The Golden Harpoon

In the midst of the uproar stood Alice Howard, watching with dilating eyes and blushing cheeks the movements of Harry Marline, who belonged to the mate’s boat, and who, more than once, while arranging his irons, contrived to direct a quick but smiling glance toward the spot where she stood. She had been so long an inmate of her uncle’s vessel, that—but for the presence of her lover—the scene passing before her eyes would have excited but little interest in her bosom.