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"You may trust me," said Mr Lawrence, making Sir William so low a bow that it might have been thought that they were strangers, and had met on an affair of ceremony. "Very much indeed, madam. My inclination leans wholly towards the Merchant Service.[Pg 67] I would rather command the Minorca than a line-of-battle ship." "I have given Mr Lawrence the command of my ship, sister," said Captain Acton..

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"I think not. I am sure not. Mr[Pg 376] Lawrence awed them all. I could never have believed in such a commanding, overwhelming manner as he put on." Each spring the farmers attended the fishermen's annual bee of pile-driving, which meant the placing of the stakes for the pound nets—a dangerous and thankless task. Wet, weary and hungry, they would return to their homes at night with considerable more faith in the reward that comes of helping one's fellow-men than in the promise of the fishermen to keep them supplied, gratis, with all the fresh fish they needed during the season. "Pray, what is your ship, sir?" asked Captain Acton. It was two bells in the afternoon watch—one o'clock—at which hour the frigate and the schooner had closed each other. By this time the ship ahead had been raised to a full sight of her hull. But long before this she had been made out as the Minorca, by that unmistakable signal of her character—the fore-and-aft canvas on her mizzen- and top-masts. The breeze was steady. All three ships heeled to it. The frigate foamed bending under studding sails, the schooner under all the canvas she could set, and the barque leaned under the heavy strain of every cloth she carried..