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"Suppose," said Miss Acton, "that a French man-o'-war should capture you, and make you prisoners, what is to become of Lucy?,

"Trust to me, madam," said Mr Lawrence, and taking the old lady by the hand he marched her on to the planks, and they went in safety over the side into the ship. The Admiral and Lucy followed.,

He looked at his own legs. Time had somewhat shrunk them.,

"Well," laughed Wilson, "if anybody kin make Joe toe the scratch it's you, Deacon. Didn't see anythin' of Hinter on your rounds, did you?"

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"Yes, Ma'am; I mean jest that. You see, Ma, that ol' horse don't belong to Teacher Johnston any more. We bought him.",

The Aurora and the line-of-battle ship sailed so close that it needed a special vigilance on the part of Captain Weaver to preserve his schooner's spars from the yard-arms of the towering vessel within a biscuit toss. Much exertion of voice was therefore not necessary for conversation, and though Nelson occupied a platform high above the low deck of his schooner, his features were perfectly visible, and his voice fell as clear as though he stood beside those he addressed.,

But here he found another little hope; some squalls of wet, one very heavy, had set the kennels running shortly after he had met Mr Greyquill, and if that letter had lain exposed to those three or four deluges, it not only stood to be changed into a mere rag to the eye which none would dream of even glancing at, but the writing must have been washed out to a degree to render the sense of the letter unintelligible. He considered that it was not above two or three hours when that letter was in his pocket, and that it must have fallen somewhere betwixt his father's house and the Minorca in that time, for he had taken the same road to and fro. He reflected that that road was but little used compared with the lane that led to the bridge where the Actons' carriage had stopped. Understanding as a sailor the preciousness of time, and conceiving that if the letter had by some strange mischance fallen during his walk unobserved by him it might still rest in the spot where it had dropped, insomuch that chance—for the fellow was a gambler at heart—might concede him yet an hour, even two hours, in which to find it, he put on his hat and marched out of[Pg 153] the house, just saying to his father in the window that he had an appointment and should miss it if he didn't hasten, and then stepped out, casting as he went to right and left of his path eyes as piercingly scrutinising as those which the madman darts when he seeks for the philosopher's stone.,

"I'd call it bein' kind to dumb animals," spoke up Wilson, his eyes meeting the angry ones of his wife.