silken flag, which Van Zandt hands to the captain with the command that it be hoisted to the breeze. Without even examining the emblem, the imperturbable executive officer bends the silken roll upon the halyards. A few hearty pulls by a stalwart blue-jacket and the ensign reaches the masthead, where the stiff breeze quickly breaks it out.
As a singular flag, with a solitary star in a triangular field of blue, is revealed to the wondering gaze of passengers and crew, Don Manada reverently bares his head and his lips frame the words "Viva Cuba Libre!"
Suddenly there is borne to their ears, above the whistling of the wind and the mighty pulsations of the machinery, the sullen boom of cannon. All eyes instinctively seek the America. A puff of white issues from her forward barbette, and as Capt. Beals returns his glass to its socket, he tells Van Zandt:
"She has saluted the Semiramis and dipped her ensign. She is bearing off to windward and gives up the race."
"She saw the flag, do you think?"
"Doubtless," Mr. Beals replies, with a grim smile. "Shall we slacken speed, sir?"
"Only to natural draught. I wish to make our destination as soon as possible. And by the way, Mr. Beals, you may haul down the flag. It has served its purpose for the present," pointing to the enraptured Don Manada.
Then Van Zandt conducts his passengers below and is prepared for Miss Hathaway's question:
"Is that your personal emblem, Mr. Van Zandt?"
"No, Miss Hathaway," is the calm response. "That is the flag of the Cuban Republic. You are now under the protection of the provisional government of the gem of the Antilles. Permit me to introduce to you Don Rafael Manada, minister of war of the infant republic. Long may she wave!"
Manada bows low and looks vastly gratified by the official title jestingly conferred upon him. Cyrus Felton's face, however, is darkened by a frown and Miss Hathaway is not at all pleased.
"Will you not take seats and make yourselves entirely
