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"All the same we must mind our eye," said Captain Acton. "Shorten sail, Captain Weaver! But furl nothing! And stand by to get away close hauled on the larboard tack before we're within gunshot." "Wonderfully dyed fish——" said Lucy. "Well?" she said ominously, "I s'pose you think you've played a smart trick, you young limb!".
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Conrad
"Have you news of her?" cried Miss Acton. "I can't, ma'am, it's locked," and in proof of his assurance, Pledge turned the handle and shook the door. Mr Short occupied the head of the table, and the oldest frequenter who happened to be present the foot. Mr Short took his seat when Mr Lawrence sat down, and all the people who had come to eat were then assembled. In a picture they would figure as a homely old English lot: men in bottle-green coats, in red coats, in purple waistcoats, in plain pilot cloth, here and there a dandy built up in the latest style, here and there an old fogey who stuck to the fashion of the last[Pg 126] century and figured in a little tye wig, a frill very fit for the harbouring of snuff, a cut-away coat with immense pockets, such as Boswell might have been found drunk in, in Edinburgh, and shoes with buckles. "The French Flotilla!" exclaimed Miss Acton. "In sight, do you say?".
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