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"The Phœbe." Erie Landon faced her father across the breakfast table, dimpled chin cupped in her brown hand. It was early morning; a red sun was just lifting above the Point to wipe away the white mists of the channel and the bay. The American yacht which had put into harbor the night before had cleared and was now but a white speck in the distance. Half an hour later when Mrs. Keeler carrying two bowls of steaming bread and milk ascended the stairs Billy alone sat up to reach for it..
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"The very look of that hole," said the old lady, directing her eyes at the companion-way, "makes me feel as though if I descended I[Pg 98] should suffer all that nearly killed me in my voyage from Dover to Calais." "Only one thing to do," reasoned Billy, "take what we want an' let the rest go." "You will be very clever. I wish I could learn how to effect ends in the same way," were Nelson's closing words, as, saluting the people on the deck of the Aurora once more, he stepped back and disappeared, followed by a storm of cheers from the men of the Aurora, in which the Admiral and Captain Acton heartily joined, whilst Lucy flourished her pocket-handkerchief, though her hero was out of sight. On which Captain Weaver exclaimed: "The Minorca, of course. She was French, and what's called barque-rigged.".
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