Nobody seemed to notice that Conway usurped the quarter-deck. In fact, it had been breezed abroad that he was the father-in-law of the master of the brig, and Jack was therefore satisfied. For an hour or so things remained as they were: Gravesend hung in squall; Tilbury ran off its banks in gleams of mud; the little cutter, with her gaff mainsail hoisted, strained at her cable; and all between were great ships and little ships coming and going. Those who came were bound to London town, and those who went were being steered down the noble stream to every port in the world. An hour after Commander Conway had arrived on board the _Gypsy_, a wherry might have been seen putting off with feathering blade and smart whip of oar in the direction of the brig. 'Here they come!' said the commander; and he knocked the ashes of his pipe over the rail. The boat rapidly glanced athwart the tide; the commander continued to strut to and fro. Hoey stood at the open gangway ready to receive the party. The boat hooked on, and swarmed through the rush of waters abreast to alongside. Captain and Mrs. Jackman stepped on board. The boat put off, and Hoey, turning to the commander, shouted-- 'Are you going ashore, sir?' 'Yes, and with my daughter,' said the commander, advancing towards Ada, who slightly shrank. 'Pray, sir, what business have you in this vessel?' demanded Captain Jackman with a very dark face. 'My business is that lady whom you have feloniously removed from my roof, and now intend to carry into some sort of calling--smuggling, they call it--which may wholly ruin her.' 'Nonsense!' exclaimed the young lady. 'What I did was done entirely of my own free will, and I will do it again. He is my husband. You cannot separate us; you cannot take me ashore because you wish to see us sundered.' She stood all her inches as she said these words, and spoke with her full strength of voice, and the sailors listened eagerly. Reckoned on the whole, she was the finest girl out of the port of London. 'Weigh anchor!' shouted Captain Jackman to Hoey, whose voice instantly went forward in the proper cow-like roar. It was an old-fashioned capstan, and it was worked with a song, and there were thirty throats. By degrees those looking over the rail saw the shore slipping by and inward-bound vessels coming along fast. Sail floated to the masthead, and blew balloon-like at the topgallant mast. Captain Jackman, after speaking a word with his wife, crossed the deck, where Conway stepped, the picture of violated law, indignant father, and horror of the whole proceedings. 'Is it your intention, sir, to make this cruise with us? If so, you are very welcome; another nautical sabreur will please me vastly.' 'You are carrying me away at your own risk. You have stolen my daughter. I mean that you shall set me ashore, and I intend that my daughter shall accompany me home.' 'To what home?' cried Jackman. 'To the home you stole her from!' shouted Conway.