. But for the honour of
Scotland, the poor tenant bodies take a thought upon their chief lying
in exile; and this money is a part of that very rent for which King
George is looking. Now, sir, ye seem to me to be a man that understands
things: bring this money within the reach of Government, and how much of
it'll come to you?"

"Little enough, to be sure," said Hoseason; and then, "if they, knew" he
added, drily. "But I think, if I was to try, that I could hold my tongue
about it."

"Ah, but I'll begowk* ye there!" cried the gentleman. "Play me false,
and I'll play you cunning. If a hand is laid upon me, they shall ken
what money it is."

*Befool.

"Well," returned the captain, "what must be must. Sixty guineas, and
done. Here's my hand upon it."

"And here's mine," said the other.

And thereupon the captain went out (rather hurriedly, I thought), and
left me alone in the round-house with the stranger.

At that period (so soon after the forty-five) there were many exiled
gentlemen coming back at the peril of their lives, either to see their
friends or to collect a little money; and as for the Highland chiefs
that had been forfeited, it was a common matter of talk how their
tenants would stint themselves to send them money, and their clansmen
outface the soldiery to get it in, and run the gauntlet of our great
navy to carry it across. All this I had, of course, heard tell of; and
now I had a man under my eyes whose life was forfeit on all these counts
and upon one more, for he was not only a rebel and a smuggler of rents,
but had taken service with King Louis of France. And as if all this
were not enough, he had a belt full of golden guineas round his loins.
Whatever my opinions, I could not look on such a man without a lively
interest.

"And so you're a Jacobite?" said I, as I set meat before him.

"Ay," said he, beginning to eat. "And you, by your long face, should be
a Whig?"*

* Whig or Whigamore was the cant name for those who were
loyal to King George.

"Betwixt and between," said I, not to annoy him; for indeed I was as
good a Whig as Mr. Campbell could make me.

"And that's naething," said he. "But I'm saying, Mr.
Betwixt-and-Between," he added, "this bottle of yours is dry; and it's
hard if I'm to pay sixty guineas and be grudged a dram upon the back of
it."

"I'll go and ask for the key," said I, and stepped on deck.

The fog was as close as ever, but the swell almost down. The