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He patted the horse's thin neck. "Come, ol' feller, I'll stuff you with good oats fer once," he promised. The breeze blew bright and warm, and sang sweetly aloft. The brilliant horizon ahead slided up and down past the prismatic edges of the clear and shapely sails which yearned in steady breasts from mast-head to jibboom and bowsprit ends; the parted water rolled past in wool-white lines of yeast; the heavens were alive with the clouds of the air. Nothing was in sight but Nelson's Fleet, fading. "I'm Thomas Pledge, acting second mate of this 'ere ship, ma'am.".

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They found him seated on a stool, fondling the big grey-blue cat. He placed the cat gently down as they entered. Some thought whilst eating with his father had occurred to him, and he felt in his pocket for the copy of the letter which he had drawn out with his pocket-handkerchief and which Mr Greyquill had got possession of. The handkerchief was there, but the letter was not. When he had drawn out his handkerchief and felt and found the lining of his pocket bare, when, in short, he completely understood that the letter was not where it ought to be and where he knew it should be, he turned as pale as the muslin curtain that partly veiled his[Pg 151] window, started with an abrupt swagger of motion as though he had been struck violently behind, then with the energy of madness felt in all his pockets, pulling out everything, meanwhile gazing around the room with eyes which seemed on fire with their vigour of scrutiny and passion of fear. "Where did the boy go?" he asked. "He must have been wet to the skin." "If I don't see you ag'in alive, Bill, good bye," whispered Maurice as he opened the door..