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"Ay, but they don't sing," said Captain Acton. "Give me the song of the thrush or the blackbird before all the finest feathers in the world." Lawrence had got to know of his existence by one day sauntering into the justice's court. Among the prisoners charged with various[Pg 118] misdemeanours was this man, who had no other name than Paul. He was accused of having taken a vegetable, a cabbage or a turnip, from a field which lay invitingly open, and the punishment inflicted was a fine or a term of imprisonment. Mr Lawrence, struck by the extraordinary appearance of the man, or witnessing a very great hardship in a pauper having to pay for so mean a thing as a turnip by a considerable term of incarceration, put his hand in his pocket with a sailor's liberality, and finding the money that was wanted, handed the amount to an official of the court, and the man went free. Maurice squirmed uneasily, then he said: "'Course, Bill, it's up to you an' me to find that will. But I'll be shot if I'd do what we'll have to do fer anybody else in the world but him.".

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"Well, jest you wait till Ma asks him why he did it," laughed Maurice, who now was almost normal again. "Ma's great on gettin' explanations, she is." "And what is that conviction, madam?" asked Sir William, from whose jolly round face fatigue had robbed much of its warm colour. "You will know, sir," replied Captain Acton, "one of Nelson's favourite sayings: at sea something must be left to chance. I count upon the crew of the Minorca, when they sight the Aurora and understand her mission, which they will guess without explanation, backing her main-topsail in defiance of your son's firearms and calling upon us to take possession. If this does not happen, I shall not be at a loss, and meanwhile, Sir William, let us get a view of the barque." "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?".