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"What a lot of ships!" she cried.,

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.,

The cows waded to shore slowly, pausing to brush the troublesome flies from bulging sides with moist noses, halting to drink again and again, loath to leave this great body of cool delicious water. Billy did not hurry them. He thought he understood their feelings in the matter. It would be a long while before they would have a chance to drink again. It must be awful, he reasoned, to have to do without a drink so long. The thought made him thirsty. With his hands he scooped a hole close to the edge of the lake, and slowly the miniature well filled with milky water, which immediately cleared, and lay before him limpid and sweet and fit for king or thirsty boy.,

The approaching terror had drifted into the shadow again. Suddenly, so near that it fairly seemed to scorch the frowsy top of the sapling to which he was hanging, a weird blue light twisted upward almost in Billy's eyes. At the same moment a tiny hoot-owl, sleeping off its early evening's feed in the cedar close beside the boys, woke up and gave a ghostly cry. It was too much for overstrained nerves to stand. Billy felt Fatty's form quiver and leap even before his agonized howl fell on his ears—a cry which he and Maurice may have echoed, for all he knew.

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"Well, Lucy," said Captain Acton, after fetching a deep breath of astonishment, "should I die insolvent, you will know your fortune. You have it in your face: I don't question the rest of your performance. 'Tis the very spirit of her mother, sir. Small wonder that Mr Lawrence was convinced.",

At such times expert indeed must be the hand that guides the frail skiff through those treacherous seas. But the slim punt which rounded Mud Point betwixt the darkness and the dawn, in the teeth of an all night gale, was propelled by one who knew every whimsical mood of Rond Eau. Now high on frothy comber, now lost to view between the waves, the little craft beat onward, a speck of driftwood on the angry waves. Sullen daylight was revealing a world of wind-whipped, spray-drenched desolation when the punt at last rounded the point and swept into the comparative calm of the lee shore. Then the rower shipped his oars and glanced at his companion who sat huddled low in the bow of the boat, the collar of his shooting coat turned high about his ears.,

"Then I do not understand you," said Captain Acton.,

Indeed no piece of English landscape could have looked fairer on this fine April morning than Old Harbour Town and its Harbour, and little forefinger of pier; the windmill and the lighthouse resembled carvings, so delicately were their outlines traced against the silver blueness of the spring sky. In the Harbour against the wharves were visible the mounting masts and yards of several craft with sails hanging loose to dry, and the water of the Harbour was dotted with a few squab shapes of smacks and the figure of a moored brig-of-war.