easy?" Van Zandt proceeds, unruffled by the cold demeanor of his passengers.
"Perhaps I should have told you before you embarked," explains Van Zandt, with a glance at Miss Hathaway that does much toward reassuring her, "that although we are bound for Cuba, our primary destination is not Santiago. The Semiramis has a cargo of arms and ammunition which I have undertaken to deliver to the Cuban revolutionists. Senor Manada is the supercargo. Believe me," he adds, as Miss Hathaway pales at the word "revolutionists," "there is absolutely no danger, not the slightest—and least of all to you. Even if my yacht were apprehended—though I do not believe there is a vessel on the waters of the globe that can overtake her—you would be subject to no annoyance and but little inconvenience. After we have discharged our cargo we will proceed at once to Santiago, and you will be landed much earlier than if you had gone by a regular steamer. And I am sure this vessel is fully as comfortable as any of those stuffy, crowded craft."
"Then we are aboard a filibustering expedition," declares Mr. Felton, harshly.
"Hardly that. You are on board an American yacht, manned by American seamen, with just one Cuban patriot, a man as honorable and true as yourself, Mr. Felton." Van Zandt's voice is stern and dignified. "I am not a Cuban partisan, but liberty to me is as precious as the air of heaven. Until a few hours ago there was no thought of the cargo now beneath us. The arms were designed to go by another vessel. But at the last moment the plans of the patriots were betrayed. Then it was that I stepped in and offered the services of my yacht to convey the much-needed aid to the down-trodden men of the Antilles."
"And meanwhile you have jeopardized the safety of Miss Hathaway and myself," Mr. Felton sneers. "Suppose we are intercepted by a Spanish warship? Think you that they will not regard us—myself at least—as members of this expedition? What then, Mr. Van Zandt?"
