e door open, to prevent Lucy being starved.

There sat Ayacanora, her finery half torn off, and scattered about the
floor in spite, crying still as if her heart would break; while poor
Lucy cried too, half from fright and hunger, and half for company.

Amyas tried to comfort the poor child, assured her that the men should
never laugh at her again; "But then," added he, "you must not be
so--so--" What to say he hardly knew.

"So what?" asked she, crying more bitterly than ever.

"So like a wild girl, Ayacanora."

Her hands dropped on her knees: a strong spasm ran through her
throat and bosom, and she fell on her knees before him, and looked up
imploringly in his face.

"Yes; wild girl--poor, bad wild girl. . . . But I will be English girl
now!"

"Fine clothes will never make you English, my child," said Amyas.

"No! not English clothes--English heart! Good heart, like yours! Yes, I
will be good, and Sir John shall teach me!"

"There's my good maid," said Amyas. "Sir John shall begin and teach you
to-morrow."

"No! Now! now! Ayacanora cannot wait. She will drown herself if she is
bad another day! Come, now!"

And she made him fetch Brimblecombe, heard the honest fellow patiently
for an hour or more, and told Lucy that very night all that he had said.
And from that day, whenever Jack went in to read and pray with the
poor sufferer, Ayacanora, instead of escaping on deck as before, stood
patiently trying to make it all out, and knelt when he knelt, and tried
to pray too--that she might have an English heart; and doubtless her
prayers, dumb as they were, were not unheard.

So went on a few days more, hopefully enough, without any outbreak, till
one morning, just after they had passed the Sargasso-beds. The ship
was taking care of herself; the men were all on deck under the awning,
tinkering, and cobbling, and chatting; Brimblecombe was catechising his
fair pupil in the cabin; Amyas and Cary, cigar in mouth, were chatting
about all heaven and earth, and, above all, of the best way of getting
up a fresh adventure against the Spaniards as soon as they returned;
while Amyas was pouring out to Will that dark hatred of the whole
nation, that dark purpose of revenge for his brother and for Rose, which
had settled down like a murky cloud into every cranny of his heart and
mind. Suddenly there was a noise below; a scuffle and a shout,
which made them both leap to their feet; and up on deck rushed Jack
Brimblecombe, hol