Chapter Nineteen.
On reaching the ruins, the Lady Nina and her companion saw old Vlacco seated on a rock, at a short distance, whence he could command an extensive view of the sea. He had a spyglass in his hand, which he every now and then lifted to his eye, to observe the approaching sail, and then he would let it fall again into his lap, as if he were considering what she was.
“Let us go and ask my grandfather what he thinks is the vessel in sight,” said Mila, and, with some difficulty, they worked their way over the rocks and ruins towards him.
He turned round rather gruffly at hearing the voice of his grandchild, as she asked him what he thought was the sail nearing the island; for, as he himself had not yet made up his mind on the subject, he was unable to give her a positive answer; and was very unwilling to confess his ignorance, especially in the presence of the Lady Nina.
“She is a brig, child; and I should have thought your own sharp eyes would have told you that,” he answered.
“So they have, grandfather,” she replied. “I have seen that she is a brig long ago; but I want to know whether she is the Sea Hawk, or a stranger.”
“A stranger would scarcely be running directly for the port, as that vessel is; and it is about the time we may expect our chief’s return,” answered old Vlacco; “so, if one was unable to distinguish that brig below there from any other, we might conclude that she was the Sea Hawk.”
The young Italian stood by, anxiously listening to these observations, for her heart beat eagerly for the return of him who commanded the vessel of which they spoke, and dark were the forebodings of disaster which oppressed her at his long absence.
“Then you think she is the Sea Hawk?” exclaimed Mila. “I pray she may be, for the sweet lady’s sake.”