The Lighthouse | Page 9

about to return to the shore, he
said--"Cheer up, Ruby; never say die so long as there's a shot in the
looker. That's the advice of an old salt, an' you'll find it sound, the more
you ponder of it. W'en a young feller sails away on the sea of life, let

him always go by chart and compass, not forgettin' to take soundin's
w'en cruisin' off a bad coast. Keep a sharp lookout to wind'ard, an' mind
yer helm--that's my advice to you lad, as ye go:--
"`A-sailin' down life's troubled stream, All as if it wor a dream.'"
The captain had a somewhat poetic fancy (at least he was impressed
with the belief that he had), and was in the habit of enforcing his
arguments by quotations from memory. When memory failed he
supplemented with original composition.
"Goodbye, lad, an' Providence go wi' ye."
"Goodbye, uncle. I need not remind you to look after mother when I'm
away."
"No, nephy, you needn't; I'll do it whether or not."
"And Minnie, poor thing, she'll need a word of advice and comfort now
and then, uncle."
"And she shall have it, lad," replied the captain with a tremendous wink,
which was unfortunately lost on the nephew, in consequence of its
being night and unusually dark, "advice and comfort on demand, gratis;
for:--
"`Woman, in her hours of ease, Is most uncommon hard to please;'
"But she must be looked arter, ye know, and made of, d'ye see? so
Ruby, boy, farewell."
Half-an-hour before midnight was the time chosen for the sailing of the
sloop Termagant, in order that she might get away quietly and escape
the press-gang. Ruby and his uncle had taken the precaution to go
down to the harbour just a few minutes before sailing, and they kept as
closely as possible to the darkest and least-frequented streets while
passing through the town.
Captain Ogilvy returned by much the same route to his sister's cottage,

but did not attempt to conceal his movements. On the contrary,
knowing that the sloop must have got clear of the harbour by that time,
he went along the streets whistling cheerfully. He had been a noted, not
to say noisy, whistler when a boy, and the habit had not forsaken him in
his old age. On turning sharp round a corner, he ran against two men,
one of whom swore at him, but the other cried--
"Hallo! messmate, yer musical the night. Hey, Captain Ogilvy, surely I
seed you an' Ruby slinkin' down the dark side o' the market-gate half an
'oor ago?"
"Mayhap ye did, an' mayhap ye didn't," retorted the captain, as he
walked on; "but as it's none o' your business to know, I'll not tell ye."
"Ay, ay? O but ye're a cross auld chap. Pleasant dreams t'ye."
This kindly remark, which was expressed by our friend Davy Spink,
was lost on the captain, in consequence of his having resumed his
musical recreation with redoubled energy, as he went rolling back to
the cottage to console Mrs Brand, and to afford "advice and comfort
gratis" to Minnie Gray.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE BURGLARY.
On the night in question, Big Swankie and a likeminded companion,
who went among his comrades by the name of the Badger, had planned
to commit a burglary in the town, and it chanced that the former was
about that business when Captain Ogilvy unexpectedly ran against him
and Davy Spink.
Spink, although a smuggler, and by no means a particularly respectable
man, had not yet sunk so low in the scale of life as to be willing to
commit burglary. Swankie and the Badger suspected this, and, although
they required his assistance much, they were afraid to ask him to join,
lest he should not only refuse, but turn against them. In order to get
over the difficulty, Swankie had arranged to suggest to him the robbery

of a store containing gin, which belonged to a smuggler, and, if he
agreed to that, to proceed further and suggest the more important matter
in hand. But he found Spink proof against the first attack.
"I tell 'ee, I'll hae naething to do wi't," said he, when the proposal was
made.
"But," urged Swankie, "he's a smuggler, and a cross-grained hound
besides. It's no' like robbin' an honest man."
"An' what are we but smugglers?" retorted Spink; "an' as to bein'
cross-grained, you've naethin' to boast o' in that way. Na, na, Swankie,
ye may do't yersel, I'll hae nae hand in't. I'll no objec' to tak a bit keg o'
Auchmithie water [smuggled spirits] noo and then, or to pick up what
comes to me by the wund and sea, but I'll steal frae nae man."
"Ay, man, but ye've turned awfu' honest all of a suddent," said the