ard a collier who had not
yet left the ship give him some impudence, and look jauntily to the men
for approval; but the smile was not off his cheeks when the new mate
hit him such a terrific blow on the head with a spy-glass he held that
the fellow reeled through the open bulwarks right into his barge, which
lay along-side.

"That's to set your face straight," cried the mate after him; "next
time you laugh aboard here I'll balance you on the other side."

The men were hushed before a display of temper like this; the skipper
on the bridge flushed red with disapproval, but said nothing.

The order "Hands, heave anchor!" was sung out a moment after as
Roderick joined me aft, the new _Celsis_ steamed away from Plymouth,
and the episode was forgotten.

For truly, as we lost sight of the town and the beautiful yacht moved
slowly upon the broader bosom of the Channel, thoughts of great moment
held us; and I, for my part, fell to wondering if I should ever see the
face of my country again.

And in that hour the great pursuit began.

CHAPTER VIII.

I DREAM OF PAOLO.

We had left the Scilly Light two days; the _Celsis_ steamed steadily on
the great broad of the Atlantic. Night had fallen, and Mary had gone
below, leaving me with Roderick upon the aft-deck, watching the veriest
rim of a moon which gave no pretence of a picture, no ornament to the
deck.

It was Paolo's watch; and the skipper had turned in, so that, save for
the occasional ringing of a bell, or a call from the look-out, no sound
but the whirring of the screw and the surge of the swell fell upon our
ear. A night for dreamy thoughts of home, of kinsfolk, of the more
tender things of life; but for us a night for the talk of that great
"might be" which was then so powerful a source of speculation for both
of us. And we were eager to talk, eager then as ever since the
beginning of it all; eager, above all things for the moment, to know
when we should next hear of Captain Black or of the nameless ship.

"I shouldn't wonder," said Roderick, after twenty surmises of the sort,
"if we heard something of her as we cross. I have given York orders to
keep well in the track of steamers; and if your friend Hall be right,
that is just where the unknown ship will keep. I would give a thousand
pounds to know the story of the man Black. What can he be? Is he mad?
Is it possible that a man could commit piracy, to-day, in the Atlantic,
where is the traffic of the wo