e a British
man-of-war. Ruby was quickly introduced to his future messmates, and
warmly received by them. Then he was left to his own free will during
the remainder of that day, for the commander of the vessel was a kind
man, and did not like to add to the grief of the impressed men by
setting them to work at once.

Thus did our hero enter the Royal Navy; and many a long and weary day
and month passed by before he again set foot in his native town.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

OTHER THINGS BESIDES MURDER "WILL OUT."

Meanwhile Davy Spink, with his heart full, returned slowly to the shore.

He was long of reaching it, the boat being very heavy for one man to
pull. On landing he hurried up to his poor little cottage, which was in
a very low part of the town, and in a rather out-of-the-way corner of
that part.

"Janet," said he, flinging himself into a rickety old armchair that
stood by the fireplace, "the press-gang has catched us at last, and
they've took Big Swankie away, and, worse than that--"

"Oh!" cried Janet, unable to wait for more, "that's the best news I've
heard for mony a day. Ye're sure they have him safe?"

"Ay, sure enough," said Spink dryly; "but ye needna be sae glad aboot
it, for. Swankie was aye good to _you_."

"Ay, Davy," cried Janet, putting her arm round her husband's neck, and
kissing him, "but he wasna good to _you_. He led ye into evil ways mony
a time when ye would rather hae keepit oot o' them. Na, na, Davy, ye
needna shake yer heed; I ken'd fine."

"Weel, weel, hae'd yer ain way, lass, but Swankie's awa' to the wars,
and so's Ruby Brand, for they've gotten him as weel."

"Ruby Brand!" exclaimed the woman.

"Ay, Ruby Brand; and this is the way they did it."

Here Spink detailed to his helpmate, who sat with folded hands and
staring eyes opposite to her husband, all that had happened. When he
had concluded, they discussed the subject together. Presently the
little girl came bouncing into the room, with rosy cheeks, sparkling
eyes, a dirty face, and fair ringlets very much dishevelled, and with a
pitcher of hot soup in her hands.

Davy caught her up, and kissing her, said abruptly, "Maggie, Big
Swankie's awa' to the wars."

The child looked enquiringly in her father's face, and he had to repeat
his words twice before she quite realised the import of them.

"Are ye jokin', daddy?"

"No, Maggie; it's true. The press-gang got him and took him awa', an' I
doot we'll ne