It was Captain Ben Bruce who came quietly along the deck of the _Sea-mew_ and looked at Picton Woodridge as he gazed over Torquay bay. A kindly look was in his eyes, which were always bright and merry, for he was a cheerful man, not given to look on the dark side of things. His affection for Picton was that of a father for a son, in addition to being a companion and a friend. He noticed the sad far-away look on Picton's face, and wondered what it was that caused the shadow on this beautiful April morning. "I'll leave him to his meditations," he thought; "he'll be down for breakfast, and I'll ask him then." He was about to turn away when Picton looked round and said with a smile: "Something told me you were there." "Telepathy," said Ben. "Sympathy," said Picton. "Do you know what I was thinking about?" "No; I saw you were pensive. I'd have asked you at breakfast, you looked so serious." "I was serious." "What caused the passing cloud on such a glorious morning?" asked Ben. Picton took him by the arm, his grip tightened; with the other hand he pointed to the battleship. "The boom of a gun," he said; and Ben Bruce understood. CHAPTER II STORY OF AN ESCAPE "Row me to the _Sea-mew_," said Dick Langford, and old Brackish touched his cap and replied, "Yes, sir; she's a beauty, she is. Hear the news, sir?" "No; anything startling?" "Nothin' out o' the common, at least not in these parts, but it's summat different to most." "You're always long-winded, Brackish--Yorkshireman, I suppose," said Dick impatiently. Brackish was a Yorkshire boatman, hailing from Scarborough; he came to Torquay because his mother, nearly ninety, could not stand the cold blasts of the North East coast, and the old salt had a heart. "Brack" had a rough red face, eyebrows lapped over a pair of blue eyes; his throat and chest were always bared, tanned the color of leather; black hair covered his chest; his hands were hard, a deeper brown than his chest, the hands of a son of toil, and a boatman. Brack had been popular at Scarborough; he was well known in Torbay as a brave hardy seaman, whom no weather daunted. At first he had joined the Brixham fishing fleet, but soon tired of it, and when he saved enough money he bought a couple of boats, and made a decent living in Torquay harbor. Brack was fond of gossip, and on this particular morning he was eager for a talk; it was his intention to have it out with Dick before he put foot in the boat, so he stood looking at the young man, barring his entrance to the craft he was eager to put his foot in. The old boatman was a sturdy figure in his rough seaman's clothes as he eyed Dick Langford, and, although impatient, Dick could not help smiling at him. He liked Brack, and the sailor returned the feeling. "Let me get in and you can tell me about the news as we row to the yacht," said Dick. "All right, sir; no hurry, you're here early. It's Mr. Woodridge's yacht, ain't it?"