“Been to market,” Simeon explained; “looked in on the way back. What have you got here?” “Horse down with colic. Mother turned him loose into the stable, corn bin was open, he ate his fill and then had a good drink at the trough. I’ve had a proper job with him.” “All right now, eddn ’a?” “Yes, I think so.” Simeon shuffled his expansive feet. “Don’t see much of you up to Roswarva these days.” “No.” More shufflings. “We do brearly miss ’e.” “That so?” Simeon cleared his throat. “My maid asked ’e to supper some three months back . . . well, if you don’t come up soon it’ll be getting cold like.” There was an uncomfortable pause; then Eli looked up steadily. “I want you to understand, Sim, that things aren’t the same with me as they were now Ortho’s come home. My father died too sudden; he didn’t leave a thing to me. I’m nothing but a beggar now. Ortho . . .” The gaunt slab of hair and wrinkles that was Simeon’s face split into a smile. “Here, for gracious sake, don’t speak upon Ortho; he’s pretty nigh talked me deaf and dumb night after night of how he was a king in Barbary and what not and so forth . . . clunk, clunk, clunk! In the Lord’s name do you come up and let’s have a little sociable silence for a change.” “Do you mean it?” Eli gasped. “Mean it,” said Simeon, laying a hairy paw on his shoulder. “Did you ever hear me or my maid say a word we didn’t mean—son?” Eli rushed across the yard and into the house to fetch his best coat. Teresa was standing in front of the fire, hands outstretched, shivering despite the blaze. She reeled when her son went bounding past her, reeled as though she had seen a ghost. “Eli! My God, Eli!” she cried. “What—how—where you been?” “In the stable physicking your horse,” he said, climbing the stairs. “I sent Ortho after that boat.” He did not hear the crash his mother made as she fell; he was in too much of a hurry. * * * * * Ortho climbed the forward ladder and came out on the upper deck. The ship was thrashing along under all plain sail, braced sharp up. The sky was covered with torn fleeces of cloud, but blue patches gleamed through the rents, and the ship leapt forward lit by a beam of sunshine, white pinioned, a clean bone in her teeth. A rain storm had just passed over, drenching her, and every rope and spar was outlined with glittering beads; the wet deck shone like a plaque of silver. Cheerily sang the wind in the shrouds, the weather leeches quivered, the reef points pattered impatient fingers, and under Ortho’s feet the frigate trembled like an eager horse reaching for its bit. “She’s snorting the water from her nostrils, all right,” he said approvingly. “Step on, lady.” So he was aboardship again. How he had come there he didn’t know. He remembered nothing after reaching Zawn-a-Bal Cove and trying to push that boat off. His head gave an uncomfortable throb. Ah, that was it! He had been knocked on the head—press gang.