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She was dressed, of course, in the costume in which she had been kidnapped, and like the sailors she looked very much the worse for wear and tear. Her jockey-shaped hat, so modish and even rakish when purchased, had fallen into a confusion of headgear, a something that might have wanted a name had it been found on the highway. Her hair looked wild in the inartistic dressing it suffered from. Her rich and characteristic bloom had faded, and what lingered was but[Pg 360] as a delicate faint flush of expiring sunset. But even as she stood, not the most cynical and aspish of her own sex would have challenged her beauty, the charms of her figure, the melting sweetness of her eyes on whose dark-brown irids the white lids, rich in eyelash, reposed. Those eyes were wet now, and tears were upon her cheeks. "Listened for the splash," Stanhope answered. "Are you loaded, Billy? There's another flock coming." Landon was much improved in health. He spoke with little effort, the hollows in his cheeks were filling and his eyes were brighter than the girl had seen them for many a day. He gazed longingly down at the cigar, then glancing up to catch his daughter's reproachful look, sighed and laid it on the table..

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"Look!" he whispered. "Look! There's a light in the ha'nted house." "Thomas has sure fattened up," grinned Jim. "I guess it would puzzle old Johnston to know our horse now, eh, Bill?" On this Captain Acton and his friend went on deck. The schooner was travelling three or four knots one way, and the stranger was heading directly for her at some small pace, so that the speed of the two vessels being combined, the sail might be expected to show a clear hull; which she did, and with the aid of their telescopes, Captain Acton and Sir William confirmed the conjecture of Captain Weaver. She was either a little brig or a brigantine—her after-sails were concealed; her burden was very small. The dusty and rusty complexion of her canvas neutralised the brilliance which most ships' sails shine with when the silver glory of the morning sun pours strong upon them. By half-past nine, three bells by the schooner's clock, the stranger was on the larboard-bow with her main topsail to the mast, and so close that it seemed almost possible to distinguish the faces of her people. "I judge by this," said Captain Acton, addressing the Admiral, "that my sealed orders"—he smiled sarcastically, and the Admiral listened with a frown—"have not yet been read to the crew by Mr Lawrence.".