I sat down.  “Mary—­Mrs.—­”

“Don’t bother about names just now,” she interrupted; “I know who you’re speaking to.”

“Do you believe,” I continued, looking steadfastly at her, “that Bertha Nugent loves me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “that it’s exactly my business to give this information, but under the circumstances I take it on myself to say that she most certainly does.  And I tell you, and you may tell her if you like, that I would not have said this to you if I hadn’t believed this thing ought to be clinched the minute there was a chance to do it.  It’s been hanging off and on long enough.  Love you?  Why, bless my soul, sir, she’s been thinking of nothing else for the past two or three days but the coming of the postman, expecting a letter from you, not considering that you didn’t know where to address her, or that it was rather scant time for a letter to come from La Guayra, where Captain Stearns would take you if he succeeded in picking you up.”

“The whole affair had a scanty air about it,” said Captain Guy.  “At least, that’s the way I look at it.”

“You’ve never said anything like that before,” said Mary, rather sharply.

“Of course not,” replied the captain.  “I wanted to keep you as merry and cheerful as I could.  And besides, I didn’t say I had thought there was no chance of Mr. Rockwell’s turning up.  I only said I considered it a little scantish.”

“Love you?” continued Mary Phillips; “I should say so.  I should have brought her on deck to wave her handkerchief to you and kiss her hand—­perhaps, when you blew the state of your feelings through a trumpet; but she wasn’t strong enough.  She was a pretty weak woman in body and mind about that time.  But from the moment I told her, and she knew that you not only loved her, but were willing to say so, she began to mend.  And how she did talk about you, and how she did long that the two ships might come together again!  She kept asking me what I thought about the condition of your vessel and whether it would be like to sink if a storm came on.  I could not help thinking that, as far as I knew anything about ships, you’d be likely to float for weeks after we’d gone down, but I didn’t say that to her.  And then she began to wonder if you had understood that she had received your message and was glad to get it.  And I told her over and over and over again that you must have heard me, for I screamed my very loudest.  I am very glad that I didn’t know that you only caught those two words.”

“Dear girl!” I ejaculated.  “And did she send me a message on a life-preserver?”

“You mean to say that you got it?” cried Mary Phillips.

“No,” said I; “it floated away from me.  What was it?”

“I got up that little scheme,” said Mary Phillips, “to quiet her.  I told her that a letter might be floated to you that way, and that, anyway, it would do no harm to try.  I don’t know what she wrote, but she must have said a good deal, for she took a long time about it.  I wrapped it up perfectly water-tight.  She made the flag herself out of one of her own handkerchiefs with her initial in the corner.  She said she thought you would like that.”