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Captain Weaver knew many who were engaged on the several wharves, and so indeed did Captain Acton. They asked two or three score of different persons the question, but the majority had not been down on the wharves at that time, and the few who were at work declared that they had not seen her. It seemed impossible to Captain Weaver as well as to Captain Acton, that so beautiful[Pg 195] and well known a lady as Miss Lucy should make her appearance on the wharf at a time of day when scarce more than labourers were about, without being either recognised or seen, and her presence borne witness to by those who did not know who she was.,

"Why, sir," answered the Captain, "it is true that we was chased, but that didn't make us the voyage the young lady's obliging enough to praise us for. Off the Scillies a French frigate hove in sight on the weather bow, but what could she do with us? I eased off and got her abeam, soon afterwards on the quarter; I then luffed, sir, making a tight jam of it, and crossed her bows at the distance of about three mile. She threw a few shot at us, but what's a frigate a-going to do with a[Pg 93] vessel as can look up as the Aurora does, until by thunder the wind seems blowing fore-and-aft?",

"What! Was he throwin' clubs at my coon?" Billy shouted.,

Maurice Keeler, wan, hollow-eyed, and miserable, was seated on a stool just outside the door in the early morning sunlight. Near him sat his mother, peeling potatoes, her portly form obscured by a trailing wistaria vine. What Maurice had endured during his two weeks with the measles nobody knew but himself. His days had been lonely, filled with remorse that he had ever been born to give people trouble and care; his nights longer even than the days. Hideous nightmares had robbed him of slumber. Old Scroggie's ghost had visited him almost nightly. The Twin Oaks robbers, ugly, hairy giants armed with red-hot pitch-forks, had bound him to a tree and applied fire to his feet. What use to struggle or cry aloud for help? Even Billy, his dearest chum, had sat and laughed with all the mouths of his eight heads at his pain. Of course he had awakened to learn these were but dreams; but to a boy dreams are closely akin to reality.

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He found Captain Weaver, the master of the brig, and the captain of the brig in conversation. The skipper of the brig had made no[Pg 363] entry touching his falling in with the Minorca. He could depend upon nothing but his memory, and to the best of his recollection he had given to Captain Weaver the latitude and longitude in which he had spoken the Minorca on the morning before the previous day. It was at least certain that the barque was within easy sailing reach of the schooner; it was equally sure that the schooner was almost directly in the tail of the wake of the Minorca, and that if Captain Weaver continued the course he had been steering he was bound to overhaul her, providing the schooner was the swifter vessel.,

"Are you willing to accept the command of the Minorca?",

Billy shook his head. "I've got a skiff to paint 'fore three o'clock this afternoon," he said, "so I best get busy. Tell Erie not to ferget to blow the fog-horn when the ducks are done.",

Billy nodded. "An' is the schooner still anchored off here?" he asked. "I might take a fish-boat an' row out to her, if she is."