And from the raging seas off the lee-bow came the deep, calm voice of Milo, unperturbed as if on dry land, though no boat was to be seen in the murk. “Hold the course, Sultana, I am here!”

And on the heels of the words came a flash from the skies, blazing full upon the dripping figure of the giant as he reached a great arm up, gripped the lee-rail, and swung himself on board with the unconscious ease of a perfect athlete.

“Thy boat, Milo?” inquired Dolores.

“Sailed under, Sultana. I have held the flare aloft in my hand while swimming until a moment ago, when the powder burned out.”

“And Rufe?”

“The sloop is close by. Thou art sailing fair at his stern if thy course was not changed to avoid me. His topmast is gone; he sails slowly.”