ut-door amusements. Such was the day Hilda had selected for paying a
visit to the corvette. At an early hour the state barge of Lunnasting
was in attendance at the landing-place, manned by a sturdy crew of eight
of her tenants, whilst Lawrence claimed the privilege of acting as
coxswain--a post for which, from his practical knowledge of seamanship,
he was perfectly well fitted.

The Spanish captain had wished to send a boat from the corvette, but the
offer had been declined, as Hilda knew that it would be considered
undignified unless she went in her own. Besides the crew and Lawrence
Brindister, her only escort consisted of Bertha Eswick, Nanny Clousta,
her own attendant, and her factor, Sandy Redland.

As they got alongside, the crew sprang aloft and manned yards, but
instead of cheering they waved their hats above their heads; a salute
was at the same moment fired from the guns, and the captain himself
descended the side ladder to assist Miss Wardhill on deck. He pressed
her hand as he did so, and the glance she gave him showed the pleasure
she felt in visiting his ocean home. They said but little, for they
already understood each other too well to feel inclined to interchange
many words in public. The first lieutenant, Pedro Alvarez, took charge
of Bertha Eswick, and one of the junior officers devoted himself to
Nanny Clousta, very little caring what was her position in the family.
Lawrence, who had constantly been on board the corvette, seemed on
intimate terms with every one, while Sandy Redland, the factor, stalked
about wondering at the sights he beheld, and not attempting to exchange
words with any one. As soon as the last of the party were out of the
Lunnasting barge, she was sent back to the castle, with directions to
pull off to the ship when a signal should be made; at the same moment
the boatswain's shrill whistle was heard, the topsails were let fall,
the capstan bars were shipped, and the men tramped round to the sound of
fife and fiddle. The wide extending courses next dropped from the
brails, the topgallant sails and royals were set, and the ship under all
her canvas stood out with the wind on her larboard quarter by the
northern passage from Eastling Sound. As she began to move on, Rolf
Morton, who had been on the forecastle superintending getting up the
anchor, came aft to the wheel to direct her course. He bowed distantly
to Hilda, while with affectionate warmth he pressed Bertha Eswick's