"I'm very comfortable, I shall be as warm as if I were at home in my own room," she laughed. "Thank you, again, very, very much." "These summer nights pass quickly. It is morning before we know." Hers was the sleep of exhaustion. The rattle of oars in rowlocks awakened her. The men were no longer merely holding to the wind, but were pulling vigorously. She felt the boat urge forward with each stroke. She raised herself a little and looked over the gunwale. There was darkness everywhere, save when the starlight flashed thinly on some wave-roof. "A good part of the night is spent, lady," the father said. "The currents begin to run as usual, now that the storm is past. I'm beating to the windward of your ships. You may as well go back to sleep." After two hours or so he called to her. "Which ship is it that you want, señora?" She looked about. Morning had come. "Ah! the reenforcements are here," to herself. "Our Admiral has now eleven men-of-war." Then to the boatman: "That vessel on the left, the large one flying two flags. Sabe?" "Si, señora." The Mexicans plied their oars yet more diligently. Miles slipped away. "Boat, ahoy!" called the lookout on the flagship. "Ship, ahoy!" in reply from the señora. "I'm coming on board with a message for the Admiral." Without warning a fragment of storm-beaten sea, tearing toward the harbor, caught alike fisher-boat and man-of-war. "Fend off, men! Fend off! Our suction'll swamp you," shouted the lookout to the fishermen. Oars were useless against the onrush. The leaning masts of the warship overhung the struggling fisher-boat, wheeled upward, then away. Into the maelstrom drew the little craft. Sailors under hurried orders scurried about the decks of the listing man-of-war. Ropes whisked over the sides down to the water which was overclouded by foam and spray. "The little chap's sunk!" sounded from the man-of-war. "No, she ain't. 'Ere's a taut rope. Belike she's fast." Figures clinging to the boat, upturned, were bobbing about in the settling mist. "She's fast to our line, nose aloft like a hooked fish!" from the decks. "There's a H'english girl on board!" shouted the look out. "Didn't ye 'ear 'er yell?" Sailors, ropes knotted under their arms, were dropped to the sea by their fellows. "Them's Mexicans," sputtered a big salt rolling over the taffrail with his burden. "I've a Mex. kid 'ere, I fancy." An elderly man, uniform gold-braided and gold-laced, came up. The supposed Mexican lad threw off the enveloping folds of the oiled coat. Jauntily, hand raised as if in salute, Señora Valentino stepped forth, apparently as fresh as ever in her life, despite her dripping and clinging garments. "Come on board, sir!" "My God! Señora Valentino!" "At your service, Admiral Fairbanks," with an exaggerated curtsy. Sailors and marines backed away. "Madam, what has happened?" "Too little, sir. Much must happen, and at once," her eyes holding his.