"Ah, Scotland!" he pressed on, heedless of them, "God aboon kens what
she is to me! But she hasna' been ower guid to me, laddie." And he
walked to the taffrail, and stood looking astern that two men who had
come aft to splice a haulyard might not perceive his disorder. I
followed him, emboldened to speak at last what was in me.

"Captain Paul," said I, "MacMuir has told me of your trouble. My
grandfather is rich, and not lacking in gratitude,"--here I paused for
suitable words, as I could not solve his expression,--"you, sir, whose
bravery and charity will have restored me to him, shall not want for
friends and money."

He heard me through.

"Mr. Carvel," he replied with an impressiveness that took me aback,
"reward is a thing that should not be spoken of between gentlemen."

And thus he left me, upbraiding myself that I should have mentioned
money. And yet, I reflected secondly, why not? He was no more nor less
than a master of a merchantman, and surely nothing was out of the common
in such a one accepting what he had honestly come by. Had my affection
for him been less sincere, had I not been racked with sympathy, I had
laughed over his notions of gentility. I resolved, however, that when I
had reached London and seen Mr. Dix, Mr. Carvel's agent, he should be
rewarded despite his scruples. And if he lost his ship, he should have
one of my grandfather's.

But at dinner he had plainly forgot any offence, and I had more cause
than ever to be puzzled over his odd mixture of confidence and aloofness.
He talked gayly on a score of subjects,--on dress, of which he was never
tired, and described ports in the Indies and South America, in a fashion
that betrayed prodigious powers of acute observation; nor did he lack for
wit when he spoke of the rich planters who had wined him, and had me much
in laughter. We fell into a merry mood, in Booth, jingling the glasses
in many toasts, for he had a list of healths to make me gasp, near as
long as the brigantine's articles,--Inez in Havana and Maraquita in
Cartagena, and Clotilde, the Creole, of Martinico, each had her separate
charm. Then there was Bess, in Kingston, the relict of a customs
official, Captain Paul relating with ingenuous gusto a midnight brush
with a lieutenant of his Majesty, in which the fair widow figured, and
showed her preference, too. But his adoration for the ladies of the more
northern colonies, he would have me to understand, was unbounded. For
example, M