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Watland came puffing up, his round face red and perspiring. "Gee!" he panted, "I've been all the way to the store. Had to get some sulphur fer Ma. She found a wood-tick that old Sport scratched off him on the floor, an' she swears it's a bed-bug; an' now she's goin' to burn this sulphur in all the rooms." "Oh, certainly not, and as a consequence the Aurora sails two feet to the Minorca's one. That schooner is almost due. She is commonly very punctual. She earns more money than the Minorca. No doubt all will have been well with her until she enters the Chops. But the Western squadrons have done great work. They have swept the French corsairs off the narrow waters and huddled the lily-livered rogues into their own ports. The Minorca is lightly armed: four eighteen-pounder carronades, for her business is to run and not to chase. You'll have to keep a bright look-out, sir. Your business must be to give your heels to everything that stirs your suspicion." "Don't need to take mine," Billy informed him. "What's the use of me takin' any; ain't one bad cough enough?".

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Wilson stepped out into the spicy summer darkness and went slowly down the path to the barn. As far as eye could reach, through the partially cleared forest, tiny clearing fires glowed up through the darkness, seeming to vie with big low hanging stars. The pungent smoke of burning log and sward mingled pleasantly with the scent of fern and wild blossoms. Wilson whistled. "What in the world does he want with that swamp, I wonder?" he cried. "Then I'll be tellin' ye where I do be gettin' the whisky, Billy; where else but in the ha'nted house." He smote his thigh hard with the palm of his hand. The noise was like the report[Pg 221] of a pistol. He was wont to strike himself thus in the days of his command when angered, or when he expressed a purpose, which he intended to fulfil though it meant life or death..