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"Oh, is that so? Haven't I heered you an' Cobin Keeler say, time and ag'in, that that's how you both got the smoke-habit? And look at you old chimbneys now; the pipe's never out'a your mouths.",

Billy had to stifle his emotion and swallow twice before he answered: "That's what I'd like you to call me. I'll bet you can't say it, though.",

"There is nothing in sight, sir," he exclaimed, as he stood beside Mr Eagle, who had come to a halt on the approach of the other. "You will please see that a sharp look-out is kept for any sort of sail that may heave into view; and I trust to you to keep a sharp look-out yourself. When fairly clear of the Scillies, I may breathe with some ease.",

Mr Lawrence, with his back turned upon this cabin door, heard Lucy's voice, but not what she said. If Paul answered her his voice was so sunk by the awfulness of her presence, by all that she meant being at sea, by all that she had typified to this forlorn vagrant when on shore, that his accents were inaudible in the cabin.

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"Very true, sister," said Captain Acton, "and I hope we are all grateful; I am sure I am. I was very well pleased with our friend Mr Lawrence last night. I witnessed nothing in him that I could have wished not to see. I do not know that I ever met a more gentlemanlike man. He holds himself very well. He has a fine figure, and I like his type of good looks; it is manly. The face is a little weather-worn perhaps.",

Captain Acton smiled, and looked fondly[Pg 106] at his daughter, and said pleasantly: "And pray, my dear, what are Mr Lawrence's temptations to a voyage to the West Indies?",

"All hunky," Billy whispered back.,

Sir William Lawrence was very grave, his looks were stern, almost fierce, as he entered the boat. Captain Acton was cool and thoughtful. His brow was knitted; his lips were set. His demeanour was that of a self-possessed man confronted by a condition of things rendered complex by features extraneous to the main trouble or difficulty, yet confounding it by their existence. Lucy watched the scene from the after-part of the Aurora's quarterdeck. She stood alone in that part of the ship leaning upon the rail, and once or twice her gaze followed the boat that was bearing her father and the Admiral to the Minorca; but it was chiefly directed at the[Pg 434] barque whose length she explored for a sight of the tall figure whom she had immediately recognised as Mr Lawrence, whilst Sir William was surveying his son through his glass. She mused upon the amazing passage of her life that had filled the interval between the time of her going on board yonder ship, believing her father to be lying dangerously injured in her, down to the hour of her transference to the Whitby brig. Never was her pensive beauty more fascinating than now, whilst her soft dark eyes brooded upon the ship that had been her floating prison. What would Mr Lawrence say or think when he came to understand that her madness was feigned, a dramatic stratagem to obtain liberty and restoration? How would he—but how could he—face his father whom he had degraded, and her father whom he had robbed and wronged?