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Captain Weaver sped aft, and in a few moments the English Ensign soared to the mizzen-gaff end and streamed out fair to the sight of the approaching fleet. That evening, as he drove the cattle down along the Causeway for water he met two teams of horses hauling loads of greasy-looking timbers and black, oily pipes. The men who drove the teams were strangers to him. Scroggie, or Heir Scroggie, as he was now commonly called in the neighborhood, sat beside the driver of one of the wagons. "Yes, Mary?" he responded gently..

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"No doubt. She'd light up a wide area." Billy shook his fist at the crow. "You old beggar," he said fondly, "if that rooster was wise he'd go out with the rest of the chickens an' scratch his breakfast, 'stead o' quarrelin' with you. He don't know that you're doin' your best to starve him to death." The Aurora had hauled in to her berth; the crew were busy in unbending her sails. The Minorca lay close enough to establish a contrast, and everybody would have admitted that if the barque was a smart ship for her time, the three-masted schooner built by the Americans was as shapely a fabric as the gracefullest then afloat. The Admiral and the ladies paused before her on their way to the Minorca, which lay further on. They would not go on board; there was too much confusion. The captain, however, stumping the quarterdeck and shouting orders, saw and recognised them. He was a thick-set man, [Pg 92]brick-red in complexion, with deep-red greasy hair, ear-rings, brown eyes, and a mouth that through some injury was drawn a little way up into his left cheek. He came to the bulwark-rail with his hat in his hand, and as the Admiral and the ladies stepped to the quay-side to speak to him, he exclaimed: "Happy to see you, ma'am. And my hearty respects to you, Miss, and I hope that Admiral Lawrence is none the worse for remaining ashore." Billy eyed him appraisingly. He did look like a tough proposition, no doubt about that. His face was round, flat, small-featured. "That face'll stand a lot of pummelin'," Billy told himself, and as he noted the heavy chin, thrust antagonistically forward, "no use bruisin' my knuckles on that," he decided..