ried out,
in boldly confronting Kinlay with closed fists; and when Jack's
fellow fishermen heard what he had done their revenge was
satisfied, and they returned to their daily duties with accustomed
quietude, only agreeing in this, that thereafter Carver Kinlay was
to be recognized as the common enemy of all true Orkney men; that
he was not to be molested, but that none was to give him help in
any way soever.

Chapter XXIV. Carver Kinlay's Success.

The Lydia was laid up for about a fortnight. A slight delay in
completing her repairs was occasioned by the want of timber--a
scarce commodity in Orkney, where there are no trees--but suitable
material was procured from a homeward-bound ship. Captain Gordon
never, in my hearing, referred directly to my sister Jessie's
caution about the barque's masts; but I noticed that the new masts
were made shorter and stouter than those that had suffered in the
storm. There was also some difficulty in procuring new boats for
the ship; but Captain Flett at last found a jolly boat, and one
morning early I took it out to the Lydia.

When I went below I found Mr. Gordon sitting over his breakfast
with Marshall, his first mate. I remained talking with them for
some time, when we were interrupted by one of the ship's boys, who
came down with a note to the skipper.

Captain Gordon read it with some show of consternation.

"What can be the meaning of that, Marshall?" he asked, handing the
piece of paper across the table to the mate.

"Why, captain, I suppose you've been getting into some scrape
ashore," said Marshall.

"Scrape! I've been in no scrape," said Gordon, "unless, indeed, it
be the accident last Sunday week."

And he handed the note to me, asking if I could throw any light
upon it.

The note was from Bailie Duke, and it ran as follows:

"Be in readiness. An officer from Kirkwall will be on board of you
in a little with a summons.--Yours, &c., H. Duke."

I had hardly finished reading it when a noise as of someone
boarding was heard on deck, and presently Captain Miller of the
Albatross came rushing down the cabin stairs. He was evidently
newly out of his bunk for his face was unwashed, his hair uncombed,
and his large overcoat was roughly thrown over his sleeping
clothes.

"What the mischief does this mean?" he exclaimed throwing a note on
the table the facsimile of that which was puzzling Captain Gordon.

The two skippers were forming surmises, and were at last