eadily undertook this latter office, even for
so repulsive a being; his head had indeed received a terrific blow, a
fur cap had somewhat deadened the force or he must have been killed on
the spot; she bound his head up, and in charge of the constable and two
stout laborers he was marched up to the castle. The agent after warning
the mariner to attend in the morning at his examination, going with
them, well pleased, not only to have found the man he sought, but also
to have him in such a situation that he could only choose between doing
his bidding or the gallows. The boy, had never stirred from his sleep
during this scene. The company at the ale house also broke up, and each
wended his way home, where, no doubt, each in his own way, regaled his
family with the marvels of the evening, and the seaman alone remained,
eating his supper as coolly as though nothing had happened, a combat of
life and death seeming to him a thing too common to excite any emotion
in his breast. Had it been daylight it is not likely he would have been
attacked by one man; few that gazed upon his square muscular form, his
brawny chest and strong hard hands, would have liked to cope with him in
personal conflict, though his iron grey beard told that more than fifty
years of storm had rolled over his head. His face had been handsome,
scarred with storm and conflict, it still bore the impress of manly
beauty, and there was a look of settled determination, upon it, that
told was indeed,

'In close fight a warrior grim,'

and traces of fierce passion also showed him to be one whom no one would
like for an enemy. His dress was finer than an ordinary seaman's, and
though perfectly nautical, was free from any stain of tar or pitch,
generally considered absolutely necessary in a sailor's attire. The boy
gazed intently on him as he took his meal, closing his eyes however
whenever the sailor looked at him, and preserving the appearance of
slumber.

Mrs. Ally waited with becoming patience while her guest ate his fill and
then approaching him with a brimming tumbler of punch said, 'Drink to
the memory of old times, Walter.'

'You know me then!' said he, 'strange that but one eye alone of those
who knew me in my boyhood should recognize me, but sea and storm do much
to alter a man, human passion does more.' (He spoke now without any of
the sea jargon that had made his account of the encounter with Curly Tom
almost unintelligible to the farmers); 'but,' he a