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THE GYPSY OF THE SEA
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sails and the towering masts hung sleazily for a moment, then ballooned beautifully, as she heeled over on the starboard tack, racing on over the blue towards that ever-retreating horizon. The girl wished she could see its perfect rim broken by a little dark lump of island. But for the uncertainty about Ben she would have been jubilantly happy in this joyous carefree life of the sea.

"Don't strain those pretty eyes of yours, lass! We're a good three-hundred miles north of him still. Sight the Luards tomorrow, if all goes well."

It was Captain Fairwind's voice booming along the deck. How she loved to hear it! Out here on the sea it always rang like a trumpet.

She reached his side and asked for the glass. Still on their port, the far-off tiny yacht nosed its way steadily southwest. She could pick out more clearly now the twin slanting masts and funnel, but it was fast steaming out of sight.

And five minutes later when she looked again, the last line of mast, the last feather of smoke had gone. The Alice and her unseen motley crew had vanished. She seemed to have passed over the sparkling rim and dropped clean over its blue edge.