The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. Only of course I must begin something else at once.
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