One bright morning in April in that memorable year 1805, Captain Charles Acton, R.N. (retired), stood on his lawn in front of the house watching a gardener who was at work at a flower-bed. He was a slightly-built but tall, very gentleman-like man, one of the last in a crowd to be picked out as a seafarer. He was pale, his nose aquiline, lips thin, and the expression of the mouth firm. He was dressed in a frill shirt, loose cravat of white cambric, red-striped waistcoat, long green coat with a high collar and small cuffs, tight breeches to the ankle buttoned to the middle of the thigh, and top-boots; a rather low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat sat somewhat cocked on his head. His hair was long, without powder, and tied a little way down the back in a sort of tail.,
"But I am going to marry Frank, Daddy," the girl would say softly.,
"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.,
He sat down upon his chest, folded his arms and sank into thought. Had he needed a motto for his reflections he might have found one in the Duke of Gloster's speech:
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"No, nor can I get to hear of her," answered Miss Acton, whose voice trembled with tears and terror. "Wasn't she down on the wharves?",
"And fer God's sake, why?" gasped the frightened O'Dule.,
"You may trust me," said Mr Lawrence, making Sir William so low a bow that it might have been thought that they were strangers, and had met on an affair of ceremony.,
And thus speaking she turned to the bulkhead, and putting her arm against it buried her face in her sleeve, and fell to sobbing so piteously that you would have thought her poor little heart was broken.
He sighed and turned to glance back at the cottage resting in the hardwood grove. It looked very homey, very restful to him, beneath its vines of clustering wild-grape and honeysuckle. It was home—home it must be always. And Mary loved it just as he loved it; this he knew. She was a fine woman, a great helpmate, a wonderful wife and mother. She was fair minded too. She loved Billy quite as much as she loved her own son, Anson. Billy must be more careful, more thoughtful of her comfort. He would have a heart to heart talk with his son, he told himself as he went on to the barn.
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Harry bent and peered beneath the stove. "Be the scales av the divil!" he shivered, "is ut a big, mottled snake I see, or have I got what always I feared I might get some day. Is ut the D.T.'s I've got, I wonder? How come the reptile here, anyhow, byes?"
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A very short silence followed Mr Lawrence's delivery. Mr John Eagle then said: "You'll find, sir, that when the crew comes to larn that this voyage ain't bein' made to Kingston, Jamaica, but to another place, they'll tarn to and refuse to work the ship, as their agreement was for Kingston and nowhere else."
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He formed his resolution, and stepping to the door, knocked. He received no answer, whereupon he entered.
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>"Nope." Billy shipped his paddle and picked up his oars. Somehow he felt safer then. He believed that men like those behind were capable of almost any crime. What if they should make up their minds to have his ducks anyway? Well, they couldn't catch him now. There were two of them in a heavy skiff and he was alone in his light punt, so let them try it if they wanted to. But whatever might have been their thought, it was clear they knew better than pursue that swiftly moving boat. Quickly they fell behind him and were swallowed up in the deepening shadows.
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