"Right south-west—atween Holmness and the land. You've overshot everything. Why, man, are ye all mazed aboard? Never a vessel comes hereabouts, and 'tis the Lord's mercy you han't run her ashore."
"The Lord will provide," answered the skipper piously, "Which-a-way lies
Cardiff, say you?"
The old man pointed. But while he pointed Tilda ran forward.
"'Olmness? Is it 'Olmness?"
He stared up.
"Holmness it is, missie? But why?"
"An' you'll take us off? We're 'ere with a message. It's for Miles
Chandon, if you know 'im."
"Surely," the old man answered slowly. "Yes, surely—Sir Miles.
But who can have a message for Sir Miles?"
"For Miss Sally, then. You know Miss Sally?"
The old man's look changed in a moment.