“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.  They had laid the brig to, not knowing precisely where they were, and the wind (what little there was of it) not serving well for their true course.  Some of the hands were still hearkening for breakers; but the captain and the two officers were in the waist with their heads together.  It struck me (I don’t know why) that they were after no good; and the first word I heard, as I drew softly near, more than confirmed me.

It was Mr. Riach, crying out as if upon a sudden thought:  “Couldn’t we wile him out of the round-house?”

“He’s better where he is,” returned Hoseason; “he hasn’t room to use his sword.”

“Well, that’s true,” said Riach; “but he’s hard to come at.”

“Hut!” said Hoseason.  “We can get the man in talk, one upon each side, and pin him by the two arms; or if that’ll not hold, sir, we can make a run by both the doors and get him under hand before he has the time to draw.”