Since earliest childhood I have been strangely fascinated bythe mystery surrounding the history of the last days oftwentieth century Europe. My interest is keenest, perhaps,not so much in relation to known facts as to speculationupon the unknowable of the two centuries that have rolled bysince human intercourse between the Western and EasternHemispheres ceased--the mystery of Europe's state followingthe termination of the Great War--provided, of course, thatthe war had been terminated.

From out of the meagerness of our censored histories welearned that for fifteen years after the cessation ofdiplomatic relations between the United States of NorthAmerica and the belligerent nations of the Old World, newsof more or less doubtful authenticity filtered, from time totime, into the Western Hemisphere from the Eastern.

Then came the fruition of that historic propaganda which isbest described by its own slogan: "The East for the East--the West for the West," and all further intercourse wasstopped by statute.

Even prior to this, transoceanic commerce had practicallyceased, owing to the perils and hazards of the mine-strewnwaters of both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Just whensubmarine activities ended we do not know but the lastvessel of this type sighted by a Pan-American merchantmanwas the huge Q 138, which discharged twenty-nine torpedoesat a Brazilian tank steamer off the Bermudas in the fall of1972. A heavy sea and the excellent seamanship of themaster of the Brazilian permitted the Pan-American to escapeand report this last of a long series of outrages upon ourcommerce. God alone knows how many hundreds of our ancientships fell prey to the roving steel sharks of blood-frenziedEurope. Countless were the vessels and men that passed overour eastern and western horizons never to return; butwhether they met their fates before the belching tubes ofsubmarines or among the aimlessly drifting mine fields, noman lived to tell.

And then came the great Pan-American Federation which linkedthe Western Hemisphere from pole to pole under a singleflag, which joined the navies of the New World into themightiest fighting force that ever sailed the seven seas--the greatest argument for peace the world had ever known.

Since that day peace had reigned from the western shores ofthe Azores to the western shores of the Hawaiian Islands,nor has any man of either hemisphere dared cross 30dW. or175dW. From 30d to 175d is ours--from 30d to 175d ispeace, prosperity and happiness.

Beyond was the great unknown. Even the geographies of myboyhood showed nothing beyond. We were taught of nothingbeyond. Speculation was discouraged. For two hundred yearsthe Eastern Hemisphere had been wiped from the maps andhistories of Pan-America. Its mention in fiction, even, wasforbidden.

Our ships of peace patrol thirty and one hundred seventy-five. What ships from beyond they have warned only thesecret archives of government show; but, a naval officermyself, I have gathered from the traditions of the servicethat it has been fully two hundred years since smoke or sailhas been sighted east of 30d or west of 175d. The fate ofthe relinquished provinces which lay beyond the dead lineswe could only speculate upon. That they were taken by themilitary power, which rose so suddenly in China after thefall of the republic, and which wrested Manchuria and Koreafrom Russia and Japan, and also absorbed the Philippines, isquite within the range of possibility.

It was the commander of a Chinese man-of-war who received acopy of the edict of 1972 from the hand of my illustriousancestor, Admiral Turck, on one hundred seventy-five, twohundred and six years ago, and from the yellowed pages ofthe admiral's diary I learned that the fate of thePhilippines was even then presaged by these Chinese navalofficers.

Yes, for over two hundred years no man crossed 30d to 175dand lived to tell his story--not until chance drew me acrossand back again, and public opinion, revolting at lastagainst the drastic regulations of our long-dead forbears,demanded that my story be given to the world, and that thenarrow interdict which commanded peace, prosperity, andhappiness to halt at 30d and 175d be removed forever.

I am glad that it was given to me to be an instrument in thehands of Providence for the uplifting of benighted Europe,and the amelioration of the suffering, degradation, andabysmal ignorance in which I found her.

I shall not live to see the complete regeneration of thesavage hordes of the Eastern Hemisphere--that is a workwhich will require many generations, perhaps ages, socomplete has been their reversion to savagery; but I knowthat the work has been started, and I am proud of the sharein it which my generous countrymen have placed in my hands.

The government already possesses a complete official reportof my adventures beyond thirty. In the narrative I purposetelling my story in a less formal, and I hope, a moreentertaining, style; though, being only a naval officer andwithout claim to the slightest literary ability, I shallmost certainly fall far short of the possibilities which areinherent in my subject. That I have passed through the mostwondrous adventures that have befallen a civilized manduring the past two centuries encourages me in the beliefthat, however ill the telling, the facts themselves willcommand your interest to the final page.

Beyond thirty! Romance, adventure, strange peoples,fearsome beasts--all the excitement and scurry of the livesof the twentieth century ancients that have been denied usin these dull days of peace and prosaic prosperity--all, alllay beyond thirty, the invisible barrier between the stupid,commercial present and the carefree, barbarous past.

What boy has not sighed for the good old days of wars,revolutions, and riots; how I used to pore over thechronicles of those old days, those dear old days, whenworkmen went armed to their labors; when they fell upon oneanother with gun and bomb and dagger, and the streets ranred with blood! Ah, but those were the times when life wasworth the living; when a man who went out by night knew notat which dark corner a "footpad" might leap upon and slayhim; when wild beasts roamed the forest and the jungles, andthere were savage men, and countries yet unexplored.

Now, in all the Western Hemisphere dwells no man who may notfind a school house within walking distance of his home, orat least within flying distance.

The wildest beast that roams our waste places lairs in thefrozen north or the frozen south within a governmentreserve, where the curious may view him and feed him breadcrusts from the hand with perfect impunity.

But beyond thirty! And I have gone there, and come back;and now you may go there, for no longer is it high treason,punishable by disgrace or death, to cross 30d or 175d.

My name is Jefferson Turck. I am a lieutenant in the navy--in the great Pan-American navy, the only navy which nowexists in all the world.

I was born in Arizona, in the United States of NorthAmerica, in the year of our Lord 2116. Therefore, I amtwenty-one years old.

In early boyhood I tired of the teeming cities andovercrowded rural districts of Arizona. Every generation ofTurcks for over two centuries has been represented in thenavy. The navy called to me, as did the free, wide,unpeopled spaces of the mighty oceans. And so I joined thenavy, coming up from the ranks, as we all must, learning ourcraft as we advance. My promotion was rapid, for my familyseems to inherit naval lore. We are born officers, and Ireserve to myself no special credit for an early advancementin the service.

At twenty I found myself a lieutenant in command of theaero-submarine Coldwater, of the SS-96 class. The Coldwaterwas one of the first of the air and underwater craft whichhave been so greatly improved since its launching, and waspossessed of innumerable weaknesses which, fortunately, havebeen eliminated in more recent vessels of similar type.

Even when I took command, she was fit only for the junkpile; but the world-old parsimony of government retained herin active service, and sent two hundred men to sea in her,with myself, a mere boy, in command of her, to patrol thirtyfrom Iceland to the Azores.

Much of my service had been spent aboard the greatmerchantmen-of-war. These are the utility naval vesselsthat have transformed the navies of old, which burdened thepeoples with taxes for their support, into the present dayfleets of self-supporting ships that find ample time fortarget practice and gun drill while they bear freight andthe mails from the continents to the far-scattered island ofPan-America.

This change in service was most welcome to me, especially asit brought with it coveted responsibilities of sole command,and I was prone to overlook the deficiencies of theColdwater in the natural pride I felt in my first ship.

The Coldwater was fully equipped for two months' patrolling--the ordinary length of assignment to this service--and amonth had already passed, its monotony entirely unrelievedby sight of another craft, when the first of our misfortunesbefell.

We had been riding out a storm at an altitude of about threethousand feet. All night we had hovered above the tossingbillows of the moonlight clouds. The detonation of thethunder and the glare of lightning through an occasionalrift in the vaporous wall proclaimed the continued fury ofthe tempest upon the surface of the sea; but we, far aboveit all, rode in comparative ease upon the upper gale. Withthe coming of dawn the clouds beneath us became a glorioussea of gold and silver, soft and beautiful; but they couldnot deceive us as to the blackness and the terrors of thestorm-lashed ocean which they hid.

I was at breakfast when my chief engineer entered andsaluted. His face was grave, and I thought he was even atrifle paler than usual.

"Well?" I asked.

He drew the back of his forefinger nervously across his browin a gesture that was habitual with him in moments of mentalstress.

"The gravitation-screen generators, sir," he said. "Numberone went to the bad about an hour and a half ago. We havebeen working upon it steadily since; but I have to report,sir, that it is beyond repair."

"Number two will keep us supplied," I answered. "In themeantime we will send a wireless for relief."

"But that is the trouble, sir," he went on. "Number two hasstopped. I knew it would come, sir. I made a report onthese generators three years ago. I advised then that theyboth be scrapped. Their principle is entirely wrong.They're done for." And, with a grim smile, "I shall atleast have the satisfaction of knowing my report wasaccurate."

"Have we sufficient reserve screen to permit us to makeland, or, at least, meet our relief halfway?" I asked.

"No, sir," he replied gravely; "we are sinking now."

"Have you anything further to report?" I asked.

"No, sir," he said.

"Very good," I replied; and, as I dismissed him, I rang formy wireless operator. When he appeared, I gave him amessage to the secretary of the navy, to whom all vessels inservice on thirty and one hundred seventy-five reportdirect. I explained our predicament, and stated that withwhat screening force remained I should continue in the air,making as rapid headway toward St. Johns as possible, andthat when we were forced to take to the water I shouldcontinue in the same direction.

The accident occurred directly over 30d and about 52d N.The surface wind was blowing a tempest from the west. Toattempt to ride out such a storm upon the surface seemedsuicidal, for the Coldwater was not designed for surfacenavigation except under fair weather conditions. Submerged,or in the air, she was tractable enough in any sort ofweather when under control; but without her screengenerators she was almost helpless, since she could not fly,and, if submerged, could not rise to the surface.

All these defects have been remedied in later models; butthe knowledge did not help us any that day aboard the slowlysettling Coldwater, with an angry sea roaring beneath, atempest raging out of the west, and 30d only a few knotsastern.

To cross thirty or one hundred seventy-five has been, as youknow, the direst calamity that could befall a navalcommander. Court-martial and degradation follow swiftly,unless as is often the case, the unfortunate man takes hisown life before this unjust and heartless regulation canhold him up to public scorn.

There has been in the past no excuse, no circumstance, thatcould palliate the offense.

"He was in command, and he took his ship across thirty!"That was sufficient. It might not have been in any way hisfault, as, in the case of the Coldwater, it could notpossibly have been justly charged to my account that thegravitation-screen generators were worthless; but well Iknew that should chance have it that we were blown acrossthirty today--as we might easily be before the terrific westwind that we could hear howling below us, the responsibilitywould fall upon my shoulders.

In a way, the regulation was a good one, for it certainlyaccomplished that for which it was intended. We all foughtshy of 30d on the east and 175d on the west, and, though wehad to skirt them pretty close, nothing but an act of Godever drew one of us across. You all are familiar with thenaval tradition that a good officer could sense proximity toeither line, and for my part, I am firmly convinced of thetruth of this as I am that the compass finds the northwithout recourse to tedious processes of reasoning.

Old Admiral Sanchez was wont to maintain that he could smellthirty, and the men of the first ship in which I sailedclaimed that Coburn, the navigating officer, knew by nameevery wave along thirty from 60dN. to 60dS. However, I'dhate to vouch for this.

Well, to get back to my narrative; we kept on droppingslowly toward the surface the while we bucked the west wind,clawing away from thirty as fast as we could. I was on thebridge, and as we dropped from the brilliant sunlight intothe dense vapor of clouds and on down through them to thewild, dark storm strata beneath, it seemed that my spiritsdropped with the falling ship, and the buoyancy of hope ranlow in sympathy.

The waves were running to tremendous heights, and theColdwater was not designed to meet such waves head on. Herelements were the blue ether, far above the raging storm, orthe greater depths of ocean, which no storm could ruffle.

As I stood speculating upon our chances once we settled intothe frightful Maelstrom beneath us and at the same timementally computing the hours which must elapse before aidcould reach us, the wireless operator clambered up theladder to the bridge, and, disheveled and breathless, stoodbefore me at salute. It needed but a glance at him toassure me that something was amiss.

"What now?" I asked.

"The wireless, sir!" he cried. "My God, sir, I cannotsend."

"But the emergency outfit?" I asked.

"I have tried everything, sir. I have exhausted everyresource. We cannot send," and he drew himself up andsaluted again.

I dismissed him with a few kind words, for I knew that itwas through no fault of his that the mechanism wasantiquated and worthless, in common with the balance of theColdwater's equipment. There was no finer operator in Pan-America than he.

The failure of the wireless did not appear as momentous tome as to him, which is not unnatural, since it is but humanto feel that when our own little cog slips, the entireuniverse must necessarily be put out of gear. I knew thatif this storm were destined to blow us across thirty, orsend us to the bottom of the ocean, no help could reach usin time to prevent it. I had ordered the message sentsolely because regulations required it, and not with anyparticular hope that we could benefit by it in our presentextremity.

I had little time to dwell upon the coincidence of thesimultaneous failure of the wireless and the buoyancygenerators, since very shortly after the Coldwater haddropped so low over the waters that all my attention wasnecessarily centered upon the delicate business of settlingupon the waves without breaking my ship's back. With ourbuoyancy generators in commission it would have been asimple thing to enter the water, since then it would havebeen but a trifling matter of a forty-five degree dive intothe base of a huge wave. We should have cut into the waterlike a hot knife through butter, and have been totallysubmerged with scarce a jar--I have done it a thousandtimes--but I did not dare submerge the Coldwater for fearthat it would remain submerged to the end of time--acondition far from conducive to the longevity of commanderor crew.

Most of my officers were older men than I. John Alvarez, myfirst officer, is twenty years my senior. He stood at myside on the bridge as the ship glided closer and closer tothose stupendous waves. He watched my every move, but hewas by far too fine an officer and gentleman to embarrass meby either comment or suggestion.

When I saw that we soon would touch, I ordered the shipbrought around broadside to the wind, and there we hovered amoment until a huge wave reached up and seized us upon itscrest, and then I gave the order that suddenly reversed thescreening force, and let us into the ocean. Down into thetrough we went, wallowing like the carcass of a dead whale,and then began the fight, with rudder and propellers, toforce the Coldwater back into the teeth of the gale anddrive her on and on, farther and farther from relentlessthirty.

I think that we should have succeeded, even though the shipwas wracked from stem to stern by the terrific buffetingsshe received, and though she were half submerged the greaterpart of the time, had no further accident befallen us.

We were making headway, though slowly, and it began to lookas though we were going to pull through. Alvarez never leftmy side, though I all but ordered him below for much-neededrest. My second officer, Porfirio Johnson, was also oftenon the bridge. He was a good officer, but a man for whom Ihad conceived a rather unreasoning aversion almost at thefirst moment of meeting him, an aversion which was notlessened by the knowledge which I subsequently gained thathe looked upon my rapid promotion with jealousy. He was tenyears my senior both in years and service, and I ratherthink he could never forget the fact that he had been anofficer when I was a green apprentice.

As it became more and more apparent that the Coldwater,under my seamanship, was weathering the tempest and givingpromise of pulling through safely, I could have sworn that Iperceived a shade of annoyance and disappointment growingupon his dark countenance. He left the bridge finally andwent below. I do not know that he is directly responsiblefor what followed so shortly after; but I have always had mysuspicions, and Alvarez is even more prone to place theblame upon him than I.

It was about six bells of the forenoon watch that Johnsonreturned to the bridge after an absence of some thirtyminutes. He seemed nervous and ill at ease--a fact whichmade little impression on me at the time, but which bothAlvarez and I recalled subsequently.

Not three minutes after his reappearance at my side theColdwater suddenly commenced to lose headway. I seized thetelephone at my elbow, pressing upon the button which wouldcall the chief engineer to the instrument in the bowels ofthe ship, only to find him already at the receiverattempting to reach me.

"Numbers one, two, and five engines have broken down, sir,"he called. "Shall we force the remaining three?"

"We can do nothing else," I bellowed into the transmitter.

"They won't stand the gaff, sir," he returned.

"Can you suggest a better plan?" I asked.

"No, sir," he replied.

"Then give them the gaff, lieutenant," I shouted back, andhung up the receiver.

For twenty minutes the Coldwater bucked the great seas withher three engines. I doubt if she advanced a foot; but itwas enough to keep her nose in the wind, and, at least, wewere not drifting toward thirty.

Johnson and Alvarez were at my side when, without warning,the bow swung swiftly around and the ship fell into thetrough of the sea.

"The other three have gone," I said, and I happened to belooking at Johnson as I spoke. Was it the shadow of asatisfied smile that crossed his thin lips? I do not know;but at least he did not weep.

"You always have been curious, sir, about the great unknownbeyond thirty," he said. "You are in a good way to haveyour curiosity satisfied." And then I could not mistake theslight sneer that curved his upper lip. There must havebeen a trace of disrespect in his tone or manner whichescaped me, for Alvarez turned upon him like a flash.

"When Lieutenant Turck crosses thirty," he said, "we shallall cross with him, and God help the officer or the man whoreproaches him!"

"I shall not be a party to high treason," snapped Johnson."The regulations are explicit, and if the Coldwater crossesthirty it devolves upon you to place Lieutenant Turck underarrest and immediately exert every endeavor to bring theship back into Pan-American waters."

"I shall not know," replied Alvarez, "that the Coldwaterpasses thirty; nor shall any other man aboard know it," and,with his words, he drew a revolver from his pocket, andbefore either I or Johnson could prevent it had put a bulletinto every instrument upon the bridge, ruining them beyondrepair.

And then he saluted me, and strode from the bridge, a martyrto loyalty and friendship, for, though no man might knowthat Lieutenant Jefferson Turck had taken his ship acrossthirty, every man aboard would know that the first officerhad committed a crime that was punishable by bothdegradation and death. Johnson turned and eyed me narrowly.

"Shall I place him under arrest?" he asked.

"You shall not," I replied. "Nor shall anyone else."

"You become a party to his crime!" he cried angrily.

"You may go below, Mr. Johnson," I said, "and attend to thework of unpacking the extra instruments and having themproperly set upon the bridge."

He saluted, and left me, and for some time I stood, gazingout upon the angry waters, my mind filled with unhappyreflections upon the unjust fate that had overtaken me, andthe sorrow and disgrace that I had unwittingly brought downupon my house.

I rejoiced that I should leave neither wife nor child tobear the burden of my shame throughout their lives.

As I thought upon my misfortune, I considered more clearlythan ever before the unrighteousness of the regulation whichwas to prove my doom, and in the natural revolt against itsinjustice my anger rose, and there mounted within me afeeling which I imagine must have paralleled that spiritthat once was prevalent among the ancients called anarchy.

For the first time in my life I found my sentiments arrayingthemselves against custom, tradition, and even government.The wave of rebellion swept over me in an instant, beginningwith an heretical doubt as to the sanctity of theestablished order of things--that fetish which has ruledPan-Americans for two centuries, and which is based upon ablind faith in the infallibility of the prescience of thelong-dead framers of the articles of Pan-Americanfederation--and ending in an adamantine determination todefend my honor and my life to the last ditch against theblind and senseless regulation which assumed the synonymityof misfortune and treason.

I would replace the destroyed instruments upon the bridge;every officer and man should know when we crossed thirty.But then I should assert the spirit which dominated me, Ishould resist arrest, and insist upon bringing my ship backacross the dead line, remaining at my post until we hadreached New York. Then I should make a full report, andwith it a demand upon public opinion that the dead lines bewiped forever from the seas.

I knew that I was right. I knew that no more loyal officerwore the uniform of the navy. I knew that I was a goodofficer and sailor, and I didn't propose submitting todegradation and discharge because a lot of old, preglacialfossils had declared over two hundred years before that noman should cross thirty.

Even while these thoughts were passing through my mind I wasbusy with the details of my duties. I had seen to it that asea anchor was rigged, and even now the men had completedtheir task, and the Coldwater was swinging around rapidly,her nose pointing once more into the wind, and the frightfulrolling consequent upon her wallowing in the trough washappily diminishing.

It was then that Johnson came hurrying to the bridge. Oneof his eyes was swollen and already darkening, and his lipwas cut and bleeding. Without even the formality of asalute, he burst upon me, white with fury.

"Lieutenant Alvarez attacked me!" he cried. "I demand thathe be placed under arrest. I found him in the act ofdestroying the reserve instruments, and when I would haveinterfered to protect them he fell upon me and beat me. Idemand that you arrest him!"

"You forget yourself, Mr. Johnson," I said. "You are not incommand of the ship. I deplore the action of LieutenantAlvarez, but I cannot expunge from my mind the loyalty andself-sacrificing friendship which has prompted him to hisacts. Were I you, sir, I should profit by the example hehas set. Further, Mr. Johnson, I intend retaining commandof the ship, even though she crosses thirty, and I shalldemand implicit obedience from every officer and man aboarduntil I am properly relieved from duty by a superior officerin the port of New York."

"You mean to say that you will cross thirty withoutsubmitting to arrest?" he almost shouted.

"I do, sir," I replied. "And now you may go below, and,when again you find it necessary to address me, you willplease be so good as to bear in mind the fact that I am yourcommanding officer, and as such entitled to a salute."

He flushed, hesitated a moment, and then, saluting, turnedupon his heel and left the bridge. Shortly after, Alvarezappeared. He was pale, and seemed to have aged ten years inthe few brief minutes since I last had seen him. Saluting,he told me very simply what he had done, and asked that Iplace him under arrest.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and I guess that my voicetrembled a trifle as, while reproving him for his act, Imade it plain to him that my gratitude was no less potent aforce than his loyalty to me. Then it was that I outlinedto him my purpose to defy the regulation that had raised thedead lines, and to take my ship back to New York myself.

I did not ask him to share the responsibility with me. Imerely stated that I should refuse to submit to arrest, andthat I should demand of him and every other officer and manimplicit obedience to my every command until we docked athome.

His face brightened at my words, and he assured me that Iwould find him as ready to acknowledge my command upon thewrong side of thirty as upon the right, an assurance which Ihastened to tell him I did not need.

The storm continued to rage for three days, and as far asthe wind scarce varied a point during all that time, I knewthat we must be far beyond thirty, drifting rapidly east bysouth. All this time it had been impossible to work uponthe damaged engines or the gravity-screen generators; but wehad a full set of instruments upon the bridge, for Alvarez,after discovering my intentions, had fetched the reserveinstruments from his own cabin, where he had hidden them.Those which Johnson had seen him destroy had been a thirdset which only Alvarez had known was aboard the Coldwater.

We waited impatiently for the sun, that we might determineour exact location, and upon the fourth day our vigil wasrewarded a few minutes before noon.

Every officer and man aboard was tense with nervousexcitement as we awaited the result of the reading. Thecrew had known almost as soon as I that we were doomed tocross thirty, and I am inclined to believe that every manjack of them was tickled to death, for the spirits ofadventure and romance still live in the hearts of men of thetwenty-second century, even though there be little for themto feed upon between thirty and one hundred seventy-five.

The men carried none of the burdens of responsibility. Theymight cross thirty with impunity, and doubtless they wouldreturn to be heroes at home; but how different the home-coming of their commanding officer!

The wind had dropped to a steady blow, still from west bynorth, and the sea had gone down correspondingly. The crew,with the exception of those whose duties kept them below,were ranged on deck below the bridge. When our position wasdefinitely fixed I personally announced it to the eager,waiting men.

"Men," I said, stepping forward to the handrail and lookingdown into their upturned, bronzed faces, "you are anxiouslyawaiting information as to the ship's position. It has beendetermined at latitude fifty degrees seven minutes north,longitude twenty degrees sixteen minutes west."

I paused and a buzz of animated comment ran through themassed men beneath me. "Beyond thirty. But there will beno change in commanding officers, in routine or indiscipline, until after we have docked again in New York."

As I ceased speaking and stepped back from the rail therewas a roar of applause from the deck such as I never beforehad heard aboard a ship of peace. It recalled to my mindtales that I had read of the good old days when navalvessels were built to fight, when ships of peace had beenman-of-war, and guns had flashed in other than futile targetpractice, and decks had run red with blood.

With the subsistence of the sea, we were able to go to workupon the damaged engines to some effect, and I also set mento examining the gravitation-screen generators with a viewto putting them in working order should it prove not beyondour resources.

For two weeks we labored at the engines, which indisputablyshowed evidence of having been tampered with. I appointed aboard to investigate and report upon the disaster. But itaccomplished nothing other than to convince me that therewere several officers upon it who were in full sympathy withJohnson, for, though no charges had been preferred againsthim, the board went out of its way specifically to exoneratehim in its findings.

All this time we were drifting almost due east. The workupon the engines had progressed to such an extent thatwithin a few hours we might expect to be able to proceedunder our own power westward in the direction of Pan-American waters.

To relieve the monotony I had taken to fishing, and earlythat morning I had departed from the Coldwater in one of theboats on such an excursion. A gentle west wind was blowing.The sea shimmered in the sunlight. A cloudless sky canopiedthe west for our sport, as I had made it a point nevervoluntarily to make an inch toward the east that I couldavoid. At least, they should not be able to charge me witha willful violation of the dead lines regulation.

I had with me only the boat's ordinary complement of men--three in all, and more than enough to handle any small powerboat. I had not asked any of my officers to accompany me,as I wished to be alone, and very glad am I now that I hadnot. My only regret is that, in view of what befell us, ithad been necessary to bring the three brave fellows whomanned the boat.

Our fishing, which proved excellent, carried us so far tothe west that we no longer could see the Coldwater. The daywore on, until at last, about mid-afternoon, I gave theorder to return to the ship.

We had proceeded but a short distance toward the east whenone of the men gave an exclamation of excitement, at thesame time pointing eastward. We all looked on in thedirection he had indicated, and there, a short distanceabove the horizon, we saw the outlines of the Coldwatersilhouetted against the sky.

"They've repaired the engines and the generators both,"exclaimed one of the men.

It seemed impossible, but yet it had evidently been done.Only that morning, Lieutenant Johnson had told me that hefeared that it would be impossible to repair the generators.I had put him in charge of this work, since he always hadbeen accounted one of the best gravitation-screen men inthe navy. He had invented several of the improvements thatare incorporated in the later models of these generators,and I am convinced that he knows more concerning both thetheory and the practice of screening gravitation than anyliving Pan-American.

At the sight of the Coldwater once more under control, thethree men burst into a glad cheer. But, for some reasonwhich I could not then account, I was strangely overcome bya premonition of personal misfortune. It was not that I nowanticipated an early return to Pan-America and a board ofinquiry, for I had rather looked forward to the fight thatmust follow my return. No, there was something else,something indefinable and vague that cast a strange gloomupon me as I saw my ship rising farther above the water andmaking straight in our direction.

I was not long in ascertaining a possible explanation of mydepression, for, though we were plainly visible from thebridge of the aero-submarine and to the hundreds of men whoswarmed her deck, the ship passed directly above us, notfive hundred feet from the water, and sped directlywestward.

We all shouted, and I fired my pistol to attract theirattention, though I knew full well that all who cared to hadobserved us, but the ship moved steadily away, growingsmaller and smaller to our view until at last she passedcompletely out of sight.