Molly and Sylvia were far along the staithes by the time he got to this point of cheerfulness.  They ran on, regardless of stitches and pains in the side; on along the river bank to where the concourse of people was gathered.  There was no great length of way between the Butter Cross and the harbour; in five minutes the breathless girls were close together in the best place they could get for seeing, on the outside of the crowd; and in as short a time longer they were pressed inwards, by fresh arrivals, into the very midst of the throng.  All eyes were directed to the ship, beating her anchor just outside the bar, not a quarter of a mile away.  The custom-house officer was just gone aboard of her to receive the captain’s report of his cargo, and make due examination.  The men who had taken him out in his boat were rowing back to the shore, and brought small fragments of news when they landed a little distance from the crowd, which moved as one man to hear what was to be told.  Sylvia took a hard grasp of the hand of the older and more experienced Molly, and listened open-mouthed to the answers she was extracting from a gruff old sailor she happened to find near her.

‘What ship is she?’

‘T’ Resolution of Monkshaven!’ said he, indignantly, as if any goose might have known that.

‘An’ a good Resolution, and a blessed ship she’s been to me,’ piped out an old woman, close at Mary’s elbow.  ’She’s brought me home my ae’ lad—­for he shouted to yon boatman to bid him tell me he was well.  ‘Tell Peggy Christison,’ says he (my name is Margaret Christison)—­’tell Peggy Christison as her son Hezekiah is come back safe and sound.’  The Lord’s name be praised!  An’ me a widow as never thought to see my lad again!’

It seemed as if everybody relied on every one else’s sympathy in that hour of great joy.

’I ax pardon, but if you’d gie me just a bit of elbow-room for a minute like, I’d hold my babby up, so that he might see daddy’s ship, and happen, my master might see him.  He’s four months old last Tuesday se’nnight, and his feyther’s never clapt eyne on him yet, and he wi’ a tooth through, an another just breaking, bless him!’

One or two of the better end of the Monkshaven inhabitants stood a little before Molly and Sylvia; and as they moved in compliance with the young mother’s request, they overheard some of the information these ship-owners had received from the boatman.

’Haynes says they’ll send the manifest of the cargo ashore in twenty minutes, as soon as Fishburn has looked over the casks.  Only eight whales, according to what he says.’

‘No one can tell,’ said the other, ’till the manifest comes to hand.’

’I’m afraid he’s right.  But he brings a good report of the Good Fortune.  She’s off St Abb’s Head, with something like fifteen whales to her share.’

‘We shall see how much is true, when she comes in.’

‘That’ll be by the afternoon tide to-morrow.’