ugh the
quivering golden haze; whilst on the left, across the water, Southsea
Castle stood boldly forward upon its low projecting point, a watchful
sentinel over the magnificent anchorage of Spithead. Inland from the
castle lay the little straggling town of Southsea; and beyond it again,
still higher up the estuary, appeared the spires and roofs of
Portsmouth, its harbour crowded with a perfect forest of masts. Some
half a dozen men-o'-war lay at anchor at Spithead; and the waters of the
Solent were dotted with the sails of craft of all sizes, from the
stately frigate to the humble but enterprising bumboat.

As Lucy sat there on the beach, basking in the sun, and far too idle to
read, her listless gaze became fastened upon a trim, smart-looking
little schooner which, under all the canvas she could possibly spread,
was creeping slowly up from the westward before the light summer breeze.
The glance of indifference with which the fair girl at first regarded
the little craft, gradually changed to one of the greatest interest.
Lucy, it must be remembered, was a sailor's daughter; nearly all her
neighbours were interested almost solely in seafaring matters; the daily
conversation of those by whom she was surrounded abounded in nautical
technicalities; she had even made a trip upon one occasion in her
father's lugger (the only occasion, by the bye, on which the hold of the
said lugger was absolutely guiltless of contraband freight); and lastly,
were not the walls of her home adorned with portraits of craft of
various rigs passing Flushing or the Needles? All of which
circumstances had combined to give Lucy a very fair knowledge of
nautical matters and "a sailor's eye." She had not only learned the
distinguishing characteristics of different rigs, but had also acquired
the subtle power of recognising the individuality of different craft of
the same rig whenever there happened to be anything to excite her
interest in such craft. So now she first recognised the fact that the
approaching vessel was a schooner, and, a little later on, when the
schooner had drawn somewhat nearer, she became conscious that the
schooner was well known to her. Drawing a small telescope from her
pocket, she focussed it and pointed it at the vessel. Yes; there could
be no doubt about it, it was the _Industry_; every little detail of
canvas and rigging proclaimed the schooner's identity; and then, as
though in order that there should be no possible