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War had swept the narrow seas, and for hours in the day little more hove into view whether from the cliffs of our country or from those of the enemy opposite, than sometimes a large convoy glimmering cloud-like as it[Pg 234] floated, some compact, some scattered, under the protection of men-of-war up Channel to London town or to other ports, or down Channel to their several destinations in various parts of the globe. "You bet. The wind's south. Have you got the worms dug?" "Whew!" he whistled, "an' all gold, too. The three pieces that Croaker took make the even three thousand.".

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"Walter Watland." "No, it ain't, 'cause he kin kill a black snake a sight easier than he kin a womper, an' I'll tell you why. Black-snakes have got teeth. They bite. But their backbone is easy broke. A womper hasn't any teeth. He strikes with his bony nose. You know what one of them snakes kin do? You saw that big one, down in Patterson's swamp lay open Moll's face with one slash. They're thick necked, an' take a lot of killin'. This crow kin kill a black-snake with one slash of his bill. He has to choke the womper to death." "Yes ma'am. I guess she'll never be able to use it ag'in." It would be impossible to describe the feelings, sensations, passions of three of the principal actors in this story. Who can analyse human emotion when its state is one of almost chaotic conflict? Sir William Lawrence being satisfied that the sail ahead was Captain Acton's barque, fixed his face in a mask iron-hard with resolution to endure, come what would. His answers were short, and to the[Pg 429] point. He had little to say. His tendency to the garrulity of old age had temporarily withered; he was as grim and reserved as though he commanded a line-of-battle ship, whose stern-walk was exclusively his promenade. He was an old sailor and a gentleman: he prided himself upon his descent; he greatly loved honour and loyalty, which is the spirit of honour, and above all, he loved truth. Yonder was his son in charge of a ship he was endeavouring to steal from his benefactor; he had by a base stratagem kidnapped the sweet and beautiful daughter of his friend; he had proved himself a liar, a thief, a scoundrel in the most voluminous sense of the word. The people of the frigate commanded by Lord Garlies might, doubtless must, come to hear all about his wrongdoing, and through them the story would leak with plenty of colour and plenty of exaggeration, into every ward-room and gun-room and cockpit in His Majesty's Service. These were thoughts and considerations to hold the Admiral austerely silent, and keep him to himself whilst the chase continued..