“Harm!” she screamed in his ear. “Off to the right! See! There’s something white!” The young Lord saw nothing. He did bank away to the right. Then they all saw it, a white spot. It seemed to move backward and forward. Every muscle tense, they waited. The spot loomed larger. Beneath it appeared a dark form. “A boat!” Alice cried. “It is a boat! There are people, living people! They are waving something white!” “Steady, girl.” The young Lord framed the words with his lips. Yes, she knew. Other ships had been lost, other life-boats had wandered away. And yet. It just must be true. It must be the boat from the Queen Bess. As they dropped to the surface of the sea, she found herself holding her breath. On the prow of the life-boat was a name. Two words. It must be ‘Queen Bess.’ The first letter of each word was large. “Yes!” she cried at last. “Q. B.—Queen Bess!” Above the sound of the taxiing motor someone heard her cry. That someone stood up in the life-boat and screamed, “Alice! Alice! I know your voice! Oh, thank God we are saved!” Three minutes more and the girls were in one-another’s arms. “See what a haul we made,” the young Lord exclaimed sometime later. “Seven children, one young lady and fifteen able-bodied seamen.” “And all because one little lady named Alice would not give up,” Dave replied huskily. Having watched them as they made their search and noted their landing, the pilot of a huge four-motored bomber came circling back. By code messages they made contact with their headquarters. Plans were made and orders given. The big bomber that had turned back was to supply the young Lord with extra gasoline, then was to pick up the seamen and bring them to England. The young Lord and his crew were to carry Cherry and the seven children to America. “And after that,” the Squadron Commander’s voice boomed over the air, “the young Lord Applegate and his crew are to have a two-weeks’ leave in America. Good-luck and fine flying!” “Cherry,” Alice teased, when their supreme moment was at an end, “you have your voice now. You should go straight back to England.” “Oh, no!” Cherry threw up her hands. “I—I started to America. I’m still on my way. Beside,” she added soberly. “There are the children.” Ah, yes, there were the children, Tillie, Peggy and five others. How brave they had been through all the long hours, only Cherry could tell. As they climbed aboard the plane, all undaunted, Peggy, the little alley rat from the London slums, struck up, “Roll out the Barrel.” And they all joined in. “But, Cherry,” Dave asked when once again they were headed for America, “how did your voice come back?”