h of my darling, whose lightest
call would reach my ear, or least movement take my eye. The stars were
dim away over the port quarter, and I could distinguish the outlines of
clouds hanging in dusky, vaporous bodies over the black mass of the
coast dotted with lights where Boulogne lay, with the Cape Gris Nez
lantern windily flashing on high from its shoulder of land that blended
in a dye of ink with the gloom of the horizon. There were little runs
of froth in the ripples of the water, with now and again a phosphoric
glancing that instinctively sent the eye to the dimness in the western
circle as though it were sheet lightning there which was being
reflected. Broad abeam was a large, gloomy collier "reaching" in for
Boulogne harbour: she showed a gaunt, ribbed, and heeling figure, with
her yards almost fore and aft, and not a hint of life aboard her in the
form of light or noise.

I felt sleepless--never so broad awake, despite this business now in
hand that had robbed me for days past of hour after hour of slumber, so
that I may safely say I had scarcely enjoyed six hours of solid sleep
in as many days. Caudel still grasped the tiller, and forward was one
of the men restlessly but noiselessly pacing the little forecastle.
The bleak hiss of the froth at the yacht's forefoot threw a shrewd
bleakness into the light pouring of the off-shore wind, and I buttoned
up my coat as I turned to Caudel, though excitement worked much too
hotly in my soul to suffer me to feel conscious of the cold.

"This breeze will do, Caudel, if it holds," said I, approaching him by
a stride or two that my voice should not disturb Grace.

"Ay, sir, it is as pretty a little air as could be asked for."

"What light is that away out yonder?"

"The Varne, your honour."

"And where are you carrying the little ship to?" said I, looking at the
illuminated disc of compass card that swung in the short, brass
binnacle under his nose.

"Ye see the course, Mr. Barclay--west by nothe. That 'll fetch Beachy
Head for us, afterwards a small shift of the hellum 'll put the Channel
under our bows, keeping the British ports as we go along handy, so that
if your honour don't like the look of the bayrometer, why there's
always a harbour within a easy sail."

I was quite willing that Caudel should heave the English land into
sight. He had been bred in coasters, and knew his way about by the
mere swell of the mud, as the sailors say; whereas, put him in t