“At all events, don’t let us trust them,” added Paganel. “The New Zealanders have the barbarous custom of deceiving ships by moving lights, like the wreckers on the Cornish coast in former times. Now the natives of Maria Theresa may have heard of this proceeding.”
“Keep her off a point,” called out John to the man at the helm. “To-morrow at sunrise we shall know what we’re about.”
At eleven o’clock, the passengers and John Mangles retired to their cabins. In the forepart of the yacht the man on watch was pacing the deck, while aft, there was no one but the man at the wheel.
At this moment Mary Grant and Robert came on the poop.
The two children of the captain, leaning over the rail, gazed sadly at the phosphorescent waves and the luminous wake of the DUNCAN. Mary was thinking of her brother’s future, and Robert of his sister’s. Their father was uppermost in the minds of both. Was this idolized parent still in existence? Must they give him up? But no, for what would life be without him? What would become of them without him? What would have become of them already, but for Lord Glenarvan and Lady Helena?
The young boy, old above his years through trouble, divined the thoughts that troubled his sister, and taking her hand in his own, said, “Mary, we must never despair. Remember the lessons our father gave us. Keep your courage up and no matter what befalls you, let us show this obstinate courage which can rise above everything. Up to this time, sister, you have been working for me, it is my turn now, and I will work for you.”
“Dear Robert!” replied the young girl.
“I must tell you something,” resumed Robert. “You mustn’t be vexed, Mary!”
“Why should I be vexed, my child?”
“And you will let me do it?”