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"May I have a word with you, sir?" he exclaimed in a coarse, hoarse, broken voice. Captain Acton and the Admiral turned into the Custom House, and the first person they met after leaving it was Josiah Weaver, master of the Aurora, a thick-set man of a dark-red complexion rendered more glowing still by the[Pg 176] sun, greasy deep-red hair, ear-rings, and brown eyes which moved sharply in their sheaths. "I saw her come over the side, sir, but didn't know she had stopped," said the mate, with an expression which might have passed for incredulity in the sour, congenital curl of his lips..
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"You're a pair of plotters," cried Erie, "and being a weak, helpless girl I suppose I'll have to agree with you and submissively roast those birds to suit your taste." "True!" answered Captain Acton. "Fortune certainly favoured Mr Lawrence. And now, Lucy, I want you to explain how it was that neither I, nor the Admiral, nor Captain Weaver, could find a single living creature to tell us that you had been seen passing along the wharves to the Minorca?" Miss Lucy Acton sat with her eyes veiled by downcast lids fixed in a stare as lifeless as the dead upon her hands, which lay clasped in her lap. So motionless was she, you would have said she slept. Much of the lovely bloom that always gave to her lineaments a choice sweetness was absent, but not the less[Pg 281] did as much of her face as was visible express its refined and delicate beauty. "No, sir," answered Captain Acton..
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