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"It grabbed me in its bony fingers," whispered Fatty. "Gosh, it tore the sleeve fair out'a my shirt. Look!" And to prove the truth of his statement he lifted a fat arm to which adhered a tattered sleeve.,

Captain Acton listened to her with profound interest. He was greatly impressed and moved by his daughter's exhibition of traditionary genius. She recalled his wife, of whom he was passionately proud and fond. He had never imagined that Lucy had the[Pg 372] talent of an actress, but the dramatic character of her narrative and every point in her extraordinary relation convinced him that she was a born artist, and that accident had compelled her to reveal to herself gifts of power, perception, and imagination of whose existence she had been as ignorant as her father.,

"Well, that's my place," answered Stanhope. "How am I navigating, Billy?",

"By Jimminy, you've fooled me so many times, Billy, I have an idea you might jest do it ag'in." Mr. Keeler's grip tightened, and his smile broadened. "Cross your heart, it's right?"

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He pointed a shaking finger at Croaker. "See that shiny thing that old rogue has in his bill, Lou!" he asked. "What do you 'spose that is?",

"Why?" asked Mrs. Wilson, in surprise.,

"How I am always being disappointed!" he exclaimed, and she might by the note in his voice, by a smile which did not show perfect self-control, and by a heated colour of complexion, have by this time suspected that this gentleman and his companion, who was Lieutenant Tupman, had not looked in at "The Swan" Inn only to find out what o'clock it was.,

It would be impossible to describe the feelings, sensations, passions of three of the principal actors in this story. Who can analyse human emotion when its state is one of almost chaotic conflict? Sir William Lawrence being satisfied that the sail ahead was Captain Acton's barque, fixed his face in a mask iron-hard with resolution to endure, come what would. His answers were short, and to the[Pg 429] point. He had little to say. His tendency to the garrulity of old age had temporarily withered; he was as grim and reserved as though he commanded a line-of-battle ship, whose stern-walk was exclusively his promenade. He was an old sailor and a gentleman: he prided himself upon his descent; he greatly loved honour and loyalty, which is the spirit of honour, and above all, he loved truth. Yonder was his son in charge of a ship he was endeavouring to steal from his benefactor; he had by a base stratagem kidnapped the sweet and beautiful daughter of his friend; he had proved himself a liar, a thief, a scoundrel in the most voluminous sense of the word. The people of the frigate commanded by Lord Garlies might, doubtless must, come to hear all about his wrongdoing, and through them the story would leak with plenty of colour and plenty of exaggeration, into every ward-room and gun-room and cockpit in His Majesty's Service. These were thoughts and considerations to hold the Admiral austerely silent, and keep him to himself whilst the chase continued.