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"At what hour?",The Admiral, Mr Fellowes, and the surgeon had come on board when the litter was being lowered, and stood in momentary pause beside it, whilst men were summoned to convey the wounded man to his father's cabin. Lucy swept round to the Admiral, and with her hands still clasped, cried to him softly: "Oh, Sir William, it is your son—I could not imagine—is he dying—will he die?",Billy grew thoughtful. "I hadn't thought o' that," he said slowly. "It's pine, too, ain't it? It 'ud carve fine.","But, Mary, there's a doctor at Bridgetown now and—",Mr Lawrence led the way below.,"I should be much obliged for a cask of beef, sir," he said, after touching the narrow penthouse of a queerly constructed fur cap. "It's still a long way home for that there Louisa Ann, whose bin a hundred and seventy days in bringing us so fur.","Come out into the light and let me see where you hurt yourself," she said, oh so gently.,"Jest couldn't he? I'll take you down to the marsh some day an' show you how quick he kin kill a womper.",No sooner had Billy gone, leaving Maddoc alone with Hinter, than the lawyer's manner underwent a lightning change. His big face lost its jovial look and the bushy eyebrows contracted to sinister juts on his puckered brow, as the cold eyes beneath them probed the man before him.,But congratulations were not in place in such a moment as this. A fine boat of the Aurora was alongside manned by five sailors, who being clad in much the same sort of[Pg 356] apparel, carried a sort of warlike aspect as though the boat was proceeding from something heavily armed and much to be feared. Captain Acton and the Admiral sprang into her with the agility of boys, thanks to the energy infused by the apparition of Lucy waving her pocket-handkerchief, and whilst they were being swept to the brig Captain Weaver asked her master one or two questions.,So here lay the reason that the swamp-waters never froze even when winter locked all other waters fast in its icy clutch! What caused those air bubbles, if air bubbles they were?,"Well, hang to 'em tight till we get away from this ha'nted grove. Ghosts don't mind rain none—an' he's liable t' be prowlin' out. Say, can't y' whistle a bit, so's it won't be so pesky lonesome?".