Page:Under three flags; a story of mystery (IA underthreeflagss00tayliala).pdf/189

 We sail for Santiago and afterward"—he hesitates a moment, his eyes wandering to Miss Hathaway, who is watching curiously the motley crew of the Pearl—"well, eventually back to New York."

Manada nods gratefully. "I am of more service to the cause in America than I could possibly be in Cuba," he says, apologetically.

The adieus are said, the lines cast off, and the Semiramis and Pearl move slowly apart. The latter shapes her coarse for the little harbor of Cantero, where the arms and ammunition are to be landed.

"We are but ten hours' sail from Santiago, Miss Hathaway," Van Zandt remarks, as Louise idly watches the rapidly disappearing Pearl. "Then you will bid adieu to the Semiramis."

"Regretfully, indeed, Mr. Van Zandt. The last few days have sped all too quickly."

"'We take no heed of time but by its flight,'" quotes Van Zandt. "How long do you expect to remain in Cuba?"

Louise turns a troubled face toward the owner of the yacht. "That I cannot say. It depends upon Mr. Felton. He has business interests to look after, and if the climate agrees with him we may remain several months."

There is a silence for a little, the thoughts of both dwelling on the coming parting at even.

"Miss Hathaway," says Van Zandt, suddenly. "I am but an idle fellow, with nothing to call me hence but my own inclinations. Would it be distasteful to you if I should attach myself to your party while in Cuba? The country is necessarily unsettled during the war and perhaps I might be of service. I am familiar with the Spanish language, which I believe Mr. Felton is not, and I should like to see something of the country. Please tell me frankly if for any reason I would be de trop?"

Van Zandt's luminous orbs are fixed on the fair face of Louise as he awaits the answer to his question. For a moment her blue eyes return his gaze. Then the golden-fringed lids fall and a soft blush mantles her face.

"I certainly should not be averse to your joining our party," she murmurs softly, "if—if it be your pleasure."