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"I cannot imagine why the steward of the ship came to be employed, as Mr Adams tells us—an assertion you justify by saying that you saw this man in the cabin of the vessel—unless Mr Lawrence sent the letter.","Looks like a good feedin' place, Moll," he addressed the spaniel as he paddled slowly across to the far shore of the slough. "Good grass here fer hidin', too; but not much chance of findin' a down bird without a good dog, an' I've got her—eh girlie?",Billy took his eyes from the pair of dead ducks, floating shoreward and turned wonderingly to his companion.,"Yes. Very characteristic. I rank Pellew after Nelson.","I durs'nt," whined Paul. "I've the Captain's orders to keep my mouth shut," and he hastened up the steps.,"Now teacher," he said, dropping into a seat by the fire, "give us the news.",The larger of the two men grunted a surly response and with much pushing and swearing they began to laboriously back out of the blind channel. Billy and Moll watched them, the dog growling her antagonism of the interlopers. As the skiff passed his bow Billy noted that the guns lying across the seat were both of the new breech-loading pattern.,"That is so," said Captain Acton, viewing him gravely.,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?,"And what is that conviction, madam?" asked Sir William, from whose jolly round face fatigue had robbed much of its warm colour.,Her only reply to his speech was (as though she had not attended to his meaning), "Are you going to keep me a prisoner in this cabin?","An' when'll that be, Harry?".