She ran in under easy steam, making a splendid
appearance with her raking masts and razor bow, under which the
water spurted on either side like dividing silver. Except a
beautiful woman, I don't know that there's a sweeter sight than a
powerful, sea-going steam yacht, with the sun glinting on her
bright brass-work, and a uniformed crew jumping to the sound of
the boatswain's whistle.
"The poor young man's ship's come home," I said.
"It must be Lady Gaunt's Sapphire," said Verna.
"With the American colours astern?" I said.
"Why, how strange," she said, "it really is American. And then I
believe it's larger than the Sapphire!"
"Fifteen hundred and four tons register," I said.
"How do you know that?" she demanded, with a shade of surprise in
her voice.
"Because, my dear, it's mine!" I said.
"Yours!" she cried out in astonishment.
"If you doubt me," I said, "I shall tell you what she is going to
do next. She is about to steam in here and lower a boat to take me
aboard."
"She's heading for Dartmouth," said Verna incredulously, and the
words were hardly out of her pretty mouth when Babcock swung round
and pointed the Tallahassee's nose straight at us.
For a moment Verna was too overcome to speak.
"Fyles," she said at last, "you told me you worked in an office!"
"So I do," I said.
"And own a vessel like that!" she exclaimed. "A yacht the size of
a man-of-war!"
"It was you that said I was a poor young man," I observed.
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