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She stood a few moments with her hands clasped before her at arm's length, and her head bowed as though deep in thought, then went to the tray again, knelt beside it and continued her meal, taking the biscuit and the tongue in her hands without seeming to be in the least conscious of the presence of Mr Lawrence.,

The decks were empty, the men were at dinner. She was a flush deck ship, that is to say, her decks ran fore-and-aft without a break. She was steered by a wheel placed aft, which was unusual. Her deck furniture was simple: she had the necessary companion-way to the cabin, a little caboose or kitchen abaft the foremast, and abaft that again a long boat secured keel up to ring bolts by lashings. She also carried a couple of boats secured under the bulwarks. Her artillery was trifling: four eighteen-pounder carronades, two of a side, the purpose of which it was idle to enquire, because, as she carried but twelve seamen, two boys, a steward, and a cook, she was not likely to make much show of resistance against a pirate with the blood-red flag of "No Quarter" at his mast-head, or any ship[Pg 96] of the enemy which, though but a lugger, would certainly be far more heavily armed and manned than the Minorca.,

"Well, the lightnin' part of this un's about past us, Maurice. But the rain's comin'. Guess that ol' elm's done fer. She's dead, though, else she wouldn't burn like that. By hokey!" he broke off, "will you look here?",

"Well, I did not think of it in that way," said Miss Acton, who was active again with her needle and talking at her work. "Of course we must have captains for our men-of-war. I hope there is no fresh news of invasion."

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"Who knows what lies before us?" said Captain Acton.,

"Reserve what you have to say for my private ear!" exclaimed Captain Acton, with a severe look and in a stern voice. "Where is your Captain?",

Two mornings following the day on which Mr Short had proposed Mr Lawrence's health, old Mr Greyquill rose from his chair at his office table, and said to his clerk in the brown wig, who sat within eyeshot at another table in the adjacent room, that he was going to collect his rents at Greyquill's Buildings, and that he would not be back before half-past[Pg 132] twelve. He never looked so white as he did this morning. His white hair seemed to rest like a cloud upon his head and shoulders. His eyebrows bore so strong a resemblance to white mice that no one could have overlooked the similitude, particularly as each eyebrow flourished over the bridge of the nose a few little dark hairs which resembled tails. His waistcoat was white, not having come from the wash above three days, and his stockings were white.,

Maurice stood up. "Where's Bill now?" he asked.