“I winna touch the siller,” said Sandys, moodily.

“What?” cried Gavinia.

“I tell you it’s a bribe.”

“Do you hear him?” screamed Gavinia.  “He says we’re no to lay hands on’t!  Corp, where’s your tongue?”

But even in that trying moment Corp’s trust in Tommy shone out beautiful and strong.  “Dinna be feared, Gavinia,” he whispered, “he’ll find a wy.”

“Lights out and follow Stroke!” was the order, and the crew at once scattered in pursuit, Mr. Sandys remaining behind a moment to—­to put something in his pocket.

Mr. McLean gave them a long chase, walking demurely when lovers were in sight, but at other times doubling, jumping, even standing on eminences and crowing insultingly, like a cock, and not until he had only breath left to chuckle did the stout man vanish from the Den.  Elspeth, now a cabin-boy, was so shaken by the realism of the night’s adventures that Gavinia (able seaman) took her home, and when Mr. Sandys and his Boatswain met at the Cuttle Well neither could tell where Grizel was.

“She had no business to munt without my leave,” Tommy said sulkily.

“No, she hadna.  Is she the Lady Griselda yet?”

“Not her, she’s the Commander’s wife.”

Ben shook his head, for this, he felt, was the one thing Tommy could not do.  “Well, then,” growled Tommy, “if she winna be that, she’ll have to serve before the mast, for I tell you plain I’ll have no single women on board.”

“And what am I, forby Ben the Boatswain?”

“Nothing.  Honest men has just one name.”

“What!  I’m just one single man?” Corp was a little crestfallen.  “It’s a come down,” he said, with a sigh, “mind, I dinna grumble, but it’s a come down.”

“And you dinna have ‘Methinks’ now either,” Tommy announced pitilessly.

Corp had dreaded this.  “I’ll be gey an’ lonely without it,” he said, with some dignity, “and it was the usefulest swear I kent o’.  ‘Methinks!’ I used to roar at Mason Malcolm’s collie, and the crittur came in ahint in a swite o’ fear.  Losh, Tommy, is that you blooding?”

There was indeed an ugly gash on Tommy’s hand.  “You’ve been hacking at yoursel’ again,” said the distressed Corp, who knew that in his enthusiasm Tommy had more than once drawn blood from himself.  “When you take it a’ so real as that,” he said, uncomfortably “I near think we should give it up.”

Tommy stamped his foot.  “Take tent o’ yoursel’!” he cried threateningly.  “When I was tracking Stroke I fell in with one of his men, and we had a tussle.  He pinked me in the hand, but ’tis only a scratch, bah!  He was carrying treasure, and I took it from him.”

Ben whistled.  “Five shillings?” he asked, slapping his knee.

“How did you know?” demanded Tommy, frowning, and then they tried to stare each other down.

“I thought I saw you pouching it,” Corp ventured to say.

“Boatswain!”