f a bit of a
snow--no matter what it was bad enough, since it frightened me--I took
French leave, and came in upon the proclamation, so I am free of all
that business. And here I sit, the skipper of the JUMPING JENNY--a
nutshell of a thing, but goes through the water like a dolphin. If it
were not for yon hypocritical scoundrel at Annan, who has the best end
of the profit, and takes none of the risk, I should be well enough--as
well as I want to be. Here is no lack of my best friend,'--touching his
case-bottle;--'but, to tell you a secret, he and I have got so used to
each other, I begin to think he is like a professed joker, that makes
your sides sore with laughing if you see him but now and then; but if
you take up house with him, he can only make your head stupid. But I
warrant the old fellow is doing the best he can for me, after all.'

'And what may that be?' said Fairford.

'He is KILLING me,' replied Nanty Ewart; 'and I am only sorry he is so
long about it.'

So saying he jumped on his feet, and, tripping up and down the deck,
gave his orders with his usual clearness and decision, notwithstanding
the considerable quantity of spirits which he had contrived to swallow
while recounting his history.

Although far from feeling well, Fairford endeavoured to rouse himself
and walk to the head of the brig, to enjoy the beautiful prospect, as
well as to take some note of the course which the vessel held. To his
great surprise, instead of standing across to the opposite shore
from which she had departed, the brig was going down the Firth, and
apparently steering into the Irish Sea. He called to Nanty Ewart, and
expressed his surprise at the course they were pursuing, and asked
why they did not stand straight across the Firth for some port in
Cumberland.

'Why, this is what I call a reasonable question, now,' answered Nanty;
'as if a ship could go as straight to its port as a horse to the stable,
or a free-trader could sail the Solway as securely as a King's cutter!
Why, I'll tell ye, brother--if I do not see a smoke on Bowness, that
is the village upon the headland yonder, I must stand out to sea for
twenty-four hours at least, for we must keep the weather-gage if there
are hawks abroad.'

'And if you do see the signal of safety, Master Ewart, what is to be
done then?'

'Why then, and in that case, I must keep off till night, and then run
you, with the kegs and the rest of the lumber, ashore at Skinburness,'

'A