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This house contained a room which caused it to be the haunt of the seafaring men of the place. It was in the second story, and was lighted by a large bow-window with a seat[Pg 33] running round it from which a fine view of Old Harbour was to be obtained and the spacious sea beyond. Here on a table in the middle of the room were to be found telescopes, newspapers, not older perhaps than a week, little sheaves of matchwood for lighting pipes at the fire in winter or at a floating oil-mesh in summer. This room always contained one or more seafaring men, and of a night, if there was a tolerable presence of shipping in the Harbour, it was sometimes full, on which occasions it was so heavily loaded with tobacco fumes that one was at some pains to see one's friend through the fog. Here were battles fought over again, and future victories planned and won. Here you heard the argument running high on the usefulness of certain sails in certain weather, on the best course to adopt when taken by the lee, on the wisest thing to do when chased by an enemy's cruiser. Here were told stories of admirals and captains whose names are shining stars in our national story; yarns of Hawke and Howe and Duncan, Rodney, and others. For this room was frequented by several very old men who lived in Old Harbour Town and had served the King; and one of them, like Tom Tough, had been coxswain to Boscawen.,

Billy turned and came back slowly to where he sat. "Anse," he said. "I ain't wantin' to see you witch-chased, so I'll jest give you the tie an' collar an' say not a word to Croaker er Ringdo; an' if you'll tell me somethin' I want'a know I'll let you sleep with my rabbit-foot charm underneath your piller.",

Mr Lawrence having meditated awhile, rose from his chest, unclasped his arms, and whistling softly the familiar air of "Wapping Old Stairs," quitted his naked, forlorn, inhospitable berth.,

"So do I, sir," said Sir William.

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"Did she look at you when you entered?",

She delivered the same wild, screaming laugh which had before filled the cabin with its insane music, and said, dropping her note into one of plaintiveness, whilst she extended her skirt with both hands as though she was about to make a step or two in a dance: "Think of poor Lucy Acton in rags! Think of the lady who was notable, before a liar and a rogue stole her from her father, for her fine dresses and modish hats and bonnets; oh, think of her"—she paused to sigh deeply—"in rags, a prisoner in a ship owned by her father, who would kill the wretch that tore her from his side!",

"You are not likely to go mad," he said, smiling at her, and his handsome face with that smile lighting it up might have helped to conquer any woman, though betrayed into the imprisonment of a ship's cabin, and sailed away with into unknown regions, who in her heart of hearts felt towards this man as Lucy Acton did. But not in the way that Mr Lawrence had devised was the victory to be his.,

Here he paused and his searching eyes sought the lower sweep of woodland. A clump of tall poplars gleamed silvery-white against the dark green of the beeches; far down at the end of the sweep the yellow tops of hardy willows stood silhouetted against the undying green of massed cedars and pines. Billy gazed down upon it all and his heart swelled with the deep joy of life, his nerves tingled to the tang of the woodland scents. Something deep, stirring, mysterious, had come to him. He did not know what that something was—it was too vague and incomprehensible for definition just yet.