e exchanged an eloquent glance with little Kate.

The latter smiled, and sewed, with drooping lashes.

"Get him home on the instant," roared Giles. "I'll make a man of him."

"Hear the boy!" said Catherine, half comically, half proudly.

"We hear him," said Richart; "a mostly makes himself heard when a do
speak."

Sybrandt. "Which will get to him first?"

Cornelis (gloomily). "Who can tell?"

CHAPTER LV

About two months before this scene in Eli's home, the natives of a
little' maritime place between Naples and Rome might be seen flocking to
the sea beach, with eyes cast seaward at a ship, that laboured against a
stiff gale blowing dead on the shore.

At times she seemed likely to weather the danger, and then the
spectators congratulated her aloud: at others the wind and sea drove
her visibly nearer, and the lookers-on were not without a secret
satisfaction they would not have owned even to themselves.

Non quia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas
Sed quibus ipse malis careas quia cernere suave est.

And the poor ship, though not scientifically built for sailing, was
admirably constructed for going ashore, with her extravagant poop that
caught the wind, and her lines like a cocked hat reversed. To those
on the beach that battered labouring frame of wood seemed alive, and
struggling against death with a panting heart. But could they have been
transferred to her deck they would have seen she had not one beating
heart but many, and not one nature but a score were coming out clear in
that fearful hour.

The mariners stumbled wildly about the deck, handling the ropes as each
thought fit, and cursing and praying alternately.

The passengers were huddled together round the mast, some sitting, some
kneeling, some lying prostrate, and grasping the bulwarks as the vessel
rolled and pitched in the mighty waves. One comely young man, whose ashy
cheek, but compressed lips, showed how hard terror was battling in him
with self-respect, stood a little apart, holding tight by a shroud, and
wincing at each sea. It was the ill-fated Gerard. Meantime prayers and
vows rose from the trembling throng amid-ships, and to hear them,
it seemed there were almost as many gods about as men and women. The
sailors, indeed, relied on a single goddess. They varied her titles
only, calling on her as "Queen of Heaven," "Star of the Sea," "Mistress
of the World," "Haven of Safety." But among the landsmen Polytheism
raged. Eve