"Nobody knows," said Edwards. "He left San Francisco two years ago on a hundred-foot schooner, with an assistant, a big brass-bound chest, and a ragamuffin crew. A newspaper man named Slade, who dropped out of the world about the same time, is supposed to have gone along, too. Their schooner was last sighted about 450 miles northeast of Oahu, in good shape, and bound westward. That's all the record of her that there is." "Was that Ralph Slade?" asked Barnett. "Yes. He was a free-lance writer and artist." "I knew him well," said Barnett. "He was in our mess in the Philippine campaign, on the _North Dakota_. War correspondent then. It's strange that I never identified him before with the Slade of the _Laughing Lass_." "What was the object of the voyage?" asked Ives. "They were supposed to be after buried treasure," said Barnett. "I've always thought it more likely that Doctor Schermerhorn was on a scientific expedition," said Edwards. "I knew the old boy, and he wasn't the sort to care a hoot in Sheol for treasure, buried or unburied." "Every time a ship sets out from San Francisco without publishing to all the world just what her business is, all the world thinks it's one of those wild-goose hunts," observed Ives. "Yes," agreed Barnett. "Flora and fauna of some unknown island would be much more in the Schermerhorn line of traffic. Not unlikely that some of the festive natives collected the unfortunate professor." Various theories were advanced, withdrawn, refuted, defended, and the discussion carried them through the swift twilight into the darkness which had been hastened by a high-spreading canopy of storm-clouds. Abruptly from the crow's-nest came startling news for those desolate seas: "Light--ho! Two points on the port bow." The lookout had given extra voice to it. It was plainly heard throughout the ship. The group of officers stared in the direction indicated, but could see nothing. Presently Ives and Edwards, who were the keenest-sighted, made out a faint, suffused radiance. At the same time came a second hail from the crow's-nest. "On deck, sir." "Hello," responded Carter, the officer of the deck. "There's a light here I can't make anything out of, sir." "What's it like?" "Sort of a queer general glow." "General glow, indeed!" muttered Forsythe, among the group aft. "That fellow's got an imagination." "Can't you describe it better than that?" called Carter. "Don't make it out at all, sir. 'Tain't any regular and proper light. Looks like a lamp in a fog." Among themselves the officers discussed it interestedly, as it grew plainer. "Not unlike the electric glow above a city, seen from a distance," said Barnett, as it grew plainer. "Yes: but the nearest electric-lighted city is some eight hundred miles away," objected Ives. "Mirage, maybe," suggested Edwards. "Pretty hard-working mirage, to cover that distance" said Ives. "Though I've seen 'em----" "Great heavens! Look at that!" shouted Edwards.