He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. CHAPTER XV.
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