For Jacinta by Harold Bindloss

It was a fine morning, and the signal, "Steamer approaching from the South," was flying from the staff high up on the Isleta hill, when Pancho Brown's boat lay heaving on the smooth swell at the entrance to Las Palmas harbour. Mrs. Hatherly, Jacinta, and Muriel sat in the stern-sheets, and beyond them two barefooted Canarios were resting on their oars, while two or three miles away a smear of smoke that half hid a streak of dusky hull moved towards them across the shining sea. Brown was watching it attentively with a pair of marine glasses in his hand.

"You have brought me off several times for nothing, but I almost think our friends have turned up at last," he said. "Of course, from Lieutenant Onslow's cable she should have been here several days ago, but it's very likely the engines would give them trouble. Any way, we'll know in ten minutes or so. There's the _Sanidad_ going off."