"I'll give him one more chance," he said; and he had just arrived at this point as he was walking sharply through the trees by the combe, with the intention of slipping in unseen, when he came suddenly upon his father seated upon a stone, and was saluted with the above question as to having been overboard.

"Yes, father," he said, glancing down at his drenched garments, "I've been in."

"Bah! you go blundering about looking inside instead of where you're steering," cried the Captain. "Aren't drowned, I suppose?"

Nic laughed.

"Well, slip in and get on some dry things. Look alive."

Nic did not want to enter into the business through which he had pa.s.sed, so he hurried indoors, glad to change his clothes.

Then, as the time went on he felt less and less disposed to speak about his adventure, for it seemed hard work to make an effort to punish the man who had, after all, saved his life.

About a fortnight had pa.s.sed, when one morning, upon going down, he encountered his father's old sailor-servant, who answered his salute with a grin.

"What are you laughing at, Bill?" asked Nic.

"They've been at it again, sir."

"What! those scoundrels after the salmon?"

"Yes, sir; in the night. Didn't you hear 'em?"

"Of course not. Did you?"

"Oh yes, I heerd 'em and seed 'em too; leastwise, I seed their lights.

So did Tom Gardener."

"Then why didn't you call me up?" cried Nic angrily.

"'Cause you'd ha' woke the Captain, and he'd have had us all out for a fight."

"Of course he would."

"And he was a deal better in his bed. You know what he is, Master Nic.

I put it to you, now. He's got all the sperrit he always did have, and is ripe as ever for a row; but is he fit, big and heavy as he's growed, to go down fighting salmon-poachers?"

"No; but we could have knocked up Tom Gardener and the other men, and gone ourselves."

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old sailor, laughing. "He'd have heared, perhaps.

Think you could ha' made him keep back when there was a fight, Master Nic?"

"No, I suppose not; but he will be horribly angry, and go on at you fiercely when he knows."

"Oh, of course," said the man coolly. "That's his way; but I'm used to that. It does him good, he likes it, and it don't do me no harm. Never did in the old days at sea."

"Has any one been down to the river?"

"Oh yes; me and Tom Gardener went down as soon as it was daylight; and they've been having a fine game."

"Game?"

"Ay, that they have, Master Nic," said the man, laughing. "There's no water coming over the fall, and the pool was full of fish."

"Well, I know that, Bill," cried Nic impatiently; "but you don't mean to say that--"

"Yes, I do," said the man, grinning. "They've cleared it."

"And you laugh, sir!"

"Well, 'taren't nowt to cry about, Master Nic. On'y a few fish."

"And you know how particular my father is about the salmon."

"Oh, ay. Of course I know; but he eats more of 'em than's good for him now. 'Sides, they left three on the side. Slipped out o' their baskets, I suppose."

Nic was right: the Captain was furious, and the servants, from William Solly to the youngest gardener, were what they called "tongue-thrashed,"

Captain Revel storming as if he were once more rating his crew aboard ship.

"They all heard, Nic, my boy," he said to his son. "I believe they knew the scoundrels were coming, and they were too cowardly to give the alarm."

This was after a walk down to the pool, where the water was clear and still save where a little stream ran sparkling over the shelf of rock instead of a thunderous fall, the gathering from the high grounds of the moors.

"I'm afraid they heard them, father," said Nic.

"Afraid? I'm sure of it, boy."

"And that they did not like the idea of your getting mixed up in the fight."

"Ah!" cried the Captain, catching his son by the shoulder; "then you knew of it too, sir? You wanted me to be kept out of it."

"I do want you to be kept out of any struggle, father," said Nic.

"Why, sir, why?" panted the old officer.

"Because you are not so active as you used to be."

"What, sir? Nonsense, sir! A little heavy and--er--short-winded perhaps, but never better or more full of fight in my life, sir. The scoundrels! Oh, if I had been there! But I feel hurt, Nic--cruelly hurt. You and that salt-soaked old villain, Bill Sally, hatch up these things between you. Want to make out I'm infirm. I'll discharge that vagabond."

"No, you will not, father. He's too good and faithful a servant. He thinks of nothing but his old Captain's health."

"A scoundrel! and so he ought to. Wasn't he at sea with me for five-and-twenty years--wrecked with me three times?--But you, Nic, to mutiny against your father!"

"No, no, father; I a.s.sure you I knew nothing whatever about it till I came down this morning."

"And you'd have woke me if you had known?"

"Of course I would, father."