“My child, chains would not have held him here. He has gone down in an omnibus to the navy yard.”
Preparations were soon made, and Mr. Force and the three ladies were on their way to the east end of the city.
They drove through the navy yard gate, past the officers’ quarters and the workshops, and down to the water side.
There lay the Argente at anchor a few hundred yards from the shore.
Mr. Force directed the driver to draw up.
Then he alighted from the carriage and handed his wife down; Odalite and Rosemary sprang out unassisted.
Odalite’s face was bright, eager, expectant; Rosemary’s pale, timid and anxious; both stood looking out upon the prize.
“How shall we reach the ship?” inquired Mrs. Force.
“I must signal for a boat to come off and fetch us! Stay, there is a boat coming,” announced the squire, and soon they all saw the boat that had been partly hidden in the shadow of the ship’s hulk, put off from her side. It was rowed by six sailors and approached the shore rapidly.
“Who is in it? Oh, if it should be Roland!” aspirated Rosemary, in a low, deep tone.