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"Dead?" To this Mr. Johnston made no audible reply. He simply nodded, waiting with suspended fork, for his narrator to resume. He unpropped the root-house door and threw it open. Maurice hesitated on the threshold, peering into the darkness..

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It was idle, however, to call it a pursuit. It was a procession with the leader walking fast ahead and the follower lagging. On board the Aurora they saw the brig's round bows bursting the surge into sheets of brilliant whiteness which raced under her row of iron teeth like the foaming cascade of a weir; whilst alongside the keen fore-foot and the clean copper and beautifully moulded run of the Aurora the[Pg 344] brine swept past with no more noise than a shower of rain upon the sea, in a narrow band on either hand which, uniting at the rudder, rushed off in a ribbon of wake that shone like pearl. "Ol' Scroggie left it all to him," said Billy. Billy spit out the fox-tail. "Where's this feller Scroggie now?" he asked, in a business-like tone. "Would not you like to take a trip to the West Indies in your father's ship, Miss?" said the Reverend James Prettyman, who had[Pg 160] been headmaster at a fashionable school for young gentlemen for many years past in a city about twenty miles distant from Old Harbour Town..