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"Sit I there, wid God's sunlight caressin' me bare head and his burruds trillin' their joy at me good luck—and dhrink I did. It's a mercy ut was but a small bottle, else I might have taken it back to me cabin to be finished at leisure. Instead, whin ut was all dhrunk up, I found widin me the courage to proceed further into the ha'nted grove. So I goes, an' afore I knew ut, right up to the ha'nted house I was, and inside ut.",

Now, for the swamp-coon, Croaker had all the jealousy and hatred a crow is capable of feeling and as a last resort, whenever he was obdurate and disobedient as he was now, his master could nearly always bring him to submission by the mere mention of Ringdo's name. At Billy's threat Croaker raised his head and poured forth such a jargon of heart-broken lamentation that the listening owls inside crouched low in terror, their amber eyes questioning the meaning of the awful sound.,

"Does the ship call anywhere in England before her final departure for her port?" asked the Admiral in a voice that proclaimed his heart hot with bewilderment, doubt, and anger.,

Down sank a boat from the davits with a lieutenant in the stern sheets, and six sailors to pull her, and in a dozen strokes of the blades feathering in fire to the sunlight and dropping jewels of brilliant dyes ere they were buried for the next foaming impulse, the boat was alongside the schooner. The lieutenant mounted the short length of steps which had been flung over through the open gangway and saluted the little ship as all sea-gentlemen do, or should, when they step aboard a vessel, even though she should be as mean as an Irish hooker.

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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.",

"Two greys and a mallard," Billy answered over his shoulder. "Could'a killed more, but what's the use. They wouldn't keep; weather's too warm.",

Captain Acton waited until this [Pg 366]unconquerable fit of grief should have abated. He then went to his friend's side, and, passing his arm round his neck, said: "My dear old friend, keep up your heart! We will pursue the Minorca and regain her if possible, and depend upon it, your son shall be made to suffer as little as can be helped. Meanwhile, let us wait until we hear Lucy's story.",

"It don't seem right to wake boys up just to give 'em a whalin', Mary," he protested. "My Ma used to wake me up sometimes, but never to whale me. I'd rather remember—"