“Aye, aye,” said the watchman, significantly, and, as the schooner showed her stern, turned to answer, with such lies as he thought the occasion demanded, the eager questions of his fair companion. CHAPTER III. Captain Flower, learning through the medium of Tim that the coast was clear, came on deck at Limehouse, and took charge of his ship with a stateliness significant of an uneasy conscience. He noticed with growing indignation that the mate’s attitude was rather that of an accomplice than a subordinate, and that the crew looked his way far oftener than was necessary or desirable. “I told her we were going to France,” said the mate, in an impressive whisper. “Her?” said Flower, curtly. “Who?” “The lady you didn’t want to see,” said Fraser, restlessly. “You let your ideas run away with you, Jack,” said Flower, yawning. “It wasn’t likely I was going to turn out and dress to see any girl you liked to invite aboard.” “Or even to bawl at them through the speaking-trumpet,” said Fraser, looking at him steadily. “What sort o’ looking girl was she?” enquired Flower, craning his neck to see what was in front of him. “Looked like a girl who meant to find the man she wanted, if she spent ten years over it,” said the mate grimly. “I’ll bet you an even five shillings, cap’n, that she finds this Mr. Robinson before six weeks are out—whatever his other name is.” “Maybe,” said Flower, carelessly. “It’s her first visit to the _Foam_, but not the last, you mark my words,” said Fraser, solemnly. “If she wants this rascal Robinson——” “What?” interrupted Flower, sharply. “I say if she wants this rascal Robinson,” repeated the mate, with relish, “she’ll naturally come where she saw the last trace of him.” Captain Flower grunted. “Women never think,” continued Fraser, judicially, “or else she’d be glad to get rid of such a confounded scoundrel.” “What do you know about him?” demanded Flower. “I know what she told me,” said Fraser; “the idea of a man leaving a poor girl in a cake-shop and doing a bolt. He’ll be punished for it, I know. He’s a thoughtless, inconsiderate fellow, but one of the best-hearted chaps in the world, and I guess I’ll do the best I can for him.” Flower grinned safely in the darkness. “And any little help I can give you, Jack, I’ll give freely,” he said, softly. “We’ll talk it over at breakfast.” The mate took the hint, and, moving off, folded his arms on the taffrail, and, looking idly astern, fell into a reverie. Like the Pharisee, he felt thankful that he was not as other men, and dimly pitied the skipper and his prosaic entanglements, as he thought of Poppy. He looked behind at the dark and silent city, and felt a new affection for it, as he reflected that she was sleeping there. The two men commenced their breakfast in silence, the skipper eating with a zest which caused the mate to allude impatiently to the last breakfasts of condemned men.