"Fair, lad; fair," said the officer, laughing in spite of himself. "Ah!

Ruby Brand, you are jealous of him! Well, I see that I'm fated not to capture you, so I'll bid you good day. Meanwhile your companions will be so good as to step into my gig."

The two men rose to obey. Big Sw.a.n.kie stepped over the gunwale, with the fling of a sulky, reckless man, who curses his fate and submits to it. Davy Spink had a very crestfallen, subdued look. He was about to follow, when a thought seemed to strike him. He turned hastily round, and Ruby was surprised to see that his eyes were suffused with tears, and that his features worked with the convulsive twitching of one who struggles powerfully to restrain his feelings.

"Ruby Brand," said he, in a deep husky voice, which trembled at first, but became strong as he went on; "Ruby Brand, I deserve nae good at your hands, yet I'll ask a favour o' ye. Ye've seen the wife and the bairn, the wee ane wi' the fair curly pow. Ye ken the auld hoose. It'll be mony a lang day afore I see them again, if iver I come back ava.

There's naebody left to care for them. They'll be starvin' soon, lad.

Wull ye--wull ye look-doon?"

Poor Davy Spink stopped here, and covered his face with his big sunburnt hands.

A sudden gush of sympathy filled Ruby's heart. He started forward, and drawing from his pocket the letter with which he was charged, thrust it into Spink's hand, and said hurriedly--

"Don't fail to deliver it the first thing you do on landing. And hark'ee, Spink, go to Mrs Brand's cottage, and tell them there _why_ I went away. Be sure you see them _all_, and explain _why it was_. Tell Minnie Gray that I will be _certain_ to return, if G.o.d spares me."

Without waiting for a reply he sprang into the gig, and gave the other boat a shove, that sent it several yards off.

"Give way, lads," cried the officer, who was delighted at this unexpected change in affairs, though he had only heard enough of the conversation to confuse him as to the cause of it.

"Stop! stop!" shouted Spink, tossing up his arms.

"I'd rather not," returned the officer.

Davy seized the oars, and, turning his boat in the direction of the gig, endeavoured to overtake it. As well might the turkey-buzzard attempt to catch the swallow. He was left far behind, and when last seen faintly through the fog, he was standing up in the stern of the boat wringing his hands.

Ruby had seated himself in the bow of the gig, with his face turned steadily towards the sea, so that no one could see it. This position he maintained in silence until the boat ranged up to what appeared like the side of a great mountain, looming through the mist.

Then he turned round, and, whatever might have been the struggle within his breast, all traces of it had left his countenance, which presented its wonted appearance of good-humoured frankness.

We need scarcely say that the mountain turned out to be a British man-of-war. Ruby was quickly introduced to his future messmates, and warmly received by them. Then he was left to his own free will during the remainder of that day, for the commander of the vessel was a kind man, and did not like to add to the grief of the impressed men by setting them to work at once.

Thus did our hero enter the Royal Navy; and many a long and weary day and month pa.s.sed by before he again set foot in his native town.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

OTHER THINGS BESIDES MURDER "WILL OUT."

Meanwhile Davy Spink, with his heart full, returned slowly to the sh.o.r.e.

He was long of reaching it, the boat being very heavy for one man to pull. On landing he hurried up to his poor little cottage, which was in a very low part of the town, and in a rather out-of-the-way corner of that part.

"Janet," said he, flinging himself into a rickety old armchair that stood by the fireplace, "the press-gang has catched us at last, and they've took Big Sw.a.n.kie away, and, worse than that--"

"Oh!" cried Janet, unable to wait for more, "that's the best news I've heard for mony a day. Ye're sure they have him safe?"

"Ay, sure enough," said Spink dryly; "but ye needna be sae glad aboot it, for. Sw.a.n.kie was aye good to _you_."

"Ay, Davy," cried Janet, putting her arm round her husband's neck, and kissing him, "but he wasna good to _you_. He led ye into evil ways mony a time when ye would rather hae keepit oot o' them. Na, na, Davy, ye needna shake yer heed; I ken'd fine."

"Weel, weel, hae'd yer ain way, la.s.s, but Sw.a.n.kie's awa' to the wars, and so's Ruby Brand, for they've gotten him as weel."

"Ruby Brand!" exclaimed the woman.

"Ay, Ruby Brand; and this is the way they did it."

Here Spink detailed to his helpmate, who sat with folded hands and staring eyes opposite to her husband, all that had happened. When he had concluded, they discussed the subject together. Presently the little girl came bouncing into the room, with rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, a dirty face, and fair ringlets very much dishevelled, and with a pitcher of hot soup in her hands.

Davy caught her up, and kissing her, said abruptly, "Maggie, Big Sw.a.n.kie's awa' to the wars."

The child looked enquiringly in her father's face, and he had to repeat his words twice before she quite realised the import of them.

"Are ye jokin', daddy?"

"No, Maggie; it's true. The press-gang got him and took him awa', an' I doot we'll never see him again."

The little girl's expression changed while he spoke, then her lip trembled, and she burst into tears.

"See there, Janet," said Spink, pointing to Maggie, and looking earnestly at his wife.

"Weel-a-weel," replied Janet, somewhat softened, yet with much firmness, "I'll no deny that the man was fond o' the bairn, and it liked him weel enough; but, my certes! he wad hae made a bad man o' you if he could.

But I'm real sorry for Ruby Brand; and what'll the puir la.s.sie Gray do?

Ye'll hae to gang up an' gie them the message."

"So I will; but that's like somethin' to eat, I think?"

Spink pointed to the soup.

"Ay, it's a' we've got, so let's fa' to; and haste ye, lad. It's a sair heart she'll hae this night--wae's me!"

While Spink and his wife were thus employed, Widow Brand, Minnie Gray, and Captain Ogilvy were seated at tea, round the little table in the snug kitchen of the widow's cottage.

It might have been observed that there were two teapots on the table, a large one and a small, and that the captain helped himself out of the small one, and did not take either milk or sugar. But the captain's teapot did not necessarily imply tea. In fact, since the death of the captain's mother, that small teapot had been accustomed to strong drink only. It never tasted tea.

"I wonder if Ruby will get leave of absence," said the captain, throwing himself back in his armchair, in order to be able to admire, with greater ease, the smoke, as it curled towards the ceiling from his mouth and pipe.

"I do hope so," said Mrs Brand, looking up from her knitting, with a little sigh. Mrs Brand usually followed up all her remarks with a little sigh. Sometimes the sigh was _very_ little. It depended a good deal on the nature of her remark whether the sigh was of the little, less, or least description; but it never failed, in one or other degree, to close her every observation.

"I _think_ he will," said Minnie, as she poured a second cup of tea for the widow.

"Ay, that's right, la.s.s," observed the captain; "there's nothin' like hope--

"`The pleasures of hope told a flatterin' tale Regardin' the fleet when Lord Nelson set sail.'

"Fill me out another cup of tea, Hebe."

It was a pleasant little fiction with the captain to call his beverage "tea". Minnie filled out a small cupful of the contents of the little teapot, which did, indeed, resemble tea, but which smelt marvellously like hot rum and water.