"Enough, enough. Come on, Macduff! Ah! Minnie, this is prime Jamaica; it's got such a--but I forgot; you don't understand nothin' about nectar of this sort."

The captain smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then said, with a sudden chuckle--

"Wasn't it odd, sister, that we should have found it all out in such an easy sort o' way? If criminals would always tell on themselves as plainly as Big Sw.a.n.kie did, there would be no use for lawyers."

"Sw.a.n.kie would not have spoken so freely," said Minnie, with a laugh, "if he had known that we were listening."

"That's true, girl," said the captain, with sudden gravity; "and I don't feel quite easy in my mind about that same eavesdropping. It's a dirty thing to do--especially for an old sailor, who likes everything to be fair and above-board; but then, you see, the natur' o' the words we couldn't help hearin' justified us in waitin' to hear more. Yes, it was quite right, as it turned out. A little more tea, Minnie. Thank'ee, la.s.s. Now go, get the case, and let us look over it again."

The girl rose, and, going to a drawer, quickly returned with a small red leather case in her hand. It was the identical jewel-case that Sw.a.n.kie had found on the dead body at the Bell Rock!

"Ah! that's it; now, let us see; let us see." He laid aside his pipe, and for some time felt all his pockets, and looked round the room, as if in search of something.

"What are you looking for, uncle?"

"The specs, la.s.s; these specs'll be the death o' me."

Minnie laughed. "They're on your brow, uncle!"

"So they are! Well, well--"

The captain smiled deprecatingly, and, drawing his chair close to the table, began to examine the box.

Its contents were a strange mixture, and it was evident that the case had not been made to hold them.

There was a lady's gold watch, of very small size, and beautifully formed; a set of ornaments, consisting of necklace, bracelets, ring, and ear-rings of turquoise and pearls set in gold, of the most delicate and exquisite chasing; also, an antique diamond cross of great beauty, besides a number of rings and bracelets of considerable value.

As the captain took these out one by one, and commented on them, he made use of Minnie's pretty hand and arm to try the effect of each, and truly the ornaments could not have found a more appropriate resting-place among the fairest ladies of the land.

Minnie submitted to be made use of in this way with a pleased and amused expression; for, while she greatly admired the costly gems, she could not help smiling at the awkwardness of the captain in putting them on.

"Read the paper again," said Minnie, after the contents of the box had been examined.

The captain took up a small parcel covered with oiled cloth, which contained a letter. Opening it, he began to read, but was interrupted by Mrs Brand, who had paid little attention to the jewels.

"Read it out loud, brother," said she, "I don't hear you well. Read it out; I love to hear of my darling's gallant deeds."

The captain cleared his throat, raised his voice, and read slowly:--

"`Lisbon, 10th March, 1808.

"`Dear Captain Brand,--I am about to quit this place for the East in a few days, and shall probably never see you again. Pray accept the accompanying case of jewels as a small token of the love and esteem in which you are held by a heart-broken father. I feel a.s.sured that if it had been in the power of man to have saved my drowning child your gallant efforts would have been successful. It was ordained otherwise; and I now pray that I may be enabled to say "G.o.d's will be done." But I cannot bear the sight of these ornaments. I have no relatives--none at least who deserve them half so well as yourself.

Do not pain me by refusing them. They may be of use to you if you are ever in want of money, being worth, I believe, between three and four hundred pounds. Of course, you cannot misunderstand my motive in mentioning this. No amount of money could in any measure represent the grat.i.tude I owe to the man who risked his life to save my child.

May G.o.d bless you, sir.'"

The letter ended thus, without signature; and the captain ceased to read aloud. But there was an addition to the letter written in pencil, in the hand of the late Captain Brand, which neither he nor Minnie had yet found courage to read to the poor widow. It ran thus:--

"Our doom is sealed. My schooner is on the Bell Rock. It is blowing a gale from the North East, and she is going to pieces fast. We are all standing under the lee of a ledge of rock--six of us. In half an hour the tide will be roaring over the spot. G.o.d in Christ help us!

It is an awful end. If this letter and box is ever found, I ask the finder to send it, with my blessing, to Mrs Brand, my beloved wife, in Arbroath."

The writing was tremulous, and the paper bore the marks of having been soiled with seaweed. It was unsigned. The writer had evidently been obliged to close it hastily.

After reading this in silence the captain refolded the letter.

"No wonder, Minnie, that Sw.a.n.kie did not dare to offer such things for sale. He would certainly have been found out. Wasn't it lucky that we heard him tell Spink the spot under his floor where he had hidden them?"

At that moment there came a low knock to the door. Minnie opened it, and admitted Davy Spink, who stood in the middle of the room twitching his cap nervously, and glancing uneasily from one to another of the party.

"Hallo, Spink!" cried the captain, pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, and gazing at the fisherman in surprise, "you don't seem to be quite easy in your mind. Hope your fortunes have not sprung a leak!"

"Weel, Captain Ogilvy, they just have; gone to the bottom, I might a'most say. I've come to tell ye--that--the fact is, that the press-gang have catched us at last, and ta'en awa' my mate, Jock Sw.a.n.kie, better kenn'd as Big Sw.a.n.kie."

"Hem--well, my lad, in so far as that does damage to you, I'm sorry for it; but as regards society at large, I rather think that Sw.a.n.kie havin'

tripped his anchor is a decided advantage. If you lose by this in one way, you gain much in another; for your mate's companionship did ye no good. Birds of a feather should flock together. You're better apart, for I believe you to be an honest man, Spink."

Davy looked at the captain in unfeigned astonishment.

"Weel, ye're the first man that iver said that, an' I thank 'ee, sir, but you're wrang, though I wush ye was right. But that's no' what I cam' to tell ye."

Here the fisherman's indecision of manner returned.

"Come, make a clean breast of it, lad. There are none here but friends."

"Weel, sir, Ruby Brand--"

He paused, and Minnie turned deadly pale, for she jumped at once to the right conclusion. The widow, on the other hand, listened for more with deep anxiety, but did not guess the truth.

"The fact is, Ruby's catched too, an' he's awa' to the wars, and he sent me to--ech, sirs! the auld wuman's fent.i.t."

Poor Widow Brand had indeed fallen back in her chair in a state bordering on insensibility. Minnie was able to restrain her feelings so as to attend to her. She and the captain raised her gently, and led her into her own room, from whence the captain returned, and shut the door behind him.

"Now, Spink," said he, "tell me all about it, an' be partic'lar."

Davy at once complied, and related all that the reader already knows, in a deep, serious tone of voice, for he felt that in the captain he had a sympathetic listener.

When he had concluded, Captain Ogilvy heaved a sigh so deep that it might have been almost considered a groan, then he sat down on his armchair, and, pointing to the chair from which the widow had recently risen, said, "Sit down, lad."

As he advanced to comply, Spink's eyes for the first time fell on the case of jewels. He started, paused, and looked with a troubled air at the captain.

"Ha!" exclaimed the latter with a grin; "you seem to know these things; old acquaintances, eh?"

"It wasna' me that stole them," said Spink hastily.

"I did not say that anyone stole them."

"Weel, I mean that--that--"

He stopped abruptly, for he felt that in whatever way he might attempt to clear himself, he would unavoidably criminate, by implication, his absent mate.