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"S'elp me, your honour, it's no fault of any[Pg 435] man aboard saving the party you gave the command of this ship to," answered Mr Eagle in a profoundly respectful, obsequious, yet sour and protesting manner and voice as though he had been wounded in a very delicate part of his honour. It was a May morning in the English Channel. Over the soft blue of the sky some large clouds as yellow and tender for the eye to dwell upon as the spume of the sea from the receding breaker, with glories in their brows and glories in their skirts, were sailing slowly and stately on the mild breeze that blew sweet with mingled odours of land and brine from the coast of Old England. There was weight enough in the wind to grace the lines of streaming waters as they ran with feathers of foam, and on this wide plain, with the shores of Britain dwelling in a faint, violet shadow upon the starboard horizon north, but one ship was visible and scarce to be wondered at! "Yep, I hear him, but all crows do that," Maurice hastened to explain. Then as a shrill note, half a cluck and half a whistle, sounded from the bushes, he added quickly. "That's a hen partridge callin'. That crow's tryin' to scare her off her nest, most like, so's he kin steal the eggs.".

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"You are quite right," said Captain Weaver. "Guns would only be in our way, and sarve to check the beauty, which we don't want." "No fear, sir," called the Captain over the bulwark-rail, with a steady shake of the head and a smile that merely ran his mouth higher into his cheek. "I've set my 'eart upon making him a lawyer. He shall end like old Mr Greyquill, as rich and as comfortable; and when he's old he'll hang out a white head of hair like a flag of truce, to let the world understand he don't want any more quarrelling." "Hello," Anson accosted. "Goin' to school?" Whilst they waited for Sir William the conversation turned upon his son..