tourists about the island during the winter season was at the landing place to meet us. It seemed that every hack and bus in town was out, expecting a great day's work. The reason was soon explained. The negroes were confident the storm would not abate, and that the Colonia could not make the trip. They passed around the word that no passenger would be carried across the island in their coaches for less than $7. They proposed to make this their holiday, but they counted without their host. The first of April was over. The Colonia had been trimmed up somewhat, but many of the passengers hesitated to again embark. They were finally gotten together, however, and the voyage began. The lower deck was still largely taken up with the cargo of provisions, including the live fowl, the fish and the turtles. Some of the fowls were sufficiently game to amuse a few of the passengers when the trip became tedious. We passed over the beautiful sea-gardens, noting, as we went, the delightful clarity of the water, and after hours of careful sailing at last sighted the ship we had lost. A hasty collection for our gallant captain and his crew was cheerfully contributed. We found anchored nearby the Bluecher two large sailing vessels, both disabled and holding fast to this place of shelter, showing that others had suffered the effects of the great storm. As we approached the ship, the anxious passengers crowded to the rail, then the band began to play, and a more cheerful home-coming, perhaps, could not well be conceived. Shouts and cheers went up from both vessels. "In One Brief Year I'll Have Served My Time," a Russian folk-lore song, happened to be the band's selection for the occasion. We were reunited; families dissevered for four long days under circumstances novel enough for the romancer, were coming together. The raising of the gang-plank over the now smooth and placid waters was the signal for a great cheer. Then, one by one, the passengers felt their way across, to receive, on the firm deck of the great ship, the hugs and hand-grasps of their relatives and friends. It was a time for hugging, kissing and crying, and some of the women fairly danced with joy. They frankly admitted that they had been unaware of our fate until the arrival of the messages earlier in the day. Many had been seasick, and this only added to their sense of distress. We found Dr. White, the former German Ambassador, very much improved in health. He shook hands with the Speaker and started in at once to swap experiences. A dash was made for the staterooms, and particularly for the bath, and at dinner that evening there was such an assemblage of hungry and nerve-wrought people as the Bluecher had never seen before. Dr. Tiffany, of New York, was telling me of some of the incidents on shipboard and of the frequent anxious conferences with the Captain. They were in great doubt as to the abatement of the storm. "Finally, I remarked to the Captain," laughed the clergyman, "that I was afraid we might have to hold another Sunday service on board." "O," said the Captain, hopefully, "it's not so bad as dot!" CHAPTER XIV. HOMEWARD BOUND. Song of the Statesmen-Reflections of Nassau-A Progressive Dinner-The Speaker as a Matchmaker-A Sudden Stop-Bark in Distress-Rescue of the Crew-Burned at Sea-Our Own Escape -Tribute to McKinley-Preparing for Inspection-The Problem of the Stewards-Discussion of Forest Reservations-Tawney on Federal Retrenchment-Development of the Special AgentFacing the Reporters-The Five Million Conspiracy. I. On March the fifth, we started out, to cross the Spanish Main; CHORUS. Oh, Mister Dooley, - Oh, Mister Dooley, Is Mister Dooley, is Mister Dooley, Is Mister Dooley, -ooley, -ooley, oo! II. We have upon the ship, a man whose name is Mister Mann, For every time you rise to speak, he rises to object. CHORUS. Does Mister May-yan; does Mister May-yan, Is Mister May-yan, is Mister May-yan, |