s.

"Ahoy there!"

"Ahoy!" came the answer. "Who are you?"

"The _Evan Evans_, of Cardiff," responded the skipper between his
hollowed palms.

"Whither bound?"

"Cardiff."

The foremost boat was close now and drifting alongside. Arthur Miles
and Tilda stared down upon the faces of the rowers. They were eight or
ten, and young for the most part--young men of healthy brown complexions
and maidens in sun-bonnets; and they laughed, with upturned eyes, as
they fell to their oars again to keep pace with the steamer's slackening
way. The children now discerned what cargo the boats carried--each a
score or two of sheep, alive and bleating, their fleeces all golden in
the strange light.

An old man stood in the stern of the leading boat. He wore a long white
beard, and his face was extraordinarily gentle. It was he who answered
the skipper.

"For Cardiff?" he echoed.

"Aye, the _Evan Evans_, of Cardiff, an' thither bound. Maybe you've
heard of him," added the skipper irrelevantly. "A well-known Temperance
Reformer he was."

The old steersman shook his head.

"You're miles away out o' your course, then--five an' twenty miles
good."

"Where are we?"

"Right south-west--atween Holmness and the land. You've overshot
_everything_. Why, man, are ye all mazed aboard? Never a vessel comes
hereabouts, and 'tis the Lord's mercy you han't run her ashore."

"The Lord will provide," answered the skipper piously, "Which-a-way lies
Cardiff, say you?"

The old man pointed. But while he pointed Tilda ran forward.

"'Olmness? Is it 'Olmness?"

He stared up.

"Holmness it is, missie? But why?"

"An' you'll take us off? We're 'ere with a message. It's for Miles
Chandon, if you know 'im."

"Surely," the old man answered slowly. "Yes, surely--Sir Miles.
But who can have a message for Sir Miles?"

"For Miss Sally, then. You know Miss Sally?"

The old man's look changed in a moment.

"Miss Sally? Why o' course--Do we know Miss Sally?" he was appealing to
the crew of men and maidens forward, and they broke into a chime of
laughter.

"What's this?" demanded the skipper, stepping forward. "Here's a
couple of stowaways. I know nothing about 'em. It's your risk if you
choose to take 'em off."

"If she've a message for Miss Sally--" answered the old steersman after
a pause.

"It's life an' death!" pleaded Tilda.

The steamer, the upturned faces below, the fog all around--she saw it as
in a dream,