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Sir William again asked Captain Acton if he had heard the news. "He'll be along soon. Here he comes now; no 'taint neither, it's Fatty Watland. Wonder where he's been up that way?" "The Phœbe.".

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They met Lieutenant Tupman of the Saucy brig-of-war, a large, fat, purple, smiling man, with the word grog written in small red veins over his nose and parts of his cheeks: obviously a good-natured, drunken fellow who would fight, no doubt, if a Frenchman opposed him, but who preferred his bed and "The Swan" to frequent sentinel cruisings in his little ship of war. Both gentlemen knew him slightly. They ventured on this occasion to stop and accost him. They asked him if it was true that news of a French cruiser being off the coast had come to hand, and he answered that he had not heard of such a ship being near the coast. She caught her breath quickly and a flush stole up beneath the sun and wind stain on her cheeks. There was that in the pressure of the hand on hers, strong yet tender, which swept the feeling of loneliness from her heart. Captain Acton was silent for a few moments. He then said: "My dear friend, have you reflected upon all that your son's return to England must signify to him?" "Bah! mommie's baby boy won't fight?" taunted the eager one. "But by gollies! I'm goin' to make you," he added, scowling fiercely..