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"Exactly. And, Benjamin, kin you imagine the old deacon's face in the mornin' when he sees what we've done?" And the two cronies went off laughing over their prospective raid. "Ma," cried Billy, "whatever is the matter?" "Did you observe Mr Greyquill," continued[Pg 114] the Admiral, "on the wharf behind a little crowd of people viewing the ship under his lifted hand? He was there when you came on deck.".

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"Gee whitticker!" gasped Billy, "you must been havin' an argument with a mule. Who give you that black eye an' split lip, Anse?" 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. "Sure I will," agreed Croaker. He hopped down and started pigeon-toeing across the glade, peering back to see if Billy were coming. It has been said that Old Harbour House stood. The house takes its place as a beauty of the past. On Christmas Eve 1832, fire reduced it to a few blackened walls. All through the long night the flames made a wild, grand show; sea and land were illuminated for leagues and leagues. Out of the ashes of the beautiful building sprang that commonplace phoenix, the local poet, who celebrated the one tradition of Old Harbour Town in a copy of rhymes, of which the first verse should be found imprinted on the title-page of this book..