“Too bad!” sighed the lieutenant. “And what are your plans, Captain O’Shea? Do you intend to make any formal claim in behalf of the late king?” “No. His dreams died with him. There is no heir to the throne. I’m thankful that his finish was so bright and hopeful. There will be funeral services and a burial to-morrow. I should take it as a great favor if detachments from the British cruiser and the Brazilian war-vessel could be present.” “I will attend to it,” said the lieutenant. When the coffin of King Osmond I was carried ashore it was draped with the flag of Trinadaro, which he himself had designed. Launches from the two cruisers towed sailing-cutters filled with bluejackets, who splashed through the surf and formed in column led by the bugles and the muffled drums. The parade wound along the narrow valleys and climbed to the plateau on which the ruler had planned to build his capital. There the first and last King of Trinadaro was laid to rest, and the guns of the cruisers thundered a requiem. The British lieutenant counted the guns and turned to Captain O’Shea to say: “It is the salute given only to royalty, according to the navy regulations. It is the least we can do for him.” “And it is handsomely done,” muttered the grateful O’Shea as he brushed his hand across his eyes. “Will you take your ship back to England?” “Yes. I can do nothing else. ’Twill be a sad voyage, but God knows best. As it all turned out, this king of ours had to die to win his kingdom.” When the mourners had returned to the _Tarlington_, Captain O’Shea and Johnny Kent went into the chart-room and talked together for some time. At length the simple-hearted chief engineer said with a wistful smile: “I’m glad we stood by and did what we could for him, ain’t you, Cap’n Mike?” “You bet I am, Johnny. He was a good man, and I loved him. Here’s to His Majesty, King Osmond of Trinadaro! Even the pair of court officers we kidnapped had come to be fond of him and wished him no harm. There may be trouble waiting for us in London River on account of them and the ship that took out no clearances. But we will face the music. ’Tis not much to do for him that was so good to us.” “Right you are, Cap’n Mike; but do you suppose we’ll go to jail?” “No; for the blame will be laid to poor King Osmond, and the law will hold him responsible for the acts of his agents. But we would not mind going to jail for him.” “Well, anyhow, they can never take his kingdom away from him,” softly quoth Johnny Kent. THE LINER “ALSATIAN” Fifteen years ago the crack Atlantic liners were no larger than ten thousand tons. Some of them are still in service, safe and comfortable ships, quite fast enough for the traveller who is not bitten with speed madness. When the _Alsatian_ of the International Line was new she attracted as much attention as one of the monsters of to-day with its length of almost a fifth of a mile and horse-power to stagger the imagination.