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"Yep; she's cannin' thimble-berries. Jest wait till I get an armful of kindlin', an' I'll go in with you." "Straight to me, dear; and at the farther end of its misty radiance I saw you standing. You stretched your dear arms out to me and along the shimmering track, drawn by your great and tender woman's love, I sped to you." "Mr Lawrence is very daring," answered Lucy. "I can easily believe that the hunchback [Pg 374]Paul, as he is called, had orders if he did not meet me to go to the house and deliver the letter to me in person.".

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"It is Lucy!" he said, in a voice in which[Pg 355] awe and amazement were so mingled that one should say the apparition of a ghost, of something spiritual and fearful to the observer, could not have filled the hollow of his mouth with that tone. "Hard, I should say so! I'll bet either one of 'em 'ud murder a hull family fer ten cents. Say, Bill, maybe they're pirates; you heard what they said about a boat, didn't you?" Lucy had often viewed this scene: her pause now was dictated by a trifling feeling of curiosity. Against the wharves on the left-hand side and over against the stump-ended projection of pier was moored her father's ship the Minorca, of which she had just now been assured Sir William Lawrence's son was to be offered the command. This vessel lay with two or three others, a brig or two and a schooner, at the wharves, and with her own and the drying sails of the others, the tall spars, the yards across, the complicated lines of the rigging, provided a bold and even ample figure of shipping to the eye. But in addition to these there lay in the harbour a number of fishing craft, and this side the extremity of the wharves within musket shot of where Lucy stood was moored the Saucy brig-of-war of about one hundred and eighty tons armed with thirty-two pounder carronades. She was one of a number of the like sort of brig which were to be found in that year (1805) on the coasts of Sussex, Suffolk, and Norfolk. These brigs were usually hauled into creeks or laid up in snug corners where the Lieutenant, as Sir William had pointed out, had his cabbage garden and pig-sty. They were designed as a provision against[Pg 27] the invasion of the French, and were quite worthless, as they were never ready, and always so anchored or so secured as to demand as much time in getting under weigh as would take a French army of invasion to march from Dover to Ashford. Above, the blue-white lightning zig-zagged and the boom of the thunder shook the earth. A huge elm shivered and shrieked as if in agony as a darting tongue of flame enwrapped it like a yellow serpent, splitting its heart in twain..