Cyrus Felton, however, is decidedly alarmed by Van Zandt’s admission of the incidental errand of the Semiramis. A strong distrust of her owner begins to grow in his mind; this added to the qualms of seasickness, which have begun to make themselves felt, renders him thoroughly miserable in spirit and body, and without raising another objection he asks to be shown to his stateroom.
It must be confessed that Van Zandt does not manifest heartfelt regret at Mr. Felton’s unhappy condition, and even Miss Hathaway is somewhat perfunctory in her expressions of sympathy. An unaccountable confidence in the handsome owner of the Semiramis has replaced her early distrust, and, happily exempt from the “dread bugbear of the voyageur,” she accepts with pleasure Van Zandt’s proposition that they explore the yacht.
The Semiramis is fair to look upon, from capstan to rudder, and from keelson to main truck. The Vermont maiden marvels at the comfort, convenience and luxury on every hand. The palatial saloon, with its unusually high ceiling, furnished in oriental magnificence and including a superb upright piano, Miss Hathaway’s eye notes approvingly; the commodious staterooms, arranged en suite, with the respectable appearing stewardess in charge; the plain but ample and scrupulously neat quarters of the crew; the engine-room, with its masses of highly polished steel and brass—all possess elements of interest to the girl.
That night, as she lays her head on her pillow, “rocked in the cradle of the deep,” she suddenly starts as if from a dream. For there comes to her ears again, from somewhere, that melody strangely sweet, yet filled with subtle melancholy, the andante of her beloved sonata.
Then a light goes up, as the Germans have the saying, and Miss Hathaway understands now her blindly placed confidence in the master of the Semiramis. For Don Caesar de Bazan is Phillip Van Zandt and—and—
But what Miss Hathaway thinks about as Atlantic’s waves lull her to slumber would certainly interest the young man who sits up far into the night, chatting and smoking with the “minister of war of the Cuban republic” while the Semiramis rushes on her eventful voyage to the tropics.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE FLAG OF CASTILE.
“Twelve hours from now, Miss Hathaway, you will have your first glimpse of Cuba. Then, our business transacted, a quick and uninterrupted run to Santiago, and to-morrow you will be on terra firma.”
“It has been a remarkably short voyage, Mr. Van Zandt.”