through the mazy channels towards Peter Port. When I got farther out, and
could get an occasional glimpse of the rampart, he was still leaning on it
and was still staring out at me just as I had left him.




CHAPTER XVII

HOW I WENT OUT WITH JOHN OZANNE


There was no difficulty in finding John Ozanne. I made out his burly figure
and red-whiskered face on the harbour wall before I had passed Castle
Cornet, and heard his big voice good-humouredly roaring to the men at work
in the rigging of a large schooner that lay alongside.

He greeted me with great goodwill.

"Why, surely, Phil," he said very heartily, in reply to my request. "It's
not your grandfather's boy I would be refusing, and it's a small boat that
won't take in one more. What does the old man say to your going?"

"He's willing, or I wouldn't be here."

"That's all right, then. What do you think of her?"

We were standing on the harbour wall, looking down on the schooner on which
the riggers were busy renewing her standing gear.