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As the schooner, swifter by two to one than the battle-ships, passed onwards on her road to the Victory, the Admiral and Captain Acton recognised some of the three-deckers in which they had served as midshipmen. "I take it it's machinery an' stuff for a saw-mill," answered Billy moodily. "Is it?" "As a spectator only, I think, sir," answered Mr Fellowes..
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"I don't think he'll trouble your son in that way. He may be a Shylock, but he is not one of those money scriveners who demand your money or your flesh. At least, I should say[Pg 16] not. I only know the man to nod to. Of what use would a pound of your son's flesh be to him? I believe, sir, that Mr Lawrence is not so immoderate in his love of the glass but that he might be entrusted with the care of a ship?" Ringold nodded approval. "All right, Neighbor Watland. Anybody else got anythin' to say?" Billy blushed to the roots of his hair but his grey eyes met his father's steadily. "Yep," he answered, "jest about right." It seemed like an evil dream, but Billy knew it was no dream. Scroggie, astride a big bay horse, had passed him while he was on his way to the store with a basket of eggs for his mother, and he had pulled in at the store just as Deacon Ringold had taken the last available space on the customers' bench outside, and Caleb Spencer had come to the door to peer through the twilight in search of the Clearview stage, which was late. Noticing the stranger on horseback Caleb had hurried forward to ask how best he could serve him..
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