A thousand questions to Flucker.
A single puff of tobacco-smoke was his answer.
And now crept up a single eye of light from Leith; she came among the boats; the boys recognized a crazy old cutter from Leith harbor, with Christie Johnstone on board.
“What is that brown heap on her deck?”
“A mountain of nets—fifty stout herring-nets.”
Tunc manifesta fides.
A yell burst from all the boys.
“He's gaun to tak us to Dunbar.”
“Half a crown! ye're no blate.”
Christie ordered the boats alongside her cutter, and five nets were dropped into each boat, six into Flucker's.