"Oh, she'd say there aren't going to be any more wars." "That reminds me," said Gerrod. "We want you down for the next weekend. No other guests." Davis nodded abstractedly. A messenger was coming over to the hangar at double time. "Thanks. I'll be glad to come. Wonder what this chap wants?" The messenger came up, saluted, and handed Davis a yellow slip. Davis tore it open and read: Steam yacht _Marisposita_, Alexander Morrison of New York, owner, reports position 33°11'N 55°10'W, wants immediate assistance. Engines and hull perfect condition, not aground, no derelict or obstacle discoverable. Unable to move any direction. Sea calm. Only possible explanation has been seized by sea monster. Flt. Comm. Richard Davis ordered to make reconnaissance of situation in seaplane. Reported condition considered incredible, but no naval vessels in immediate vicinity. Flt. Comm. Richard Davis will make immediate investigation and report. Davis whistled. "Here's something pretty!" he remarked. "Take a look." He handed the order to Gerrod and went quickly to the door leading into the workshop attached to the hangar. In a few crisp sentences he had ordered the big plane prepared for an extended flight, with provisions and as much fuel as it would carry. He returned to find Gerrod thinking busily. "May I come along on this trip?" "It's against regulations, of course," said Davis, "but no one will kick if _you_ go. You're privileged." He cried an order or so at the workmen, who were now swarming over the machine. Although the wireless message had been sent from the yacht after nightfall, the sun was barely setting on the coast, where the hangar was placed. The vessel in distress was some thirty degrees east of the coast, and consequently the sun set two hours before it sank on the coastal line. Gerrod phoned a hasty message to his wife and went to Davis' quarters, where he borrowed heavy flying clothes from Davis' wardrobe. The mechanics and helpers worked with desperate haste. The aëroplane would be flying all night long, but it was desirable that it take off while there was yet some light. The long fuel tank was filled, and the motors run some ten or fifteen minutes, while critical ears listened for the faintest irregularity in their bellowing roar. Two engineers and a junior pilot were to go with Davis in the big aircraft, and they were hastily summoned and told to prepare to leave in as short a time as possible. It was hardly more than half an hour from the time the telegraphed order was received before Gerrod preceded Davis up the ladder and into the inclosed cabin of the seaplane. The motors were cranked--two men tugging at the blade of each of the huge propellers--and the plane slid slowly down the ways and into the water.