“A pretty morning’s work I have made of it, mother,” said Henry, as he flung himself into a chair in the cottage parlour, on his return from the weary and fruitless chase which has just been recorded.

 

The widow was pale and haggard, but she could not help smiling as she observed the look of extreme disappointment which rested on the countenance of her son.

 

“True, Henry,” she replied, busying herself in preparing breakfast, “you have not been very successful, but you made a noble effort.”

 

“Pshaw! a noble effort, indeed! Why, the man has foiled me in the two things in which I prided myself most—wrestling and running. I never saw such a greyhound in my life.”

 

“He is a giant, my boy; few men could hope to overcome him.”

 

“True, as regards wrestling, mother; I am not much ashamed of having been beaten by him at that; but running—that’s the sore point. Such a weight he is, and yet he took the north gully like a wild cat, and you know, mother, there are only two of us in Sandy Cove who can go over that gully. Ay, and he went a full yard farther than ever I did. I measured the leap as I came down. Really it is too bad to have been beaten so completely by a man who must be nearly double my age. But, after all, the worst of the whole affair is, that a pirate has escaped me after I actually had him in my arms! the villain!”

 

“You do not know that he is a villain,” said the widow in a subdued tone.

 

“You are right, mother,” said Henry, looking up from the plate of bacon, to which he had been devoting himself with much assiduity, and gazing earnestly into his mother’s face; “you are right, and, do you know, I feel inclined to give the fellow the benefit of the doubt, for to tell you the truth I have a sort of liking for him. If it had not been for the way in which he has treated you, and the suspicious character that he bears, I do believe I should have made a friend of him.”

 

A look of evident pleasure crossed the widow’s face while her son spoke, but as that son’s eyes were once more riveted on the bacon, which his morning exercise rendered peculiarly attractive, he did not observe it.

 

Just then the door opened, and Mr Mason entered. His face wore a dreadfully anxious expression.

 

“Ha! I’m glad to see you, Henry,” said he; “of course you have not caught your man. I have been waiting anxiously for you to consult about our future proceedings. It is quite evident that the pirate schooner cannot be far off. Gascoyne must either have swam ashore, or been landed in a boat. In either case the schooner must have been within the reef at the time, and there has been little wind since the squall blew itself out yesterday.”

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