“She’s off again!” I whispers to Vee.

So we drifts forward as far away from this monologue about the dear departed as we could get.  Not that we didn’t appreciate hearin’ intimate details about the late Mr. Mumford.  We did—­the first two or three times.  After that it was more entertainin’ to look at the moon.

For my part, I could have stood a few more hours of that; but about ten o’clock Mrs. Mumford’s voice gives out, or she gets to the end of a chapter.  Anyway, she informs us cheerful that it’s time young folks was gettin’ in their beauty sleep; so Vee goes off to her stateroom, and after I’ve helped J. Dudley Simms burn up a couple of his special cork-tipped Russians, I turns in myself.

Didn’t seem like I’d been poundin’ my ear more’n half an hour, and I was dreamin’ something lovely about doin’ one of them pelican dives off a pink cotton cloud, when I feels someone shakin’ me by the shoulder.  I pries my eyes open, and finds one of the crew standin’ over me, urgin’ me to get up.

“Wrong number, Jack,” says I.  “I ain’t on the night shift.”

“It’s the young lady, sir,” says he.  “You’re to dress and come on deck.”

“Eh?” says I.  “Have we been U-boated or Zepped?  All right; I’ll be there in two minutes.”

And I finds Vee costumed businesslike in a middy blouse and khaki skirt, stowin’ things away in a picnic hamper.

“What’s the plot of the piece?” I asks, yawny.

“Auntie and Mr. Ellins haven’t come back yet,” says she.  “It’s after three o’clock.  Something must have happened.”

“But Captain Killam is with ’em,” says I.

“What use is he, I’d like to know?  Torchy, we must go and find them.”

“But I don’t know any more about runnin’ a motor-boat than I do about playin’ a trombone,” I protests.

“I do,” says Vee.  “I learned in Bermuda one winter.  I have coffee and sandwiches here.  They’ll be hungry.”

“Better put in some cigars for Mr. Ellins,” says I.  “If he’s run out of smokes I’d rather not find him.”

“Get cigars, then,” says she.  “I have the small launch all ready.”

“How about taking one of the crew?” I suggests.

“Bother!” says Vee.  “Besides, they’ve seen sharks and are all frightened.  I’m not afraid of sharks.”

You bet she wasn’t; nor of being out at night, nor of startin’ a strange engine.  You should have seen her spin that wheel and juggle the tiller ropes.  Some girl!

“Got any clew as to where they are?” I asks.

“Only the general direction they took,” says she.  “But something must be done.  Think of Auntie being out at this hour!  When we get past those little islands we’ll begin blowing the horn.”

It was sort of weird, take it from me, moseyin’ off that way at night into a tangle of islands without any signs up to tell you which way you was goin’, or anybody in sight to ask directions of.  The moon was still doin’ business, but it was droppin’ lower every minute.  Vee just stands there calm, though, rollin’ the wheel scientific, pickin’ out the deep water by the difference in color, and lettin’ the Agnes fade away behind us as careless as if we had a return ticket.