Somewhat later I was joined by Edith Gale. It is customary to say “as fresh as the morning,” when referring to a fair woman at such a time, but, rare as the morning was, I could not have paid it a finer tribute than to have compared it to Edith Gale. She came forward and leaned over at the other side of the bow-sprit. “How pretty the little rainbow is this morning,” she said, looking down. “Yes, I have been accepting it as an omen of success.” Edith Gale laughed. “I hope it doesn’t mean that we are pursuing a rainbow. We never quite capture it, you see.” “I have been called a rainbow chaser all my life,” I answered, a little sadly. “I suppose there is always some rainbow just ahead of us all,” she mused. “Even if we find the South Pole, and all the things we expect there, then something else will come to wish for and look forward to.” “I am sure of it,” I answered fervently, “I——” Her father’s warning recurred to me opportunely. We were not yet out of the harbor, and I did not wish to be set ashore at Sandy Hook. “There is the ocean,” she said presently, “the Atlantic Ocean. How I love it!” We had already caught the slight swell from the sea. The added exhilaration of it filled me with exultant joy. I stood up and drew in a deep breath of the salt ambrosia. “Oh,” I said, “it is wine—nectar! It is my birthright—I have always known that I should come back to it, some day!” Instinctively we turned for a last look at the harbor we were leaving. Farther down the deck Ferratoni was pointing out some landmark to Chauncey Gale, while from the bridge Captain Biffer was taking a silent and solemn farewell of the sky-scrapers of Manhattan. Mr. Sturritt presently came out of the cabin, beaming, and looked out to sea. The land had no further attraction for him. Our provision and the materials for his tablets were safely on board. We faced seaward again. We were through the Narrows now, and the swell was much stronger, a long steady swing. I heard the Captain give a word of command to the helmsman and noticed that we were turning to the southward. A shoreless expanse of ocean lay ahead. “I should think all this would appear like a dream to you,” said Edith Gale. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll wake up?” “I have been trying to find something to convince me that I _am_ awake,” I said. “How splendid it was that Papa took up with your plans. You know he has all sorts of things brought to him. A man came to him not long ago with some scheme for buying stocks that he said would pay a hundred per cent. a week on the investment. Papa gave him a dollar, and told him that if his theory was correct he didn’t need any partner, for the dollar would make him rich in six months.”