The wind fairly screamed about the boat, and the rain beat with furious force in their faces, as they pulled through the squall for the distant hull of the destroyer. Before they were half way there, however, the sun was brightly shining again, making their soaked garments steam as they labored. With such fury and suddenness do tropic squalls descend and vanish. But as the men raised their eyes and looked at the sparkling sea, darkened to the northwest, where the just departed squall was hastening onward, an exclamation of surprise burst from the lips of every occupant of the boat. Not a trace of the derelict was to be seen! She had vanished as utterly as a figure on a slate obliterated by the passing of a wet sponge. The squall had wiped out the _Donna Mercedes_ and sent the poor battered wanderer to the bottom of the sea. Of course, an officer being on board the boat, the men made no comment at the time, but many were the speculations indulged in during the noon smoke hour concerning the old derelict. The old sailors on board were inclined to think that, weakened as she was by long drifting, her half-opened seams had admitted a great flood of water when the squall struck, causing her instantly to founder. Although not officially transmitted, the “wireless telegraphy” which begins at the commander’s orderly and ends in the forecastle of all naval ships soon transmitted details of what Ensign Conkling had discovered on board the _Donna Mercedes_. She had been a chartered vessel, owned by a merchant of Costaveza, the very place for which they were bound. Laden with dye woods and hides, she had set out for a northern port some months before. A hasty note scribbled on the captain’s papers, in his own hand apparently, stated that after battling with a gale for three days the _Donna Mercedes_ had begun to sink, and had been abandoned in a hurry. The name of Senor de Guzman appeared as a passenger. “They must have quit her in a hurry if the captain left his papers,” was Stanley’s comment. “A skipper would almost rather leave his head than leave those behind.” “I wonder what became of those on board her,” said Ned musingly, his mind busy with thoughts of the fate of that unhappy ship’s company. “That’s a question,” rejoined Stanley, expelling a great cloud of blue smoke. “They may have been picked up, and again they may not.” “And if not?” “Well, in that case it ain’t hard to guess that they drifted around till they died. That’s all that castaways in the tropics can do,” grunted Stanley. “Unless they made land,” supplemented Ned. “As I understand it, the captain wrote down his latitude and longitude as near as he could figure it out when they abandoned ship,” said Stanley. “The figures show him to have been blown most 1,000 miles off his course.” “But how did the ship get back near to the coast again?” inquired Herc.