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"Now let's get while the gettin's good," whispered Billy; and the three crept off into the shadows. "There now!" exulted Anson, glancing triumphantly at his mother, who sat staring and incredulous at the unabashed offender. They went on board the several vessels lying in the harbour, but the answer they received was that of the wharf: Miss Lucy Acton had not been seen, or at all events noticed..
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New to Bruce Bet Casino? We've got a special treat just for you! Take advantage of our exclusive offer:I tried logging in using my phone number and I
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"I quite agree, but it is so unusual for Tupman to be out of bed at this hour that we[Pg 79] cannot but think that something very important and dangerous has called him from his moorings. No, sister, the flat-bottomed boats are not in sight yet, and I suspect we shall have to go on staring for many a week, and many a month, if not for ever, before we sight them coming along in a shoal with the little cocked-hatted usurper, his arms folded upon his breast, watching the van from the hindmost, for he is one of those mighty conquerors who are very careful of their own precious carcasses." It was tough! Billy felt sure that had he been allowed a little more time he might have solved one or more of the problems which weighed him down. He felt like a man who was being cut suddenly off from his usefulness. Saturday he spent roaming the big woods alone. On Saturday evening Maurice came over and the two went down to Levee Creek, set sail in the old punt and steered up-bay towards the light-house. This house contained a room which caused it to be the haunt of the seafaring men of the place. It was in the second story, and was lighted by a large bow-window with a seat[Pg 33] running round it from which a fine view of Old Harbour was to be obtained and the spacious sea beyond. Here on a table in the middle of the room were to be found telescopes, newspapers, not older perhaps than a week, little sheaves of matchwood for lighting pipes at the fire in winter or at a floating oil-mesh in summer. This room always contained one or more seafaring men, and of a night, if there was a tolerable presence of shipping in the Harbour, it was sometimes full, on which occasions it was so heavily loaded with tobacco fumes that one was at some pains to see one's friend through the fog. Here were battles fought over again, and future victories planned and won. Here you heard the argument running high on the usefulness of certain sails in certain weather, on the best course to adopt when taken by the lee, on the wisest thing to do when chased by an enemy's cruiser. Here were told stories of admirals and captains whose names are shining stars in our national story; yarns of Hawke and Howe and Duncan, Rodney, and others. For this room was frequented by several very old men who lived in Old Harbour Town and had served the King; and one of them, like Tom Tough, had been coxswain to Boscawen. Lower Street was not the street in which Lucy shopped. It consisted mainly of little houses with screen doors and bright brass knockers, and lozenged windows which opened and shut in the French style, so that a small piece of the window could be opened at will. These houses were the dwelling-places of pilots, sailors, and fishermen belonging to the district. In the middle of the street was a Nonconformist Chapel with a burial ground spreading out in front of it till its outer confines were half-way upon the footpath; a wonderfully tended resting-place: its billows of grass marked in most cases the silent beds of seafarers; the decoration of flower or[Pg 36] memorial was largely nautical: the anchor, the Liliputian bows of a ship as a headpiece, and here and there the headpiece was a gun. Tombstones whose inscriptions endless discharges of wet and the fretting action of the wind had rendered almost illegible, leaned as though for support in their weariness against the walls of the adjacent houses; so that a few bricks or stones might separate a row of dead men from a little parlour full of cheerful company where the fire crackled briskly, where the oil flame shook in ripples of yellow radiance upon the walls and the ceiling, where the atmosphere was good with the perfume of rum punch, and where a manly voice in an interval of silence might be heard singing a nautical ballad to the accompaniment of a fiddle..
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