“Affectionately, your brother,
“Emory D. Craft.”
As he finished reading the letter, Captain Gordon rose from his chair, advanced toward Mollie, and extended his hand.
“You will pardon my doubts, will you not, Miss Craft?” he asked; “but men in official positions must protect themselves. I no longer doubt your identity; the San Francisco is at your command,” and he bowed low to her.
“I thank you, Captain Gordon, and you will not lose by this kind act.”
Mollie’s eyes were again flowing with tears, but now tears of joy.
“When do you desire to start, Miss Craft?”
“At once,” she cried.
“Return, then, dear ladies, and get your effects. I will leave the port in half an hour.”
Thirty minutes sped by, and Mollie and Marie were again on board the San Francisco. Then came the orders to weigh anchor, much to the astonishment of all the crew, and the vessel moved slowly toward the fortress at the point of the harbor.