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"Miss Lucy Acton aboard this ship!" cried the mate, giving way to his amazement. "Well, I am truly astonished." "What's this going to be?" exclaimed the Admiral to Captain Weaver. "Well?" His mother's voice dispelled the vision. "Are you goin' to answer me, Willium?".

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"What luck, sonny?" called the man, Tom, as he passed. Sail was at once shortened aboard the schooner and the helm put down, which held the canvas shuddering in smart ripplings of shadow, whilst on board the frigate the lower stun-sail was taken in, the other stun-sails boom-ended, the main topsail yard backed to the wind and the ship's way arrested, all with the alacrity and quietude which are to be found only in a British man-of-war in perfection. "Willium, are you lyin' to me? If you are it's goin' to be the costliest lie you ever told." "Little enough before me, sir," exclaimed Sir William. "Sailors dream of a cottage ashore, but when they come to it—I like my little perch: 'tis not Old Harbour House," says he, casting his eye over the building, "but I could wish the sea were within range of its windows. I was down in the Harbour yesterday admiring the lines of your Minorca. She lay upright on the mud, awash to her garboard strake about, and I liked her lines in the run, and believed I could see a hint to our shipwrights in the cleanness and beauty of her entry.".