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"Any relation, sir, of Lawrence of the Peterel and Curieux affair?" he cried. Nature had crooked a wooded arm about Rond Eau Bay so that her tranquillity seldom was disturbed by the fall gales which piled the waters of Lake Erie high and made her a veritable death-trap for late-sailing ships. To the thunder of heavy waves upon the pine-clad beach the little bay slept sweetly, while half a league beyond the bar a tempest-torn, dismasted schooner might be battered to pieces, or a heavy freighter, her back broken by the twisting seas, might sink to final rest. But there were times when Rond Eau awoke from her dreaming to gnash her white teeth and throw her hissing challenge to man to dare ride her banked-up seas in open boat. At such times only the foolish or venturesome listened. When the gale swept in from the East it transformed the upper waters into a seething cauldron, while, plunging in the nine-mile sweep from the West, it swept water at the foot, frothing and turbulent, across the rushlands. And with that she fell to singing, from which she broke off after a few moments to burst into a shrieking, lunatic laugh..
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A bend of the river's path shut out the view of Old Harbour Town and the Harbour, and just when Mr Greyquill reached this turn, he saw Mr Lawrence coming along the road, having manifestly gained it by a little bridge, some distance beyond which was another way, but rather roundabout, of getting to Old Harbour from Sir William Lawrence's cottage. "That's the boys," Billy told himself. "I've gotta move fast." "There is nothing in sight, sir," he exclaimed, as he stood beside Mr Eagle, who had come to a halt on the approach of the other. "You will please see that a sharp look-out is kept for any sort of sail that may heave into view; and I trust to you to keep a sharp look-out yourself. When fairly clear of the Scillies, I may breathe with some ease." "Bill, our punt's gone!".
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