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"How standing?" bawled Weaver.,"Ho, the schooner ahoy! where are you from?",The others stood, awed, frightened.,He laughed, "Sphinx and Dexter, you mean? Yes, they are out in the stable with my horse. By the way, they didn't see you last time we were here, and they seemed to feel pretty badly about it. Would you mind stepping outside and speaking a word to them?" he asked. "They are very fond of you, you know.","After a little we saw a light 'way out on the lake. It stayed where it was an by an' by we heard oars. A boat landed an' a man Hinter called Cap'n, came across to where he sat by the fire.","It is wonderful to think," said Miss Acton,[Pg 97] "how far a ship like this will go. I suppose she would go around the world.",He ran out of the cabin. The Admiral pillowed his son's head with his arm, and gazed at the marble-still features. Never could any man appear more stricken, though 'tis hard to tell by posture or by expression of face the depth of human sorrow, the pang of the wound that death alone can heal. His only son—whom he had cursed for his wickedness—whose professional life, extinguished by an act of drunken madness, had swelled the eyes of the father with the unshed tears of the spirit of[Pg 439] a man—lying dead or dying on his arm—self-slain!,Captain Acton's face as he emerged was grave and pale. His restlessness and anxiety had increased with the voyage and the obstruction of the wind. Realisation of the loss of his daughter was a pain in him that was as a wound deeply planted, and there was no remedy but the recovery of the girl. He joined the Admiral after looking aloft and around him, and exclaimed: "Very slow work, sir. If it's to be this sort of thing the Minorca will not find us at Rio; and if she fetches Rio before we do, my child is lost to me.",Mr Greyquill stood up. His eyes had a peculiar light in them, a faint flush was painted on each cheek, and seemed to make whiter yet the whiteness of his brows and his hair.,Billy shook his head. "I've got a skiff to paint 'fore three o'clock this afternoon," he said, "so I best get busy. Tell Erie not to ferget to blow the fog-horn when the ducks are done.",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.,"An' what's that?" asked Anse, apprehensively..