in New York--to my own people--just as I sang before the Queen in
London. But now I am so cold--and so tired."

Mother Nolan gaped at her.

"Glory be!" she whispered. "Eyes like fairies' eyes an' a voice like a
mermaid's! An' the little white hands of her, soft as cream! An' the
beautiful rings! Glory be!"




CHAPTER VII

THE GOLD OF THE "ROYAL WILLIAM"


The skipper and his four companions returned to the cliff above the
wreck, the skipper striding ahead, silent, deep in a mental and
spiritual unrest that was thought without reflection. The others
followed, whispering among themselves but afraid to question their
leader. The wind had fallen to a breeze by the time they reached the
point of the cliff overlooking the slanted deck of the stranded ship.
Also, the seas had lost much of their height and violence, and the tide
was ebbing. The group on the cliff's edge eyed the skipper inquiringly,
furtively, as he joined them. He strode through them and looked down at
the wreck. His face lightened in a flash and his dark eyes gleamed.

"What did I tell ye!" he cried. "Now she lays steady as a house, all
ready to be gutted like a fish. Pass a couple o' lines this way, men.