There had been too, recently, a strange lack of consideration for herself that had wounded her more than she had imagined. Today there had been a glaring example of it in his having left her alone upon the boat without a single European companion—something that he would never have thought of doing a few months before. 

 As she sat speculating on the strange change which had come over her father her eyes had wandered aimlessly along the harbor’s entrance; the low reef that protected it from the sea, and the point of land to the south, that projected far out into the strait like a gigantic index finger pointing toward the mainland, the foliage covered heights of which were just visible above the western horizon. 

 Presently her attention was arrested by a tossing speck far out upon the rolling bosom of the strait. For some time the girl watched the object until at length it resolved itself into a boat moving head on toward the island. Later she saw that it was long and low, propelled by a single sail and many oars, and that it carried quite a company. 

 Thinking it but a native trading boat, so many of which ply the southern seas, Virginia viewed its approach with but idle curiosity. When it had come to within half a mile of the anchorage of the Ithaca, and was about to enter the mouth of the harbor Sing Lee’s eyes chanced to fall upon it. On the instant the old Chinaman was electrified into sudden and astounding action. 

 “Klick! Klick!” he cried, running toward Virginia. “Go b’low, klick.” 

 “Why should I go below, Sing?” queried the girl, amazed by the demeanor of the cook. 

 “Klick! Klick!” he urged grasping her by the arm—half leading, half dragging her toward the companion-way. “Plilates! Mlalay plilates—Dyak plilates.” 

 “Pirates!” gasped Virginia. “Oh Sing, what can we do?” 

 “You go b’low. Mebbyso Sing flighten ’em. Shoot cannon. Bling help. Maxon come klick. Bling men. Chase’m ’way,” explained the Chinaman. “But plilates see ’em pletty white girl,” he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head dubiously, “then old Sing no can flighten ’em ’way.” 

 The girl shuddered, and crouching close behind Sing hurried below. A moment later she heard the boom of the old brass six pounder which for many years had graced the Ithaca’s stern. In the bow Professor Maxon had mounted a modern machine gun, but this was quite beyond 

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