But for forty-eight hours nothing had been heard from her, and it was believed she had been overhauled by the hurricane. Owing to the presence on board of Senator Hanley, the closest friend of the new President, the man who had made him president, much concern was felt at Washington. To try to pick her up by wireless, the gun-boat _Newark_ had been ordered from Culebra, the cruiser _Raleigh_, with Admiral Hardy on board, from Colon. It was possible she would seek shelter at Porto Banos. The consul was ordered to report. As Marshall wrote out his answer, the French consul exclaimed with interest: “He is of importance, then, this senator?” he asked. “Is it that in your country ships of war are at the service of a senator?” Aiken, the wireless operator, grinned derisively. “At the service of _this_ senator, they are!” he answered. “They call him the ‘king-maker,’ the man behind the throne.” “But in your country,” protested the Frenchman, “there is no throne. I thought your president was elected by the people?” “That’s what the people think,” answered Aiken. “In God’s country,” he explained, “the trusts want a rich man in the Senate, with the same interests as their own, to represent them. They chose Hanley. He picked out of the candidates for the presidency the man he thought would help the interests. He nominated him, and the people voted for him. Hanley is what we call a ‘boss.’” The Frenchman looked inquiringly at Marshall. “The position of the boss is the more dangerous,” said Marshall gravely, “because it is unofficial, because there are no laws to curtail his powers. Men like Senator Hanley are a menace to good government. They see in public office only a reward for party workers.” “That’s right,” assented Aiken. “Your forty years’ service, Mr. Consul, wouldn’t count with Hanley. If he wanted your job, he’d throw you out as quick as he would a drunken cook.” Mr. Marshall flushed painfully, and the French consul hastened to interrupt. “Then, let us pray,” he exclaimed, with fervor, “that the hurricane has sunk the _Serapis_, and all on board.” Two hours later, the _Serapis_, showing she had met the hurricane and had come out second best, steamed into the harbor. Her owner was young Herbert Livingstone, of Washington. He once had been in the diplomatic service, and, as minister to The Hague, wished to return to it. In order to bring this about he had subscribed liberally to the party campaign fund.