"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 voyage o' piratin'. He be leukin' for ye noo, John
Paul." With that some of the men on the thwarts, perceiving that matters