Brand looked into his keen, fresh, comely face. "You're most wonderfully like her," he said, absently; "and there's no bending her. I suppose you'll stay whether I like it or not. I've got to recapture Lyonesse." "I want to see the game." "Lancaster, you know my three big passenger boats?" "The _Coronation_, _Grace à Dieu_, and _Gigantic_? Yes, of course. I came from New York in the _Gigantic_ once--did it in sixteen hours. Why, there's room for this yacht in her after-cabin." "The _Gigantic_ was in dock when Lyonesse was captured; but Admiral Rothschild tells me that she is afloat since yesterday, guarding the town against me. She is in charge of a naval officer, with orders to ram at sight." "But you thrashed the Imperial Navy!" "The _Gigantic_ carries no explosives. So far as I see, I can't ram her, I can't blow her up, and she's so swift that I can't even run away. I've decided to set every man ashore who is not absolutely needed. Lancaster, you must go." "Sir," answered Lancaster, hotly, "I'm here for the Queen, and I refuse to land." "As you will." A few minutes later the _Mary Rose_ set all her idlers ashore in Devonshire. When she took flight again Brand and his captain returned to their seats in the conning-tower, and Lancaster stood behind them, with a life line to steady him during the coming fight. Together they watched the narrowing land beneath, as Cornwall tapered westward between the seas. No clouds sailed in the clear sky to mask an attack. "Wait for the night, sir," ventured Captain Simpson. "Until the _Gigantic_ is warned." "You're right, sir. Could you move down with the sun behind you? The yacht would be difficult to see." "This cupola would shine against the sun. I wish we could make ourselves invisible." "I think," he added, "the _Gigantic_ will be lying with her head towards London, and if we keep on this course her look-out can't fail to sight us. That would be awkward, so put her hard a-port, and set her course nor'-west." The yacht swung rapidly and steadied. "Nor'-west it is, sir." "We'll come down from the north," said Brand; "we should sight her broadside at thirty or forty miles." "Good," cried the captain, "she'll hardly see us at five miles." Not a word more was spoken until the coast of Ireland loomed ahead. "Hard a-starboard." "Aye, aye, sir." The yacht heeled over as she swung. "South!" The yacht came to an even keel, swung a point or two back, and steadied. "South it is." Far up against the sun a distant film of land blurred the horizon. "Starboard a little; a little more; keep her at that." Brand shipped a powerful telescope on slings and focussed the Lands End. There in a trembling mirage the granite city lay, the long glass roofs of her factories gleaming like silver scales.