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"We must take our chance," said Captain Acton to Weaver, "and end our doubts in the only possible way. See that our ensign blows clear for the eyes aboard of her." The deacon had pulled up at the Wilson's gate. "He's shoutin' fer Pa," Billy whispered, as a resounding "Hello, Tom!" awoke the forest echoes. "Come on Maurice, let's work our way down along this strip o' bushes, so's we kin hear what's goin' on." It might be thought that the first person[Pg 420] in the group this gentleman's eyes fastened upon was Lucy. She would be held to appeal in her sweetness, colour, freshness, and youth to a sailor as a nosegay of lovely flowers to a lover of flowers who for months has lived forlorn in a desert of sand. But instead of looking at Lucy, the lieutenant stared at the Admiral with a very great deal of visible speculation in the screwed-up cock of his eye, till his face relaxed with these words: "Pray, sir, did you ever hear of Billy Lawrence?".
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His mother gasped. Whatever was coming over the boy, she wondered. Never before had she been able to get a dose of medicine down him without a struggle. There could be only one answer. He was sick—sicker than he let on. "Billy!" he cried, "why didn't you shoot?" "Bill," Anson's voice was husky with terror. "You won't let him touch me, will you, Bill?" "I have no piano in this cabin, sir," she answered, without raising her eyes. "And I have no heart to sing without music.".
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