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"No, sir, no!" cried the Admiral in a deep, trembling voice. "But with the two of 'em," cried Billy eagerly, "we kin surely find the will, Harry." "You might tell him that he's an angel if you wanter lie to him," returned Shipley, "or that he's a canny old skin-flint, if you wanter tell him the truth. I reckon, though, sonny, you best tell him that we'll be along 'tween ten and leven..

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So saying, and evidently not much impressed by meeting an Admiral of whom he had never heard in a schooner that looked uncommonly like a slaver or a pirate, the[Pg 396] lieutenant disappeared, and a moment or two after, the frigate trimmed sail to rejoin the fleet. "Boys and girls," he said at length, "one or more of you have been guilty of the most unpardonable misdemeanor that has ever come under my observation as a teacher. I realize that the dirty trick has been deliberately planned, the motive being perhaps to test me. You may believe me when I inform you that the one who placed that sulphur in the stove will have plenty of reason to regret having done it. I intend to flog him—or her—until he—or she—cannot stand. I shall now ask the one who is guilty of the offense to stand up." "Your father was telling me a few days ago," said Captain Acton, "of a narrow escape of yours, sir." He was Mr Walter Lawrence, a son of Admiral Lawrence, and down to a recent period a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. He was something over thirty years of age, but drink, dissipation, the hard life of the sea and some fever which had got into his blood and proved intermittent, had worked in his face like time, and he might have passed for any age between thirty-five and forty-five. Nevertheless he was an extremely handsome man, of the classic Greek type in lineament, but improved, at least to the British eye, by the Saxon colouring of hair, skin, and eyes. His teeth were extraordinarily white and good for a sailor who had lived on gun-room fare in times when the ship's biscuit was flint, and the peas which rolled about in the discoloured hot water called soup, fit only for loading a blunderbuss with to shoot men dead. His eyes told their tale of drink, but they were large and fine and spirited; his light brown hair, according to the fashion of[Pg 39] the age, was combed down his back and lay in a rope-shaped tail there. He wore a wide-brimmed round hat, and his attire, a little the worse for wear, consisted of a blue coat, white waistcoat, sage-green kerseymere breeches, and, needless to say, the cravat was high and full. He stood about six feet, his figure was extremely well proportioned, and in addition to these merits his carriage had the easy elegance which the flow of the billow and the heave of the deck infuse into all human figures not radically vile and deformed. His voice was soft, winning, and somewhat plaintive, and no man, whether on or off the stage, not even Incledon, sang a song with more exquisite feeling and sweeter sincerity of passion..