Clouds settled down upon the home of Mr. Delaplaine. There were no visitors, there was no music, there seemed to be no sunshine. The beautiful fabrics, the jewels, and the feathers were seen no more. It was Kate of the broken heart who wandered under the trees and among the blossoms, and knew not that there existed such things as cooling shade and sweet fragrance. She could not be comforted, for, although her uncle told her that he had had information that her father's ship had sailed northward, and that it was, therefore, likely that the corvette would not overtake him, she could not forget that, whatever of good or evil befell that father, he was a pirate, and he had deserted her.
So they said but little, the uncle and the niece, who sorrowed quietly.
Dame Charter was in a strange state of mind. During the frequent visits of Captain Vince she had been apprehensive and troubled, and her only comfort was that the Badger had merely touched at this port to refit, and that she must soon sail away and take with her her captain. The good woman had begun to expect and to hope for the return of Dickory, but later she had blessed her stars that he was not there. He was a fiery boy, her brave son, but it would have been a terrible thing for him to become involved with an officer in the navy, a man with a long, keen sword.
Now that the captain had raged himself away from the Delaplaine house her spirits rose, and her great fear was that the corvette might not leave port before the brig came in. If Dickory should hear of the things that captain had said--but she banished such thoughts from her mind, she could not bear them.
After some days the corvette sailed, and the Governor spoke well of the diligence and ardour which had urged Captain Vince to so quickly set out upon his path of duty.
"When Dickory comes back," said Dame Charter to Kate, "he may bring some news to cheer your poor heart, things get so twisted in the telling."
Kate shook her head. "Dickory cannot tell me anything now," she said, "that I care to know, knowing so much. My father is a pirate, and a king's ship has gone out to destroy him, and what could Dickory tell me that would cheer me?"
But Dame Charter's optimism was beginning to take heart again and to spread its wings.
"Ah, my dear, you don't know what good things do in this life continually crop up. A letter from your father, possibly withheld by that wicked Madam Bonnet--which is what Dickory and I both think--or some good words from the town that your father has sold his ship, and is on his way home. Nobody knows what good news that Dickory may bring with him."