"If your son has sailed," said Captain Acton, with a face charged with perplexity, doubt, irritation, and astonishment, "he had no authority to do so. What has caused him to take this step? Surely as a sailor who has served the State, he, before all masters in the Merchant Service, ought to understand the meaning of the word of command."
Sir William's countenance resembled the expression that probably decorated Captain Marryat's Port Admiral when he was told in no uncompromising language, "You be damned!"
"And where, pray, is Lucy?" said Miss Acton, in a voice querulous with alarm and other feelings, for Miss Acton was one of those old ladies who are always praising Providence for its blessings, but who are very willing to find calamity in trifles. "She is a long time gone. Who says that she breakfasted with the Jellybottles? And at what time did she leave the house? And if Mamie went with her why is she here?" she added, turning her eyes upon the little terrier.
The hall door was wide open; a footman was crossing the hall. Captain Acton called to him.
"What time this morning did Miss Lucy leave the house?"
"I don't know, sir. I'll ascertain, sir," and the man disappeared.
"The Minorca not in the Harbour!" exclaimed Miss Acton, staring at the cluster of rigs, beyond which rose the breadth of narrow sea shining in a blue tremble to its horizon. "No accident could have happened or you would have heard, brother."
"Miss Lucy went out at about half-past seven, sir," said the footman.
"Come, Admiral, we will walk to the Harbour and enquire into this matter," said Captain Acton, who was somewhat pale and looked extremely disconcerted.