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"I don't think so, sir.",
She set the bowls down on the little table beside the bed, placed the lamp beside them, then leaning over tucked the blankets about the boys.,
It was two bells in the afternoon watch—one o'clock—at which hour the frigate and the schooner had closed each other. By this time the ship ahead had been raised to a full sight of her hull. But long before this she had been made out as the Minorca, by that unmistakable signal of her character—the fore-and-aft canvas on her mizzen- and top-masts. The breeze was steady. All three ships heeled to it. The frigate foamed bending under studding sails, the schooner under all the canvas she could set, and the barque leaned under the heavy strain of every cloth she carried.,
"Yes, but if he goes an' tells your Ma, what then?"
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"The Aurora," cried the Admiral with a sudden elation, which might have passed as the flare-up of a man in his cups who has sat for a while in maudlin dejection. "By heavens, Acton, you have hit it! where should I find such a vessel for this purpose? Why, aboard of her in a few days you would be alongside the Minorca, if you are fair in the scent of the trail of her wake, and wanting that, why, your noble and beautiful little clipper will have been at Rio a fortnight before the barque heaves in sight. May I accompany you?—but you must allow me to do so. You must permit me to be your companion, for, by God, Captain Acton, it is for you to recover your daughter and your property, but it is for me to greet that malefactor, my son.",
Billy's gaze followed hers. High above the trees a black speck came speeding toward them, a speck which grew quickly into a bird, a big, black bird, who knew, apparently, just where he was going.,
The sick man sank lower in his chair, his face working, his heart crying the same pleading cry as cried the heart of Rachel of old for her children—a cry understood only by the heart in which it was born—and God.,
Over beside the table, Mrs. Wilson watched him from somber eyes.
"Faith, maybe ye did. But last night it's the skies thimselves said 'rain,' an' begorry! there's been not a sign av a shower t'day. What matters ut fer the fallin' av an idle wurrud now and thin? It's meself knows you're too tinder hearted t' refuse a small favor to a body that feels only love an' respect fer yourself an' the swate ones who wait ye in the flower-covered cottage, beyont."
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He left the table, and turned the key softly in Lucy's door, withdrew it, and went on deck. The breeze that had blown the Minorca out of Old Harbour still sang in her shrouds, but with a fresh and a stronger song. The sea ran in lines of brine which flashed friskily. The mountainous clouds sailed down the blue heavens with the solemn majesty of line-of-battle ships draped in sun-empearled cloth from truck to waterway. The bluff-bowed barque was darting foam from her to right[Pg 268] and left as she thrust through the streaming waters and rolled with dignity, slowly to leeward and yet more slowly to windward as she brought the violet shadowed cavities of her canvas to the wind. The hens were noisy in their coops, and cocks crew. The sound of waters broken and in motion was musical. The shadows of the rigging slided gently to and fro over the wide breadth of white planks. The men in the picturesque garb of the merchant sailor of that day, some of them in striped pantaloons flowing to the shoe, some in short-cut blue jackets, and most of them in round hats, were distributed over several parts of the ship. Mr Eagle walked the weather side of the quarterdeck. In reply to Mr Lawrence's question, he said that nothing had been in sight and nothing was in sight. This Mr Lawrence verified by a searching sweep of his gaze round the horizon, and Mr Eagle went below into the cabin to eat his dinner.
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"Ma's deefness makes her misunderstan' sometimes," Cobin explained in an undertone to the teacher. "But I was jest about to tell you Mr. Stanhope's strange history, sir, an' about ol' Scroggie's will. You sse the Stanhopes was the very first to drop in here an' take up land, father an' son named Frank, who wasn't much more'n a boy, but with a mighty good eddication.
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"Come, nice old Croaker, tell me where you found the gold," coaxed Billy.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>"He surely did not," answered Cobin. "Nobody knows where he went—nor cares. But nobody can do anythin' with that timber without his sayso. It's a year or more since ol' Scroggie died. People do say that his ghost floats about the old cabin, at nights, but of course that can't be, sir."
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