"What does Nolan intend to do with me?" asked Darling.

"Well, sir, it looks to me as how he bes figgerin' to keep ye in Chance
Along till June. He bes t'inkin' as how the young lady may blow 'round
to his own idee," replied Bill.

"And what is his idea?"

"As how he bes a better man nor ye be."

"But why does he figure to keep me until June? Why not until July, or
August--or next Christmas?"

"Well, sir, ye see it bes this way wid him. Father McQueen, the dear,
riverent gentleman--an' may he never die till I kills him, an' may every
blessed hair on his head turn into a wax candle to light him to
glory!--bes comin' back to Chance Along in June. The skipper bain't
afeared o' any man in the world but his riverence."

John Darling smiled. "I should like to see Father McQueen," he said;
"but I am afraid I must be going away from here considerably before the
first of June."

Bill wagged his head. "Now don't ye be too sure, sir," he whispered. "Ye
bain't dealin' wid any ignorant fisherman when ye bes dealin' wid Black
Dennis Nolan. Sure, didn't he find yer bully this very mornin'!"

"My bully!" exclaimed the other, losing color. "Where did he find it?"

"Driftin' in the harbor," returned Bill. "It bes a grand bully entirely,
sir."

Darling was silent for a moment. Then, trying to look as if the finding
of the bully drifting in the harbor was rather a joke, he laughed.

"And did he capture my crew of five strong men?" he asked.

Bill Brennen grinned. "Now ye needn't be tryin' any o' yer divilment on
me," he said. "The bully was as empty as Tim Sullivan's
brain-locker--an' the holy saints knows as that bes empty enough! Sure,
there wasn't even a sail aboard her, nor a bite o' grub nor a drop o'
liquor."

"My five men must have fallen overboard," said Darling, smiling. Poor
John! Now, should he manage to escape and get Flora out of the skipper's
house, how was he to get out of the harbor? What had happened to George
Wick? The tide must have carried the bully out of the drook, while
George was asleep, and drifted it around to the harbor. He promised
himself the pleasure of teaching Master George the art of mooring a boat
if he ever met him again.

John Darling spent an anxious day. Shortly after midnight he was
startled by a faint tapping on one of the windows. The night was pitch
black, and so he could see nothing. The tapping was repeated. He rolled
out of his blanket and across the floor toward the sound. His