WHEN the two men left Dorothy alone in the Queen, she was not uneasy, although she did not welcome being alone in that desolate place. She had so grown to depend on Howard’s companionship, and to take comfort even in Jackson’s bear-like presence about the ship, that she felt a queer sinking at heart when they left her. Still, she realized that it was necessary that some one who understood thoroughly what was wanted should explore, and she knew that Howard was the only one possessed of that information. If Jackson felt it his duty to go along, she would not for worlds ask him to stay with her, although she was entirely convinced that Howard would not desert them. She had accepted without reservation Howard’s story of the crime for which he had been tried, and she put implicit trust in him. The fire in the galley was burning well when the two men left, and Dorothy decided to postpone her dishwashing and tidying up, and to remain on deck and watch their progress. Several times before the tangled masts and hulls, torn canvas, and frayed cordage hid them from her view, Howard turned to wave his hand to her and shake his head in token that the search had as yet brought them nothing. When they disappeared at last behind a big, high-floating steamer, she went below to attend to her duties, which included the preparation of what she told herself should be an extra fine dinner, in celebration of the completion of the first stage of their journey. Time passed rapidly in accompaniment to the cheerful clink of the pans and the rattle of the dishes with which she set the table. At last she paused and looked at her watch. “Twelve o’clock,” she murmured. “He ought to be coming back now.” It was noticeable that she said “he,” not “they.” “I’ll go on deck and look.” She started up the companionway, then paused, as a faint shout was borne to her ears. “There they are now,” she thought, happily. “I wonder what they have found.” She hurried up the stairway. The call was repeated as she went, and was unmistakable now. “Ahoy, the ship!” it came again and again. Dorothy stopped short. “That’s not Mr. Howard’s voice--nor Mr. Jackson’s,” she gasped. “Who----” Cautiously she peered from the door and looked around anxiously. Two unknown sailors were standing on the deck of the fire-blackened steamer that lay across the bows of the Queen. As she stared, one of them hailed again. “Ahoy, the steamer!” he shouted.