The two skippers were forming surmises, and were at last consoling themselves that it was some playful trick of the bailie’s, when Marshall whispered through the skylight that a boat with seven men in it was pulling towards the ship.

“Show them down if they come aboard, then,” ordered Gordon.

And Captain Miller rushed into the pantry to hide, dreading something serious; for he had let it out to us that he had been “on the spree” the night before, and was not the quietest of the company of which he had been a member.  He locked the pantry door as he heard footsteps on the companion ladder.

Two men entered the cabin.  One was a big seafaring man with a weatherbeaten face.  The very appearance of his companion betrayed the fact that he was the “officer from Kirkwall.”

“Beautiful morning this!” observed the big man, addressing Captain Gordon.  Then after a pause he added:  “We have just come, captain, to ask the favour of your company with us to Kirkwall.  The officer here has a summons for you, I believe, and also one for Captain Miller of the Albatross, who is not at present on his ship.”

Here a deep groan came from the direction of the pantry.

“A summons!” echoed Gordon.  “What—­why—­what d’ye mean?  What have I been doing?”

“Oh! my dear sir,” returned the officer from Kirkwall, “you do not seem to understand the nature of the thing.  You have done nothing at all, my dear sir.  We only want you to come to Kirkwall as a witness in the case of assault—­’Kinlay versus Paterson’—­to be tried today at Kirkwall.”

“Oh! then, if that’s all, I’m here,” said Captain Miller, coming in from the pantry and adjusting his coat.

“That is,” said the man with the weatherbeaten face, supplementing the officer’s explanation—­“that is the case of the broken nose, captain.  Now, we—­that is, Mr. Watt and myself—­have nothing to do with it, really and truly; but the matter is just this, we are anxious to clear off Jack Paterson, who is in our boat alongside with us—­”

Here the speaker was interrupted by the appearance of Captain Abernethy.

“Come on, Gordon, old boy!” said he; “come along.  I’m going to pay all expenses, every penny of them.  I’m willing to sport a thousand pounds to clear Jack Paterson.  Only to think of that scurvy rascal Kinlay bringing up Jack, and him with a wife and a whole crew of young children.  Shall we allow it?  No; not if I can help it.  Come along!”

Abernethy was generous, certainly.  He had lately, as I heard, fallen heir to the sum of five hundred pounds sterling, and his willingness to “sport” his thousands on every important occasion was one of his chief characteristics at this period.

“But how far is this place Kirkwall?” asked Captain Gordon.  “How long will it take us to get there?”

“How far!  Oh! only a matter of a few hours’ sail,” said Abernethy.  “I’ve got my pinnace out, and we’ll have a fine jaunt.  Come along!”