He was not long in scrambling down to us, my father stopping till he came up looking very much abashed.
“Well, sir,” said my father sternly. “What have you to say for yourself for striking one of his majesty’s officers?”
Bigley’s manner changed directly, his face flushed and he set his teeth as he raised his head boldly.
“He called my father a dog and a thief,” cried Bigley fiercely, “and—and—I don’t want to offend you, Captain Duncan, but I couldn’t stand by and hear him without doing something.”
“And you did do something, my lad,” said my father, holding out his hand—“a very risky something. But there, I’m not going to say any more about it. Now, tell me; your father has given you some instructions, I suppose?”
Bigley hesitated a moment.
“Yes, sir; he said that he should not be able to come back here, but he would write to me.”
“Yes; go on.”
“And that I was to stay with Mother Bonnet as long as you would let me, and when you turned us out, we were to take lodgings in Ripplemouth.”
“When I turned you out!” said my father angrily. “Pish! Ah, well, stop till I turn you out then. There, I must go now, Sep; this will be a broken day for you. Bring your two friends over to the Bay, and we’ll have tea and dinner all together.”