now that the anchor was on the ground, he became palpably nervous. I had
donned again good MacMuir's shore suit, and was standing by the gangway
when the captain approached me.

"What'll ye be doing now, Dickie lad?" he asked kindly.

What indeed! I was without money in a foreign port, still dependent upon
my benefactor. And since he had declared his unwillingness to accept any
return I was of no mind to go farther into his debt. I thanked him again
for his goodness in what sincere terms I could choose, and told him I
should be obliged if he would put me in the way of working my passage to
London upon some coasting vessel. But my voice was thick, my affection
for him having grown-past my understanding.

"Hoots!" he replied, moved in his turn, "whyles I hae siller ye shallna
lack. Ye maun gae post-chaise to London, as befits yere station."

And scouting my expostulations, he commanded the longboat, bidding me be
ready to go ashore with him. I had nothing to do but to say farewell
to MacMuir and Lowrie and Auctherlonnie, which was hard enough. For the
honest first mate I had a great liking, and was touched beyond speech
when he enjoined me to keep his shore suit as long as I had want of it.

"But you will be needing it, MacMuir," I said, suspecting he had no
other.

"Haith! I am but a plain man, Mr. Carvel, and ye can sen' back the claw
frae London, wi' this geordie."

He slipped a guinea into my hand, but this I positively refused to take;
and to hide my feelings I climbed quickly over the side and into the
stern of the boat, beside the captain, and was rowed away through the
little fleet of cobles gathering about the ship. Twisting my neck for
a parting look at the John, I caught a glimpse of MacMuir's ungainly
shoulders over the fokesle rail, and I was near to tears as he shouted a
hearty "God speed" after me.

As we drew near the town of Kirkcudbright, which lies very low at the
mouth of the river Dee, I made out a group of men and women on the
wharves. The captain was silent, regarding them. When we had got within
twenty feet or so of the landing, a dame in a red woollen kerchief
called out:

"What hae ye done wi' Mungo, John Paul?"

"CAPTAIN John Paul, Mither Birkie," spoke up a coarse fellow with a
rough beard. And a laugh went round.

"Ay, captain! I'll captain him!" screamed the carlin, pushing to
the front as the oars were tossed, "I'll tak aith Mr. Currie'll be
captaining him for his towmond voyag