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"Me jug," whispered Harry. "Where is that divil's halter av a jug, Billy?" "You saw it?" Maurice, who could not think of questioning his chum's word, gasped in amazement. He was on deck early in the morning. Daybreak had turned ashen the surface of the sea. The wind was a steady breeze, and the Minorca crowded with every cloth she carried saving her stun-sails, plunged, and pitched, and frothed, and foamed in prodigious fine style as she was swept onwards by the wind that was a point abaft the beam. The sun rose in wet pink splendour on the larboard quarter, and by his light, which threw out the sea-line like the crystal rim of a tumbler against the heavens which were full of travelling clouds, Mr Lawrence swept with his glass the whole brimming circle. There was nothing in sight..
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Mr Lawrence arched his eyebrows. Certainly he did not recognise the sweet and sympathetic Lucy Acton in these questions. A moment later the "swowee" of the cutting wings sounded, close in, and the old gun spoke twice. "My love," said Captain Acton, "will you tell me how it happened that you should have allowed yourself to be lured on board the Minorca?" When she had drunk her full of the fine wide scene of sea and sky and milk-bright schooner in the midst, with never a break the clear horizon round save the Louisa Ann that was fast fading, Lucy went below, followed by her father, who kissed her again and again in a transport of delight at having recovered her, and in being able once more to hold his adored child to his heart, and before she entered her berth to lie down and rest, he said to her: "I am so overjoyed, my darling, in having recovered you that I take no interest in the Minorca. Mr Lawrence may do with her what he pleases—I have you.".
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