The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. "But it wants something here. " "Not while Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland live. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. "So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen.
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