Her second shot left no trace behind it, and at the third she was at the limit of her range.
Half an hour afterwards a little dark dot upon the horizon with a golden speck at one end of it was all that could be seen of the Honfleur guard-boat.

Wider and wider grew the low-lying shores, broader and broader was the vast spread of blue waters ahead, the smoke of Havre lay like a little cloud upon the northern horizon, and Captain Ephraim Savage paced his deck with his face as grim as ever, but with a dancing light in his gray eyes.
"I knew that the Lord would look after His own," said he complacently.
"We've got her beak straight now, and there's not as much as a dab of mud betwixt this and the three hills of Boston.

You've had too much of these French wines of late, Amos, lad.

Come down and try a real Boston brewing with a double stroke of malt in the mash tub.".