"Heard! Ship ahoy!" cried Jack. "Split me to the chin like a cod!
Stood I not abaft of you all day long, packed like a herring in a
pickle! 'Twas a pretty kettle of fish in your Noah's ark to-day! 'Tis
all along o' goodness gone stale from too much salt," says Jack.

I told him of little Rebecca, and asked what he made of it. He said he
made of it that fools didn't love in the right place--which was not to
the point, whatever Jack thought of Rebecca. Linking his arm through
mine, he headed me about.

"Captain Gillam, Ben's father, sails for England at sunrise," vouched
Jack.

"What has that to do with Mistress Hortense?" I returned testily.

"'Tis a swift ship to sail in."

"To sail in, Jack Battle?"--I caught at the hope. "Out with your plan,
man!"

"And be hanged for it," snaps Jack, falling silent.

We were opposite the prison. He pointed to a light behind the bars.

"They are the only prisoners," he said. "They must be in there."

"One could pass a note through those bars with a long pole," I
observed, gazing over the yard wall.

"Or a key," answered Jack.