“No matter, sir, I’ve got another,” interjected Joyce, as he and Jackson turned to their allotted task. Left to himself, Howard threw the screw-shaft out of connection, and turned the full power of the gas-engine to recharging the electric accumulators. When all was running smoothly, he turned to the rest. “It will be several hours, at best, before we can start, and I think, on the whole, we had better not do so until toward daylight, so as to be sure of plenty of light when we come up again. If you girls will get supper ready, we might as well dine.” Dinner--or supper--began light-heartedly enough on the part of most of the party. Civilization seemed very near, and the spirits of the majority were high accordingly. Only Howard, to whom rescue meant something very different from what it did to the others, and Dorothy, who grieved in sympathy with him, were silent and distrait. Toward the end of the meal, Jackson, who had been unwontedly talkative, suddenly awoke to the realization that the time was rapidly approaching when he must again become the jailer of the man who had saved his life and his happiness. Under this incubus he suddenly shut up. The other three did not understand Howard’s situation. For some reason Forbes, it seemed, had not told his information (or suspicions), about the naval officer, and his single reference to them, at the time of the wedding, had passed over the heads of both the Joyces and of Mr. Willoughby. So they chattered on light-heartedly enough, until the meal was over, and Howard dismissed them to sleep. A little later that night, when all the rest were sleeping, worn out by the excitement and arduous labors of the day, Dorothy slipped up on deck, where Howard was watching the dials of his accumulators as they slowly crept toward the maximum. There was no moon, but the phosphorescence of the weed filled the air with a weird witch-light, in which the Seashark and floating wreckage bulked black. So strong was the gleam that Howard could see the dark circles under Dorothy’s eyes as she sank down by his side. “There, there! sweetheart,” he whispered, gently. “You ought to be getting your beauty sleep. We’ll probably be picked up to-morrow, and you must look your best.” But Dorothy refused to heed the badinage. “Oh! Frank, Frank,” she murmured, miserably. “I don’t want to be picked up. Can’t--can’t we put the rest ashore somewhere, and slip away--just you and I. When I think of what will happen---- Oh, Frank, I can’t bear it!” Howard drew her toward him, and tilted up her face until he could look down into her troubled eyes. “Don’t be afraid, dear,” he murmured, “everything is going to come out right. It will take a little time perhaps, but it will all come right in the end. The Providence that has watched over us and brought us through so much will not fail us now.”