The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1906-08-25
CHAPTER XIII.

Had an acute but uninitiated observer
been introduced into the little cabin OF
the Argo during the consumption OF the
delicate repast provided by her ofncers'
he or she could scarcely have failed to no.
tice certain recklessness among the par
ty assembled. Admiral Grace was the
only one who really did justice to the
stewards maiden and supreme effort, and
he, in consequence, was singular IN iaii'
ing to appreciate the witticisms OF MAT
thew Mark Eastonsand Oswin Grace. Inis
was, perhaps, owing to the fact that "nen
we have passed the halfway milestone In
life, we fail to appreciate the most brill
liant conversation. It is just possible
that Admiral Grace did not think very
much of the wit-taken as wit pure ana
simple. His position was not unique.
Once or twice Easton's words required
TO Miss Winter: Il intend to be intense
ly funny, and 1 guess you will have 10
laugh" This was her cue, and she acted
upon it.
The meal came to an end and move
was made. There was nothing else to 40
but to 90 on deck. The moments OWN
died on with the slow, dragging monotony
which makes US almost impatient TO see
the last of faces which we shall perhaps
never look upon again. Presently, the
town of Gravesend hove in sight, and all
on the quarterback of the Argo gazed 1t
it as they might have gazed on some un-
known Eastern city after traversing the
desert. And then, after all-all the walt
Ing the preparation, the counting OF mo-
ments, and the calculating OF distances
the bell in the engine room came as
surprise. There was something startling
in the clang of gong as the engineer re-
piled.
Helen was the last to rise. She stood
holding the shawl. which Oswin had
spread over her knees, and looked round
with a strange, intense gaze. The steam
er was now drifting slowly on the tide
with resting engines. There were two
boats rowing toward her from Gravesend
Pier, one low, green-painted wherry for
the pilot, the other a larger boat, with
stained and faded red cushions. The
scene-the torpid, yellow river, the sor-
did town and low riverside warehouses-
could scarce have been exceeded for pure,
unvarnished dsmalness.
Already the steps were being lowered.
In few moments the larger boat swung
alongside, held by 9 rope made fast in
the forecastle of the Argo. A general
move was made toward the rail- Tyars
passed out on the gangway, where he
stood waiting to hand the ladies into the
boat. Helen was near to her brother
she turned to him and kissed him in 81
lence. Then she went to the ,gangway.
There was a little pause, and for mo-
ment Helen and Tyars were left alone at
the foot of the brass-bound steps,
"Good-by," said Tyars.
There was a slight prolongation of the
last syllable, as if he had something else
to say; but he never said it, although
she gave him time.
"Good-by," she answered. at length
to add which was never added.
Then she stepped lightly into the boat
and took her place on the faded red
cushions. 49,
The Argo went to sea that night There
was much to do, although everything
seemed to be in it's place, and every man
appeared to know his duty. 1t thus hap
pened that Tyars and Grace had not a
moment to themselves until we'll on into
| the night. The watch was set at 8
o'clock. For moment Tyars paused be-
fore leaving his chief officer alone on the
little bridge.
What clever fellow Easton is" he
said. II never recognized it until thi,
afternoon
Ito be continued.)