Like two ocean sweethearts the Minnehaha and the Paquita took
their restless way together, side by side in port, inseparable at
sea. At night the one lit the other's road with a string of ruby
lanterns and kept the pair in company across the dark and silent
water. Their respective crews, not behindhand in this splendid
camaraderie of ships, fraternised in wine-shops and strolled
through the crooked foreign streets arm in arm. Breton and
American, red cap and blue, sixty of the one and eighty of the
other--they were brothers all and cemented their friendship in
blood and gunpowder, in tattooed names, flags and mottoes, after
the time-honoured and artless manner of the sea.

In the drama of life it is often the least important actors who
are happiest, and the stars themselves are not always to be the
most envied. Florence, torn between her ambition and her love,
knew what it was to toss all night on her sleepless bed and wet
the pillow with her tears. De Souvary, who found himself every day
deeper in the toils of his ravishing American, chafed and
struggled with unavailing pangs; and as for Frank Rignold, he
endured long periods of black depression as he watched from afar
the steady progress of his rival's suit; and his moody face grew
moodier and exasperation rose within him to the rebellion point.

By September the two yachts were lying in Cowes, and already there
was some talk of winter plans and a possible voyage to India. The
count was enthusiastic about the project, as he was about anything
that could keep him and Florence together, and he had ordered a
stack of books and spent hours at a time with the mistress of the
Minnehaha reading over Indian Ocean directories and plotting
imaginary courses on the chart.