s then
that Dalton questioned him, and discovered the artifice and cruelty of
the treacherous Burrell, in abandoning the poor preacher to starvation:
a consequence that must have occurred, had not the Skipper
providentially stood in need of some articles of bedding, that were kept
in this chamber, as matters rarely needed by his crew.

Fleetword, having explained what he had done with the required papers,
would have willingly departed, but Dalton detained him, frankly saying,
that he cared not, just then, to trust any one abroad, who had seen so
much of the mysteries of his singular palace. Without further ceremony,
he was again confined, in a small cupboard-like cavity, close to the
hostelry of the Gull's Nest.

It was not long after the preacher's second imprisonment, that Robin
Hays might have been seen, treading the outward mazes of the cliff, and,
without pausing at his mother's dwelling, approaching the spot where, on
a former occasion, Burrell had received the signal for entrance from
Hugh Dalton. He was ignorant of his mother's illness; but the
information that Jack Roupall unwittingly communicated was not lost upon
him; and he had earnestly scanned the waters, to see if the Fire-fly
were off the coast. Though the gallant sparkling ship hardly hoisted the
same colours twice in the same week, and though she had as many false
figure-heads as there are days in January, yet Robin thought he never
could be deceived in her appearance, and he saw at once, that though
there were many ships in the offing, she certainly was not within sight
of land. The feeling that he should look on Barbara no more was another
source of agony to the unhappy Ranger. Yet he could hardly believe that
the Buccaneer would so soon part with the beautiful form of a child he
so dearly loved. He struck his own peculiar signal against the rock, and
it was quickly answered by the Skipper himself, who extended his hand
towards his friend with every demonstration of joy. Robin started at
seeing the Buccaneer in so cheerful a mood, and was endeavouring to
speak, when the other prevented his words from coming forth, by placing
his hand on his lips. The Ranger's head grew dizzy--his knees smote
against each other, and he gazed on Dalton's countenance, eager to
ascertain if there was a possibility of hope, or if excess of grief had
deranged his intellect.

"Silence! silence! silence!" repeated the Buccaneer, in the subdued
voice of a puny girl; and Ro