ade him keep the boat on the course he had before been steering.
Before many minutes had passed the increasing wind showed the wisdom of
his determination. Away bounded the boat over the rising seas; but no
sooner had she entered the Sound than she glided smoothly along over its
calm water, and soon reached the point where Morton proposed landing.
All the crew, however, had some excuse for visiting Hillswick. Angus
Maitland's abode was known for its hospitality, and no one ever came
there who did not receive a hearty welcome, and the best accommodation
he could afford, suited to their rank and position. The boat was left
securely moored in a little voe, where not the fiercest of storms from
without could reach her.

Honesty is a characteristic of the Shetlanders, and Morton and his crew
knew well that should she by chance be discovered, not a rope-yarn would
be taken away. A high heather-covered hill lay between the spot where
they landed and Hillswick. Morton stopped when he reached the top, and
took a glance along the whole western horizon, which lay open to view.
The corvette was already hull down, standing on close-hauled to the
southward of west, in which direction the bank of clouds he had before
remarked had greatly increased in height and denseness.

"She is making a good offing, and the Spaniards will have reason enough
to be glad they have done so," observed Morton. "The squall brewing out
there will be down upon them before long, hot and strong; but if they
heave the ship to at once, it will have blown itself out before they
have time to drift back near enough to our coast to come to any harm."

The men assented to the correctness of Morton's remark. Perhaps they
did not as warmly wish for the safety of the corvette as he did.
Formerly, probably, they would have prayed that Providence would
mercifully drive her back, and wreck her in some convenient spot among
the rocks, where, though the crew might be lost, whatever was of value
in her might be cast on shore for the benefit of the people.

Angus Maitland spied Morton coming down the hill, and, his portly figure
clad in a suit of grey shepherd's plaid, and a stout stick in his hand,
he sallied forth to meet him. His greeting was warm and hearty.

"Come along, Rolf--come along, man; now I've got you I'll keep you," he
exclaimed, when Morton had told him how it was he had come to North
Maven. "Your guid wife will spare ye for a day, and she'll guess