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As the carriage went down a lane into the main road, it overtook Sir William Lawrence, who was stoutly trudging along in the [Pg 86]direction of Old Harbour, striking the ground as he went with a staff with the regularity of the pounding of a wooden leg whose owner marches steadily. "We'll soon have her back again to her old moorings," cried the Admiral. "She cannot gain in beauty, but the schooner will give her the colour she lacks." Suddenly his fears vanished. Croaker's voice, high-pitched and jubilant, had summoned him from somewhere on the other side of the building. As quickly as the weeds and his lagging feet would permit Billy joined him. Croaker was standing erect on a pile of old bottles, basking in the radiance of the colored lights which the sun drew from them. Undoubtedly in his black heart he felt that his master would glory in this glittering pile even as he gloried in it; for was there not in this heap of dazzling old bottles light enough to make the whole world glad?.
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"She has ripped up her mattress and is throwing the inside of it round about her!" Mr Lawrence frowned, pursed his lip, and[Pg 297] stared upon the deck with a strange admixture of gloom and anger. "How greatly Mr Lawrence has improved, not indeed in manners, for he was always a very fine gentleman, a very pretty gentleman, but in appearance, since you gave him the command of the Minorca, Captain Acton." "And you, too," he whispered. "With all this, I have you, too." "Yes," agreed Wilson, "I guess maybe he is. But, Deacon, I don't know what their game is; wish I did.".
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