After a pause he turned and glanced sideways at Miriam, who was
looking straight in front of her with steady eyes and white cheeks.

They could hear Loo Barebone singing gaily in the boat, which was
hidden below the level of the dyke. And they watched, in a sudden
silence, the sail pass down the river toward the quay.



CHAPTER IX. A MISTAKE



The tide was ebbing still when Barebone loosed his boat, one night,
from the grimy steps leading from the garden of Maiden's Grave farm
down to the creek. It was at the farm-house that Captain Clubbe now
lived when on shore. He had lived there since the death of his
brother, two years earlier--that grim Clubbe of Maiden's Grave,
whose methods of life and agriculture are still quoted on market
days from Colchester to Beccles.

The evenings were shorter now, for July was drawing to a close, and
the summer is brief on these coasts. The moon was not up yet, but
would soon rise. Barebone hoisted the great lug-sail, that smelt of
seaweed and tannin. There was a sleepy breeze blowing in from the
cooler sea, to take the place of that hot and shimmering air which
had been rising all day from the corn-fields. He was quicker in his
movements than those who usually handled these stiff ropes and held
the clumsy tiller. Quick--and quiet for once. He had been three