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"He is remaining on board the Minorca to see after affairs there, madam," answered the Admiral. "I believe Captain Weaver is to take charge of the barque, and Captain Acton will himself sail the schooner home." "I will not, madam, and I trust that the application of it may make him a little better humoured." 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..
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"No," Hinter answered. "She didn't anchor off here; water's too shallow. She anchored off Gibson's Grove, five miles up the point. She's on her way back to Cleveland by now." With kindly pressure he obliged the old seaman to resume his seat, and then turned with something of fierceness upon old Greyquill. "Certainly," was the answer. Lou knit her brows in thought. "No," she disagreed, "if you had been that frightened you would not have come to the grove at all.".
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