"Well, have the boats quietly prepared and keep within reach of land. Do you think the Spaniards will continue the pursuit?"
"Undoubtedly. They will stop only to pick up the crew of the Pizarro, and then will keep on after us. If there was some little bay near here where we could beach the yacht, but there isn't."
The noble craft continues to plow the waves and her injured bow still tosses the foam on either side, but her speed is sensibly diminishing. All on board have recognized the fact that the yacht is doomed, but there is no confusion, no manifest anxiety. The boats have been prepared and each member of the crew has secured in a little package his most valued possessions. On the quarter-deck Van Zandt, Navarro, Barker and Louise Hathaway are silently watching the Spanish warship. The latter is gaining now, for the Semiramis is steadily settling.
Navarro, his hat drawn over his eyes and his coat wrapped about him so that his countenance is partially veiled, has carefully avoided Louise. When she returns to the deck he walks over to where John Barker is leaning against the rail and remarks in Spanish:
"If you do not desire to be shot as a deserter I should advise you to borrow a suit of clothes from our friend, the owner of the yacht."
The detective starts. "I guess you're right," he replies in English, and turns to Van Zandt. Five minutes later he emerges from the cabin attired in a fashionable suit of gray.
"The water is within two inches of the boilers," reports the engineer, and Van Zandt sighs heavily.
"Well," he says, "we may as well take to the boats. Come." He leads Louise to the steamer's launch.
"And he?" Louise points to where the body of Cyrus Felton lies, covered by its winding sheet of canvas.
"He will go down with the Semiramis. He could have no nobler tomb."
Boom! The roar of the Spanish gun is the salute the people of the Semiramis hear as the boats pull away from
