Running to her father's side, the child chattered with all the volubility of flattered self-esteem.

She ran hither and thither, asked questions, invented answers, laughed, sang, gambolled, peered into the compass-case, felt in the pockets of the man at the helm, put her tiny hand into the big palm of the officer of the watch, even ran down to the quarter-deck and pulled the coat-tails of the sentry on duty.
At last, tired of running about, she took a little striped leather ball from the bosom of her frock, and calling to her father, threw it up to him as he stood on the poop.

He returned it, and, shouting with laughter, clapping her hands between each throw, the child kept up the game.
The convicts--whose slice of fresh air was nearly eaten--turned with eagerness to watch this new source of amusement.

Innocent laughter and childish prattle were strange to them.

Some smiled, and nodded with interest in the varying fortunes of the game.