CHAPTER X.

THE BOATSWAIN'S YARN.

"Now past the limit, which his course divides, When to the north the sun's bright chariot rides; We leave the winding bays, and swarthy shores, Where Senegal's black wave impetuous roars; And now from far the Libyan Cape is seen, Since by my mandate called the Cape of Green." _The Lusiad._

Jamie Gair had the stroke oar, and Borthwick the other; they bent all their energies to the task of pulling the boat against an ebb-tide, which was fast leaving bare and dry the Drumilaw Sands, and the long stretch of desolate beach at the promontory known as the Buddonness. Jamie kept his ears open to catch any passing remark from the high-born traitors who occupied the stern-sheets of his boat; but, full of their own dark thoughts, they remained silent until she was within a bowshot of the beach, when the Laird of Sauchie said,--

"So, on the evening of the 10th, we must have this dame sailing merrily at sea! A perilous promise!"

"Perilous!" said Gray, gruffly; "how so?"

"Ken ye, Sir Patrick, what the law saith anent trysts with Englishmen?"

"I ken little, and I care less," replied the Knight of Kyneff, doggedly; "but what says it?"

"That if any Englishman enter the kingdom of Scotland, without the sign-manual of the king, and is found at kirk or market, or in any other place, he shall be the lawful prisoner of whoever chooses to seize him. That the Scot who brings an Englishman to tryst, shall be committed to ward, and have his goods escheat. For such are the laws of James II. and his parliament of 1455."

"Well, we who are barons of parliament, and make the laws, have assuredly the power of breaking them. Besides, he who can lead a thousand lances to the king's host, can make laws to suit himself."

"But how know ye not, Sir Patrick, but this fellow Borthwick may betray us."

"He dare not mar his profit and our own."

"The boatman, then--he might suspect us--yea, might speak."

"Assure me of that," hissed the low, deep voice of Gray, "and I will drive this poniard into his brisket."

Jamie's heart leaped, and he grasped his oar tighter; but at that moment the boat grounded on the beach, and, while they sprang ashore, he hooked his kedge-anchor in the sand, placed the oars on his shoulder, and doffing his bonnet to his honourable employers, turned away towards the red light that yet streamed from his cottage window.

"Be discreet, good fellow," said Shaw, in an impressive whisper, as he placed a coin in Jamie's hand. "Now, fare ye well, carle, and God speed ye."

"Be close as a steel-vice, Jamie Gair," added Borthwick, "lest I tell the Lord Chamberlain that there is a rookery in the trees at thy kailyard, and thou shalt be sorely fined, and mayhap imprisoned in Broughty; for Beltane time is past, the corn is ripening, and thou knowest the law."

With these warnings they left him, and, muffled in their cloaks, strode hastily along the beach, towards where the outline of Broughty, square, black, and grim, on its rock that jutted into the ferry, rose between them and the starlit sky--for now the clouds had disappeared, but the moon had waned. Jamie turned to look after the English ship, but though almost shrouded in haze, he could perceive her standing off towards the south-east with all her sails set.

"An angel--a golden angel!" said Jamie, turning over the bright coin in his hard hand. "By my saul, there maun be some dark plot in the wind when these limbs o' Satan pay sae weel! Jamie Gair, Jamie Gair! tak ye tent; for this braw fee may never bring aught but dool and sorrow to thee and thine. Now to kiss my doo Mary, and then, ho for the admiral! for he shall hear o' this hellicate job, though I should never see another sun blink down the Carse o' Gowrie."

Entering his cottage softly, this honest fellow found his blooming Mary asleep by the warm ingle. The fire had smouldered on the hearth, and the stappit-haddie had been allowed to burn; but the bicker of spiced ale stood yet by the wooden fender. Jamie took a long draught, wiped his mustachios with the back of his brown hand, kissed Mary, and awoke her.

"Where awa noo, gudeman?" she asked, perceiving that he took up his walking-staff.

"Dundee, lass."

"Dundee, at this time o' the morning, when you should be beside me in your bed. And mind, ye maun awa to the fishing-ground by sun-rise, Jamie."

"Na, na, lass, I have other bait to my line. There has been foul treason on the water this night, Mary, and I maun e'en seek the admiral; but, 'odsake, say nae word o' this to the neighbours, or the hellicate Captain o' Broughty may mak ye a widow before your time, lassie. In a siccar place, put by the braw gowden fee, till we see what comes o't, lest dool and disgrace fa' on us. And now, lass, fare ye well;" and pulling his broad bonnet over his face, Jamie departed for Dundee.

The keep of Broughty was reddening in the rising sun, as the fisherman passed it, on the landward side, for safety and concealment, keeping as much as possible among the whins and other wild bushes that grew on the margin of the wide salt marsh which then stretched from the barbican of the fortress round by the hill of Balgillo. The tide had ebbed; the sands of Moniefreth and Barry were dry, and the bare promontory of the Buddonness stretched far into that blue sea, on which the three English ships were then diminished to mere specks. Jamie gave a last glance to ascertain their course, and hurried on towards the town.

The summer morning was beautiful; the Tay lay in its basin like a sheet of glass, on which the ships, the town, and sunlit hills were mirrored. The midsummer flowers were mingling with the bluebells, the crimson foxglove and wild hollyhock; the hill of Balgillo, with the desert muirland that lay at its base, were waving with purple heather-cups. The fisherman's heart expanded joyously with the beauty of the opening day; and after hurrying past the old castle of Claypotts, then a seat of the Abbot of Lindores, he reverently said a short prayer to St. Peter, the patron of his craft, in the little chapel of St. Rocque of Narbonne, which stood without the Cowgait-porte, on the east side of the Bitter Burn. This little fane, like all other holy edifices in that age, remained open night and day; and in the principal shrine stood an image of the saint, having the left breast marked by the cross which appeared upon his bosom when born into the world. A little burying-ground encircled the cell. From thence a narrow lane, causewayed with large round sea-stones, and encumbered by outside stairs which ascended upward to the houses or descended downward to the cellars, where the merchants were beginning to display their wares, led to the centre of the town, and to the Kirk of St. Clement, near which another narrow lane then led directly towards the harbour.

The streets were then unpaved, and were full of gleds and corbies, which squattered and fed on the offal of the narrow wynds and fleshers' stalls.

Some of the loiterers at the Craig of St. Nicholas readily permitted Jamie to use their boat, and in a few minutes he found himself on the ample deck of his Majesty's _Yellow Frigate_, which was riding with her head to the stream, her yards all squared to perfection, her black rigging all taut as iron rods, and her broad blue ensign and pennon flaunting in the morning wind.

The watch on deck crowded about the early visitor.

"Welcome on board, Jamie Gair," said Master Wad the gunner, who was in charge of the deck, and was a short-legged personage, with a red visage, enormous black beard, and stunted figure, encased in a rough grey gaberdine; "what na wind hath blawn ye here betimes? Are ye tired o' your lubberly trade o' fisherman, and come to take service under the broad pennon o' the admiral? I marvel muckle ye have na tired lang syne o' sailing ilka morning to that weary fishing-ground, like the son o' a shotten herring. I would rather drink bilge-water a' my days, than turn fisherman again."

"My best anchor--my bonnie Mary--is still at hame, Maister Wad," retorted Jamie; "but we a' ken how your Tib broke from her moorings and went adrift, naebody kens where."

"Tut--I have ten Marys as gude as yours," replied the gunner, "forbye a Meinie and a Peg to boot."

"I have nae time for daffin the noo, Maister Wad. Is the admiral on board?"

"No--he is at the king's lodging, and has no come off yet; but what would ye wi' _him_?"

"That which you maunna hear, Willie. Then, is the Captain Barton on board?"

"No--he, Sir David Falconer, and a' body else (but the chaplain) are ashore at St. Margaret's."

Gair stamped his foot, and scratched his beard impatiently.

"Can ye no tell us what's in the wind, man?" asked the seamen, as they clustered about him, in surprise at his excitement.

"Come," said Cuddie the coxswain, "what can _you_ have to tell the admiral that we canna hear? Out wi' it, hand owre hand, man."

"It's something that will find ye a' work for a week to come, something that may knock the harns out o' half your heads," replied Gair, angrily.

"I have seen foul weather in my time, brother," growled Archy of Anster, the boatswain; "and I have seen some gey het work, too, between the English Channel and the Rock o' Lisbon; but I marvel what the deil ye drive at, Gair!"

"May I never drink aught but black bilge-water, if I dinna think him clean daft," added the gunner; "but he canna see the admiral till mid-day, when the kind's council breaks up; sae, Jamie, after Father Zuill hath piped all hands to mass, you had better just take your breakfast wi' us, like a douce man, and meet the admiral after, when tide and time suit."

Aware that he could not entrust his secret with the seamen, among whom it would have spread like wildfire, and cost him, perhaps, his life--for a word from Sir James Shaw, or the tyrannical captain of Broughty, would be sufficient to hang a poor fisherman among the rooks that Borthwick spoke of--Jamie was obliged to exert his patience, and join the seamen at their mess of Lammas ale and porridge in the forecastle, where, after this humble repast was ever, Master Wad produced his fiddle, and, after mass was done and the chaplain gone ashore, sung the famous ditty, still known to our fishermen, of the

"Four-and-twenty mermaids, who left the port of Leith, To tempt the fine auld hermit, who dwelt upon Inchkeith; Nor boat, nor waft, nor crayer, nor craft had they, nor oars or sails, Their lily hands were oars enough, their tillers were their tails," &c.

"I could tell ye something mair wonderful than the mermaiden's voyage, brother," said the grey-haired boatswain, who dearly loved to spin a yarn whenever he could get listeners. He was a rough-visaged Scot, with two great red-spotted cheekbones, a nose that had a sword-cut across it, and which stuck out between two enormous whiskers that mingled with his grisly beard. "Our gude chaplain thinks to discover a process whereby he can make ships proof to the shot of culverins--for so he told me yesternight."

"By my faith, old Ropeyarn," said Cuddie the coxswain, who was his exact counterpart, "that will be better than muddling his brains in trying to mak burning-glasses that will set a fleet in a bleeze at a league's distance."

"Brother," said the gunner, striking his large-jointed hands together emphatically, for between such inventions, it seemed not improbable that his profession would prove a useless one; "brother, I ken navagation as weel as maist men; I have run all Europe down twenty times, frae the North Cape to the Gut o' Gibraltar--ay, I have seen the Rio Grande, and the great peak 'o the Fortunate Isles, that rises right out o' the sea like a spear-head, and flames like a torch; I have seen the sea-devils that swim round the Cape de Verd, where the glinting o' the moon makes men mad, and where St. Elmo's light dances like a will-o'-the-wisp on the main-mast heid: yet it is a blessed light, for it ever precedes a calm: but may I ne'er drink aught but bilge, if I can swallow a yarn like yours. I have seen muckle in my time, but never saw I a ship's side that would turn a cannon-shot, or a sail that had a hole burned in it by a mirror ten miles awa; yet our chaplain pretends to ken o' baith. My word on't, lads, he sails beyond his commission, and will be brought up all standing, some day, by the bishops, for sorcery, maybe."

"He is as gude a man as ever trod a plank," said the coxswain, "but his noddle hath as many crotchets as the dog-star hath rays. Minnows and mackerel! to believe in shot-proof ships!"

"Why not?" asked the boatswain, gruffly. "I'll tell ye what I have seen, messmate--a shot-proof man. Now what think ye o' that; one, at least, who was proof to steel."

"I'll tell ye when I hear, brother," replied the seaman: "was it one o' the antipodes, who walk on their heads?"

"Weel, I care na if I spin the yarn before the watch is called," said the boatswain; "but first, here is to the gude saut water, and a' that live on't!" and he poured down his capacious throat the last of the ale, and after wiping his mouth three or four times with the cuff of his gaberdine, spitting twice through an open port, and fixing his eyes on the beam overhead, he thrust his hands into his pockets, placed his logs on the deck, his back against a gun-carriage, and began thus:--

"Ye maun ken, messmates, that after leaving the Gut o' Gibraltar, we were beating westward against a head-wind. Our craft was the _Peggie o' Pittenweem_, hameward bound from Barcelona, for Leith, wi' a mixed cargo o' wine and oil, fruit, cork, and hides, and Sir Andrew, the admiral, who was then but a sma' merchant-skipper, had ten brass culverins in her, forbye some braw pateraroes along her gunnel, for the behoof o' the heathen Moors o' Barbary if they daured to meddle wi' us. After losing sight o' the Castle of Gibraltar, and the chapels of our Lady of Europe and our Lady of Africa, that stand on ilka shore, the wind veered round to the north-west, and we were obliged to bear right away before it for well nigh a week, till we had mony fears o' being blawn round Cape None, or getting into the downhill currents, that bear ships away to the southern pole; or, what is waur, being blown off the earth a'thegether: for the warld is round, ye ken, just like my bonnet," continued this ancient mariner, balancing the article named in his hands; "and flat, as ye may see, for the sun dips down to port at night, and then comes up to starboard in the morning, rising at the edge, like this penny piece. Weel, ye wad flee owre its margin if ye stood on owre long wi' your canvas set, and so be launched out into space like a hoodie craw. The ship o' auld Sir Patrick Spens was ance a' owre but the waist, when the current swept her back again, and then she hauled her wind. At last we saw the high peak o' the Fortunate Isles rising frae the sea, vomiting fire and brimstone, its side covered in one place wi' glistening snow, in another wi' a forest o' green laurel bushes, wherein the yellow birds o' the Canaries built their nests in the warm sunshine.

"The gale deid awa, and the sails flapped against the masts and rattlins; the sea became like glass, and there was sae little wind that the _Peggie_ wouldna answer her helm; but it mattered little, for Sir Andrew and auld Gibbie o' Crail had been in these seas before, and we kent our whereabouts. We were within less than half a mile o' the shore, but in fifty fathoms water by the line. There was nae current, and the ship lay like a log, wi' her decks blistering in the sun. Sir Andrew thought it wad be a gude time to get fresh water, for our last pint was in the scuttlebutt; sae we hove up twelve casks, the crews o' the yawl and pinnace were piped awa, and cheerily we shipped our oars, and pulled for the shore, as I weel mind, singing merrily the auld ballad,--

"'Oh, who is he has dune this deed, And tauld the king o' me, And sent us oot at this time o' year, To sail upon the sea?'

Every man o' us had a durk and gude braid Banffshire whinger in his belt, forbye ten that were armed wi' crossbows, for Sir Andrew kent of auld that the Guanchos o' the Fortunate Isles were unchancey chields to warsle wi'. Gibbie o' Crail, wha had served wi' the Spanish buccaneers under the Captain Bocca Roxa (he whom Barton slew off Cape Ortegal), tauld us that they had once landed there, and put a hail village to fire and sword, and that wi' his ain hand he had killed the prince o' the place by a slash _across the nose_ wi' his boarding-axe.

"We landed at a sma' bit creek among black rocks, covered wi' ashes, dust, and pumice-stane; but among them grew the green sugar-cane, the olive, and the bonnie cotton-tree. The wee birds wi' their gouden wings flew aboot frae branch to branch, singing in the bright sunshine. A' the sweets o' summer were there, and they wiled mony o' our messmates awa frae the wark o' filling and bunging the water-casks to stray in the laurel woods that grow on the base o' that tremendous peak, which is five leagues nigh frae the water-line to the Deil's Cauldron on the tap, where the red brimstone burns day and night. Ay, Jamie Gair, ye think muckle o' the craigs o' Dunnotter; but I wish ye saw Adam's Peak, in the Fortunate Isles!

"The fresh water was delightful as milk, and the grapes that hung owre the pumice-stane rocks were sweeter than heather honey; and sae, despite Sir Andrew's orders, twa or three o' us, including Sandie Mathieson, a Leith man, strayed a mile or mair into the island, flinging our braid bonnets after the gouden birds, eating grapes and wild honey in some places, tumbling knee-deep in soft sulphur and spongy pumice-stane, until we found the entrance o' a cave, for a' the warld like ane o' the weems in the Fife, and, sailor-like, we scrambled in to see what was there, and my faith, messmates, we saw a sicht to mind o'!

"In that cave were mair than twa hundred deid corpses, a rankit up in rows against the walls; for it was a burial place for the Guanchos, who, instead of putting their deid like Christians into a grave, bathe and parboil them in butter and wild lavender, black gum and wild sage--for sae Father Zuill told me; and after drying them in the sunshine in summer, and the cauld breezes in winter, they sow them up in goatskins, and then the mummies are hard as a ship's figure-head, yea, and harder, for they will never decay; and there they stood, twa hundred or mair, wi' their tanned visages and sichtless eyen, their hair and beards all brushed and plaited, and as if they yet lived; and oh, there was an awesome grin on their shrivelled maws!

"It was a sight even for a sailor to scunner at, and we glowered at them for awhile, ilk ane o' us ashamed to be the first to put up his helm and be off. At last Gibbie o' Crail, an auld sea-horse, that feared nocht, and had mair owre a gude dram under his hatches, began to examine them, in the hope of finding some braw goud or trinket; and solemnly Mathieson and I warned him to let the deid corpses alane; but he laughed, and tumbled them owre like nine-pins. There was ane, a great stark and brawny corpse, wi' a lang scar across its nose, and twa precious stanes, like emeralds, glinting where its eyen should be. Gibbie said, wi' an oath, that he was sure it was the prince o' the Guanchos, whom he had slain twenty years before, and wi' a dab o' his jocketeleg, picked out one of the emeralds. But lo!

"At that moment the jaws opened, and there came frae them a yell that shook the dust frae the cavern roof; that seemed to mak the corpses start, and made Gibbie spring ten feet awa; and then we turned and fled, wi' every hair on our heids bristling; and without ever daring ance to look astern, we cam' plunging doon the side o' the peak, through the laurel bushes and owre the sulphur banks, till we reached the creek, where the yawl and the pinnace, wi' the last o' the water-casks, were about putting off, and mair deid than alive wi' terror, we sprang on board. We were just in time to reach the boats and get a rope's-ending for disobeying orders; for though Sir Andrew was but a skipper then, as I tauld ye, he kept a tight hand owre his crew."

"May I drink bilge if ever I--" began the gunner.

"That evening a favourable breeze sprang up, and we bore away for hame: but as the gloaming fell that breeze freshened to a gale, the rain sowed the sea, and the red lightning flashed at the far horizon. Gibbie, Mathieson, and I were on the first nicht-watch; we were restless, and fearfu' o' coming evil, and we nestled in our storm doublets under the lee o' the foremast; and though we would a' hae fain spoken o' that awesome adventure, we never once referred to it; but sat listening to the dreary wind, as it whistled under the leech o' the foresail, or watching the waves that ran past us, like lang black ridges o' ink. A' at ance an unco blast took us a' aback! Sir Andrew jumped on deck in a moment, and ordered us to double-reef the mainsail and fore topsail; and after this it became sae dark and eerie, that we couldna see a crossbow-shot ahead.

"Amid the soughin' o' the wind and the hiss o' the waves we heard a strange cry rising from that terrible sea--a cry that made our blood curdle! We rushed to the weather-bow, and after a time could discern a man's head, as he rose at times, bobbing like a fisherman's float upon the crests of the foaming ocean, or as he sank doon into its gloomy trough; but again and again the eldritch cry went past us on the gusty wind.

"'A man overboard!' cried Sir Andrew through his trumpet; 'and in sic a sea! Forecastle there--see ye anything, lads?'

"I kenna what possessed us, but none o' us made any answer. To back the foreyard or render any assistance were, we thought, impossible; but Sir Andrew, wha does mony a thing other men would never think o', on hearing the first cry, knotted a line to a handspike, and getting a glimpse o' the man in the water as he was swept past our bows, flung it right at him like a harpoon, and we saw him catch it--yea, almost without an effort, as it seemed. Then the starboard watch, who had come on deck, towed him aboard, and he cam' up the ship's side by the main chains, like a cat or a squirrel, and stood dripping wet among us, a strong and sturdy child, wi' a brown skin, and grisly and matted hair. Gibbie held up a ship's lantern to tak' a view o' his face, and then I saw that he was almost bare bones, brawn, and skin, wi' a long scar _across his nose_, and but one eye, that glittered like green glass, while the other socket was _empty_, like a walnut-shell. We felt as if the deck would open under our teet, for we knew it was the dead Guancho!

"I could feel puir Gibbie tremble as we slunk forward, leaving the skipper and crew to question the stranger, whose answers satisfied them, I suppose, but we couldna hear them for the lashing o' the sea and roaring o' the wind, as it soughed through the rigging. A can o' usquebaugh was offered to the Guancho, but he shook his head; and then clothes were offered him, but he preferred his ain, a pair o' goat-skin breeks with the hair on the outside. The wind shifted--the squalls cam' oftener, and in a wee while Sir Andrew had stripped the _Peggie_ to her staysail and trysail; we sounded the pumps, and had twa men at the tiller; all hands were on deck, and though the crew muttered doubtfully and fearfully under their beards to ilk other anent the strange loon that had come on board in sic weather, there were none that shared the terror o' Sandie, Gibbie, and mysel', for in our hearts we kent that a deid corpse was sailing wi' us on that mirk midnight sea, and that the ship and a' its companie were doomed! The wind was still roaring, and about three bells in the middle-watch the staysail gave way, and I heard Sir Andrew shout through his trumpet,--

"'Yare, yare, my lads! down wi' the staysail--bend on the sheet and right it again.'

"We three rushed to obey the order, but the ship broached to, and before we could recover her again, and while that devilish Guancho uttered an eldritch yell, a sea took her right on the broadside, and burst over the decks, sweeping boats, booms, scuttlebutt, skylights, and four men overboard; but the masts o' pine frae Falkland Woods stood brawly, and then we let her drive before the storm. We were certain the _Peggie_ was a doomed ship now, unless we got rid o' the fiend that was aboard o' her; and we three consulted in what manner it should be dune. As yet the nicht was dark as pitch tar; no' a ray o' light was glimmering, and we saw the Guancho standing by the weather fore-rigging, wi' his one eye shining at times like a green star. Gibbie, who was a ferocious auld buckie, proposed to gie him a cloure wi' a capstan-bar, or a dab wi' his durk, while we should chuck him overboard; and wi' our hearts fu' o' fear and hatred, we resolved upon this, for we dreaded sairly lest our crew should be washed awa man by man, and we be left alane wi' the Guancho, and led to destruction. It was an unco wild night, and noo the lightning glinted between the scudding clouds breaking sea wi' a green and ghastly glare.

"Wi' muckle o' fear and mair o' desperation in our hearts, we drew near the Guancho, who stood by the gunnel grinning at the passing waves. None could see us, either forward or aft, for the crew were busy enough, and kept aloof frae the stranger.

"'Heave, Gibbie, heave, and wi' a will!' cried I, as I grasped him by the breeks. Gibbie took his heels, and we shot him richt owre into the deep black trough o' the hungry sea; and then on swept the ship, like a shot frae a culver in, and as if relieved o' half her cargo.

"'Mony hands mak licht wark,' said Sandie.

"'But the Lord forgie us if we hae dune wrang,' quo' I, taking off my bonnet at His name.

"'Wrang!' growled Gibbie; 'wrang to drown a deid man! I could swear that his ankles were but dry banes as I hove him owre the bulwark.'

"The _Peggie_ laboured hard and creaked in a' her timbers, the wind howled, and now a wave like Ailsa Craig came roaring after her.

"'Beware, my lads, beware fore and aft!' cried Sir Andrew through his trumpet. The three of us grasped the starboard rattlins, and at that moment another heavy sea poured like a torrent owre the decks o' the _Peggie_. Our mate, Mathieson's brother, and another seaman were swept away; for a time, the ship trembled and was settling down. By my life, had one more wave like that rolled on her, she had gane doon into the trough and never risen mair; but the water ran off her; she swam like a duck, and again shot on, though the foresail was splitting to ribbons.

"'St. Clement be near us!' whispered Gibbie. 'Look, Archy--look Sandy!' and there, just where we had pitched him owerboard, was the Guancho, standing by the starboard gunnel, grinning and laughing as before. Naebody on deck had missed him, and nane but oursels kent that the same sea which had swept awa our mate, had washed the storm-fiend on board again.

"Towards morning the gale subsided, and the grey daylicht cam in through a mirk and louring sky, to brighten a rowing sea. We were cheerless and sad. The men muttered among themsels, and were aye in pairs, keeping aloof frae their unco shipmate; and even Sir Andrew liked him but little, and promised that he should be set upon the first land we came to. For five days we drifted about, and wist not where we were; for, as the sun was hidden, our captain couldna win an observation wi' the cross-staff. He asserted that we were blown right out into the Atlantic, where never ship sailed before; but Gibbie, wha kent these seas o' auld, averred that we would sune mak the coast o' Mogadore, which belonged to the king o' the Moors. Yet our brave captain proved to be right.

"For these five days and nights, the Guancho did nocht else but mope about the deck, and grin whenever Gibbie cam near him; but our men worked hard to repair the damage o' the gale. We bent on four new sails, reeved some o' the rigging anew, shipped a new foretopmast, and, after taking an observation, bore away for Madeira.

"Gibbie aye gied the Guancho a wide berth on deck, and kept as much aloft as possible. For three hail days he sat perched in the craw's-nest; and three times I took the tiller for him at night, as he was ever in mortal terror when the awesome thing cam nigh him. We crowded every stitch o' canvas, carrying mair o' nights than the skipper kent o'; and twice nearly ran the _Peggie_ under water, in our eagerness to reach the land. A this time the Guancho ate little or nocht, but a grain or sae o' maize; and mony o' our men, wha, owercome wi' weariness, had slept on their watch, had frightfu' dreams, and averred that the Guancho pressed their throats in the night and sucked their blood; for they fand bite-marks about their necks in the morning;--but then the _Peggie_ was swarming wi' Norway rottens. The terror increased; men spoke in whispers; and day by day, this awsome Guancho sat in the lee scuppers, motionless as if deid, and only moved and girned when Gibbie drew near or passed it, which he aye did sidelong, wi' his hand on his durk; and three times the thing pointed to his eyeless socket, from whilk Gibbie had howked the shining stane.

"On the fifth night o' this horrid voyage, Mathieson and I had the foretop. We were on the look-out for land. The _Peggie_ was going free, about eight knots or sae; and having now to take his helm, Gibbie stood by the binnacle, and, Gude kens, we watched the deck mair than the horizon for four hours o' that dreary night. The Guancho sat, as usual, in the lee scuppers, and a wet berth it was. About the middle-watch, we saw him rise and creep towards Gibbie, whose een were fixed on the sails--for he was a gude steersman, and aye loed to keep them full. I think I see him noo, as he stood wi' his siller hair and red face glinting in the light o' the binnacle lamps; his feet planted firm on the deck, and his hands gripping the lion's head that was carved on the tiller-end; and he sawna the fiend that drew nigh him!

"'Deck ho!' I shouted. 'Gibbie, man--mind yoursel!' but the wind swept my cry to leeward; and a' at ance the Guancho sprang upon the puir helmsman--there was a despairing cry, an eldritch yell, and the demon dashed him against the larboard stanchions, a breathless and a brainless corpse.

"Wi' the wild cry that rose frae the deck, a' was owre!

"Unhanded, the tiller swayed frae side to side; the vessel fell awa round like lightning; her canvas was a' taen aback, and her topmasts went crash to leeward by the caps. We were a wreck in a moment.

"In a trice Sir Andrew was on deck. Sandy and I cam doon the backstay by the run, and 'out hatchets' was the word, to dear us of the wreck; and under the foresail, mainsail, and gib, we entered the roads of Funchal, and anchored off the Castle of St. James, to refit, procure fresh water, Madeira, hock, and provisions."

"But what o' this deevil wi' the green ee?" asked Willie Wad, impatiently.

"Anger got the better o' our fear. We sprang upon him the moment the ship was safe; a desperate tulzie began, for every blow o' his bony hands was like a cloure frae a smith's hammer, and he knocked our best men owre like ninepins; his eldritch yells were like the whistling wind, and he laughed and kicked, when at last we laid him sprawling on the deck, and, while our hearts boiled wi' fear and fury, lashed him hard and fast by neck and heels to ringbolts. Some proposed to heave him overboard, wi' a shot at his craig, but Sir Andrew wouldna hear o' that; and as soon as we dropped anchor at Funchal, the Guancho was handed owre to the Dominicans and the Commander of the Order of Christ, who put him in a vault o' the Castle of St. James, to thole a trial for sorcery and murder. Our story filled a' Funchal wi' terror and consternation. A lang procession o' Dominican Fathers, carrying relics, crosses, banners, and holy-water pots, marched to the Castle o' St. James, to exorcise the demon; and the holy-water, when it fell frae the asperges on his brown hide, hissed as if it sputtered on iron in a white heat, and he girned at the priests like a marmoset. At last, finding that exorcism and blessed water were used alike in vain, the Portuguese Dominicans and the Knights of Christ betuik themsels to prayer, and after solemn high mass is the great church, visited the Guancho again.

"They found him free o' his fetters, and laughing like a wild imp, while he gied the finishing strokes to a great galley or boat, which he had chalked, wi' its sails set, and twenty rowers at their paddles, on his dungeon wall. They marvelled sairly at this strange employment, for one wha's funeral fire stood burning in the castle yard; but a glamour was owre them, and nane dared approach him.

"Then the brown deevil drew the waves below the galley sae lifelike, that _they_ seemed to roll and _it_ to heave, while the rowers began to paddle, and a low wild chant was heard, as they a paddled and kept time. Then he drew a ladder, wi' two perpendicular strokes and sax horizontal ones; and then he _stepped on board_, wi' anither o' his eldritch yells. The rowers began to paddle harder than ever, and while their sang died awa, it sailed clean off the wall wi' him, and left ne'er a trace behind.

"A Knight of Christ sprang forward, but the place was empty, clear o' its evil tenant, and no a vestige o' the fairy-ship remained upon the dungeon wall. Noo, what think ye o' _that_ story, messmates?"

"By my faith, I would rather drink bilge a' my days than once sail the sea wi' a deevil in the ship's companie," said Willie Wad.

"Puir Gibbie o' Crail ended his life as I told ye, and sleeps in his hammock among the mermaids," said the boatswain, rising from the gun-carriage; "but Sandy, our messmate, hath left me a lang way astern, for he is now Sir Alexander Mathieson, Knight--_the King of the Sea_, and captain o' yonder gallant caravel, while I am only auld Archy the boatswain. And, see, yonder his barge is shoved off frae the Craig o' St. Nicholas, and pulled straight for the _Queen Margaret_."

"Which shows that the king's council maun e'en be owre, and 'tis time I were awa to the Admiral," said Jamie Gair, as through an open gun-port, the gilded boat referred to, was seen to leave the rock of St. Nicholas, with a banner waving at its stern, where three or four gentlemen, wearing rich dresses, were seated; and, with sixteen bright-bladed oars flashing in the meridian sun, it was pulled across the shining river directly towards the consort of the _Yellow Frigate_.