeded to squeeze five tiny wet toes into each of them. “Nanette!” I said slowly. “Weren’t you drowning?” She looked up at me. “Of course I wasn’t drowning!” she returned. “I was swimming under water. I was good for another mile!” “Nanette!” said Ensleigh. “You will come to a bad end, my child.” “Please pass me my parasol,” Nanette retorted. “It’s in the locker. And be careful. My bag is inside it.” The Japanese parasol was discovered. From it, Nanette took a small bag. Surveying herself disdainfully in a square mirror, she combed her hair. She delicately applied lip salve and powdered her impudent nose. “You are all wet!” said Jack, feasting his eyes. His case was worse than hers, and I marvelled at the altruism of love. “The sun will dry me. But, oh! how good that lager will taste! Won’t someone please give me a cigarette?” I held out a yellow packet, and: “Nanette,” I said, “one day a Someone will come who will teach you how to behave yourself!” “Tosh!” said Nanette, taking a Gold Flake. “I’ve outlived that sheikh stuff.” CHAPTER III. THE MAN FROM THE RIVER PLATE As we drew alongside the German, it became evident that we were objects of much interest to her people. I had a good view of the third-class quarters; she had a deck-load of dagoes under her awnings that would have frightened a Chicago bootlegger. We started up the ladder; and I thought it probable that some of the spectators would either fall overboard or break their necks, so urgently did they crane across the rails. “They are anxious to see the gallant rescuer,” said Ensleigh. I knew my dago better. They were anxious to see Nanette’s pretty legs.