“Does Gerald really believe that this Mr. Kent is such a fine character, a diamond in the rough?” “Gerald certainly respects him, although he does not love him, Aunt Katharine.” “Then I hope to meet Mr. Kent in the morning, Nora. I am given to understand that he saved our lives, but I can’t realize that the cruiser was actually shooting at us with deadly intent.” Miss Hollister was a woman of a certain kind of determination whenever duty was concerned. And because she had misjudged the chief engineer, it was her duty to make amends. After breakfast she asked Van Steen if she might safely go to the lower deck and look into the engine-room. “You are coming on remarkably well,” said he. “Aren’t you afraid of the brutes?” “I wish to thank our preserver and to inspect the ship,” she calmly answered. “Very well. Will you come along, Nora?” “Thanks, Gerald, but Captain O’Shea wants to show me the chart of this coast and of the bay where he will try to land the cargo.” “Hang Captain O’Shea; he is making a confounded nuisance of himself,” muttered Van Steen as he reluctantly departed with Miss Hollister. They passed among the lounging patriots and came upon their leader, Colonel Calvo, whom the flight from the cruiser had frightened, not out of his boots, but into them. As a cure for sea-sickness he had found the boom of an eight-inch gun extremely efficacious. He flourished his hat with flamboyant gallantry and bowed low as he addressed Miss Hollister. “Ah, ha, Señora! To behol’ you is a pleasure for me an’ my braves’ of soldiers. Yesterday we was ready to fight the ship of Spain, to defen’ the ladies with our lives.” The dignified spinster looked confused. She resented the bold stare of the colonel’s black eyes and the smirking smile. With a stiff little nod she grasped Gerald’s arm and told him, as they moved to another part of the deck: “I hate that man. Is he really a brave officer?” “Not yet, but perhaps, Miss Hollister. We shall have to ask Johnny Kent about him.” Pausing at the engine-room door, they found an assistant on duty. To their inquiry he replied: “The chief is in his bunk, all bandaged up and using language. His arm and chest were blistered bad.” “I should like very much to do something for him,” timidly answered Miss Hollister. “Who is attending him?” “The Cuban doctor has a medicine chest, ma’am, and we all try to soothe him. But he cusses us out and throws things at us.” “I will look in his room and leave a message for you, Miss Hollister,” said Gerald. “He must be in great distress. And I am sure he is not getting proper care,” she murmured. Van Steen cautiously advanced to an open door beyond the engine-room, Miss Hollister hovering in the background. No sooner had the sufferer in the bunk caught sight of the young man than his big voice roared: “Come to gloat, have you? I suppose you’re glad to see me on my beam ends after the awful way I abused you. Get to hell out of here.”