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"Yes, sir, and then I saw her and reported her to you.",

"I am glad to know that you return and find your wife and little boy well," said Lucy.,

"The lady thumped and I went to see what was the matter, sir," said Mr Pledge, awed in his old man-o'-war instincts by the over-bearing, I may say, the overwhelming demeanour of Mr Lawrence, which was to his words as the thunder of the explosion is to the message of the firearm.,

"You are placed in the most helpless situation a woman could find herself in: at sea, locked up in a cabin, and all the crew, who might otherwise have helped you, believing that you were running away with Mr Lawrence, and that your imprisonment and your representations and your madness were part of a programme preconcerted between[Pg 411] you and your lover. You realise the horrors and peril of your position, and by virtue of the mother's genius that came to your help, you decided upon a behaviour which you magnificently conducted. So much for the better part of you: but what remains? To be wooed—shall I say won?—it is necessary for your sweetheart to act the part of a scoundrel. He must steal my ship and kidnap my only child, and heap lie upon lie, and then, to be sure, he is a very pretty gentleman, a noble, gallant rogue, at root a man of a lordly soul, of a most chivalrous and fighting spirit to be made much of—in short, to fall desperately in love with."

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"'Cause he—he wants Erie," said the boy, miserably, "an she won't marry him. We've wondered why he's been holdin' the schooner close in. So we been watchin' Hinter. An' one night we follered him down the bar to the pines, an' we seen him signal the schooner. He built a little fire on the shore.,

"Who is in command of this ship?" she enquired in a low, harsh voice, almost a whisper. "Whoever he is," she rattled on, "I am his prisoner. I am being carried away into captivity, I who am a princess, though soon to be clothed in tatters. If you are a man with a heart have mercy upon me, and turn this ship and steer me home!",

Croaker, mincing in and out among the rag-weeds, led straight across the yard to a tiny ramshackle building which at one time might have been a root-house. Billy, feeling that at any moment an icy hand might reach out and grip his windpipe, followed. It was a terrible risk he was running but the prize was worth it. His feet seemed weighted with lead. At last he reached the root-house and leaned against it, dizzy and panting. Then he looked about for Croaker. The crow had vanished!,

He sighed and turned to glance back at the cottage resting in the hardwood grove. It looked very homey, very restful to him, beneath its vines of clustering wild-grape and honeysuckle. It was home—home it must be always. And Mary loved it just as he loved it; this he knew. She was a fine woman, a great helpmate, a wonderful wife and mother. She was fair minded too. She loved Billy quite as much as she loved her own son, Anson. Billy must be more careful, more thoughtful of her comfort. He would have a heart to heart talk with his son, he told himself as he went on to the barn.