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"Then Miss Lucy hasn't been found, sir," said the Captain. "Well, 'cause Bill hogs it, that's why," complained Anson. "Last time we had tarts I didn't get none. An' it's the same with pie an' cake." Tom Holt, the proud possessor of a watch, consulted it. "Ten twelve an' a half," he answered, holding the dial to the moon-light. "Sandtown'll be sound asleep. Come on, let's go down to the lake an' make a haul.".
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"Well, what kind of a feller is he, anyway? Come, answer up." As he flung himself into this posture of taking aim, with some of the crew about the caboose cowering as do men who seek to dodge a missile, whilst Old Jim and the other stood in the foreground steadily staring at the enraged officer with the blood in his cheeks, Lucy Acton came on deck, and, standing with[Pg 338] her hand upon the companion-way, wild-eyed, and pale and dishevelled, with a mien of distraction which was a marvellously true copy of madness in momentary halt, watched the proceedings. "I don't think it left any mark," Billy stammered. "Anyways, I feel a whole lot better now. It was foolish for me to climb that tall tree. I didn't have to do it." The dark moonlit hours thus passed, and the Aurora followed the stranger, but at a distance that was out of cannon reach..
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