'I dinna ken.I only saw him come oot o' 't ance, an' Jock Mitchell was haudin' Black Geordie roon' the neuk.It canna be far frae Mr.
Lindsay's 'at you an' Mr.Ericson used to gang till.'
'Come an' lat me see 't direckly,' cried Robert, starting up, with a terrible foreboding at his heart.
They were in the street in a moment.Shargar led the way by a country lane to the top of the hill on the right, and then turning to the left, brought him to some houses standing well apart from each other.It was a region unknown to Robert.They were the backs of the houses of which Mr.Lindsay's was one.
'This is the hoose,' said Shargar.
Robert rushed into action.He knocked at the door.Mr.Lindsay's Jenny opened it.
'Is yer mistress in, Jenny?' he asked at once.
'Na.Ay.The maister's gane to Bors Castle.'
'It's Miss Lindsay I want to see.'
'She's up in her ain room wi' a sair heid.'
Robert looked her hard in the face, and knew she was lying.
'I want to see her verra partic'lar,' he said.
'Weel, ye canna see her,' returned Jenny angrily.'I'll tell her onything ye like.'
Concluding that little was to be gained by longer parley, but quite uncertain whether Mysie was in the house or not, Robert turned to Shargar, took him by the arm, and walked away in silence.When they were beyond earshot of Jenny, who stood looking after them,'Ye're sure that's the hoose, Shargar?' said Robert quietly.
'As sure's deith, and maybe surer, for I saw him come oot wi' my ain een.'
'Weel, Shargar, it's grown something awfu' noo.It's Miss Lindsay.
Was there iver sic a villain as that Lord Rothie--that brither o'
yours!'
'I disoun 'im frae this verra 'oor,' said Shargar solemnly.
'Something maun be dune.We'll awa' to the quay, an' see what'll turn up.I wonner hoo's the tide.'
'The tide's risin'.They'll never try to win oot till it's slack watter--furbye 'at the Amphitrite, for as braid 's she is, and her bows modelled efter the cheeks o' a resurrection cherub upo' a gravestane, draws a heap o' watter: an' the bar they say 's waur to win ower nor usual: it's been gatherin' again.'
As they spoke, the boys were making for the new town, eagerly.Just opposite where the Amphitrite lay was a public-house: into that they made up their minds to go, and there to write a letter, which they would give to Miss Lindsay if they could, or, if not, leave with Skipper Hoornbeek.Before they reached the river, a thick rain of minute drops began to fall, rendering the night still darker, so that they could scarcely see the vessels from the pavement on the other side of the quay, along which they were hurrying, to avoid the cables, rings, and stone posts that made its margin dangerous in the dim light.When they came to The Smack Inn they crossed right over to reach the Amphitrite.A growing fear kept them silent as they approached her berth.It was empty.They turned and stared at each other in dismay.
One of those amphibious animals that loiter about the borders of the water was seated on a stone smoking, probably fortified against the rain by the whisky inside him.
'Whaur's the Amphitrite, Alan?' asked Shargar, for Robert was dumb with disappointment and rage.
'Half doon to Stanehive by this time, I'm thinkin',' answered Alan.
'For a brewin' tub like her, she fummles awa nae ill wi' a licht win' astarn o' her.But I'm doobtin' afore she win across the herrin-pot her fine passengers 'll win at the boddom o' their stamacks.It's like to blaw a bonnetfu', and she rows awfu' in ony win'.I dinna think she cud capsize, but for wamlin' she's waur nor a bairn with the grips.'
In absolute helplessness, the boys had let him talk on: there was nothing more to be done; and Alan was in a talkative mood.
'Fegs! gin 't come on to blaw,' he resumed, 'I wadna wonner gin they got the skipper to set them ashore at Stanehive.I heard auld Horny say something aboot lyin' to there for a bit, to tak a keg or something aboord.'
The boys looked at each other, bade Alan good-night, and walked away.
'Hoo far is 't to Stonehaven, Shargar?' said Robert.
'I dinna richtly ken.Maybe frae twal to fifteen mile.'
Robert stood still.Shargar saw his face pale as death, and contorted with the effort to control his feelings.
'Shargar,' he said, 'what am I to do? I vowed to Mr.Ericson that, gin he deid, I wad luik efter that bonny lassie.An' noo whan he's lyin' a' but deid, I hae latten her slip throu' my fingers wi' clean carelessness.What am I to do? Gin I cud only win to Stonehaven afore the Amphitrite! I cud gang aboord wi' the keg, and gin I cud do naething mair, I wad hae tried to do my best.Gin I do naething, my hert 'll brak wi' the weicht o' my shame.'
Shargar burst into a roar of laughter.Robert was on the point of knocking him down, but took him by the throat as a milder proceeding, and shook him.
'Robert! Robert!' gurgled Shargar, as soon as his choking had overcome his merriment, 'ye're an awfu' Hielan'man.Hearken to me.
I beg--g--g yer pardon.What I was thinkin' o' was--'
Robert relaxed his hold.But Shargar, notwithstanding the lesson Robert had given him, could hardly speak yet for the enjoyment of his own device.
'Gin we could only get rid o' Jock Mitchell!--' he crowed; and burst out again.
'He's wi' a wuman i' the Gallowgate,' said Robert.
'Losh, man!' exclaimed Shargar, and started off at full speed.
He was no match for his companion, however.
'Whaur the deevil are ye rinnin' till, ye wirrycow (scarecrow)?'
panted Robert, as he laid hold of his collar.
'Lat me gang, Robert,' gasped Shargar.'Losh, man! ye'll be on Black Geordie in anither ten meenits, an' me ahin' ye upo' Reid Rorie.
An' faith gin we binna at Stanehive afore the Dutchman wi' 's boddom foremost, it'll be the faut o' the horse and no o' the men.'
Robert's heart gave a bound of hope.
'Hoo 'ill ye get them, Shargar?' he asked eagerly.
'Steal them,' answered Shargar, struggling to get away from the grasp still upon his collar.
'We micht be hanged for that.'
