"Mind what I told you, Paddy," he said solemnly, "or I'll have to write to your mother, and she'll take you back home to look after the pigs."
"Sure it's yourself that should go home," retorted O'Callaghan. "If all reports be true, you'd make more money in bonnie Scotland than here."
"But how, Paddy darlint?"
"How? Is it yourself that asks? Didn't the Duke of Argyle—God bless him—put up rubbing-stones in every field? Well, you'd make a dacint living if you just stood beside one and sold butter and brimstone. That's for you this time!"
* * * * * * * * * * *
After the first storm the weather became glorious. A splendid breeze, that filled every sail, blew over the sparkling sea—a breeze that made every sailor's heart beat with joy, a breeze that made every man-Jack lithe and active, ay, and happy, bringing merry laughter to the lips and song from the very heart.
Captain Leeward was very proud of his ship.
"She isn't much of a fighter perhaps, you know," he said, "and I dare say a shell or two from a big gun would speedily rip her up, but she is comfortable and dry and nice, and for all the world like a yacht, and so I love her."
"You wouldn't be a sailor if you didn't, sir," said Grant, whom he was addressing. "But I never saw a ship before so prettily finished, both on the upper and fighting decks. The Lords Commissioners have been good to you."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the captain. "It is little indeed you can get out of them. I did the decorations—extra paint and gilding, and all that—out of my own pocket, doctor."