He went below first to the cook's galley to tune properly up.
Then in a few minutes the lullaby began. It seemed the lowest and dreamiest music those Germans ever listened to, and appeared to be coming up out of some dreary pine-forest, or from far away behind a heather hill.
"Dat was glorious," cried the German. "Oh, Captain Breezy, send a sentry to request an encore." When the last notes filled the air in cadence long and low, there were tears in that Captain's eyes.
"You are a wonderful peoples, you Scotch," he said, as McTavish flung the pipes on the sofa. "Love, romance and music dwells only in a mountain-land."
One day, not long after this, the Breezy was sighted by a Russian battle-ship. Had this vessel overhauled her, they would have fought like mountain cats, and would have probably sunk with the British colours flying.
There was no occasion, for just then a huge and majestic British ship hove in sight, and the Russian now took to her heels, showing her ugly stern, with the Britisher, after an exchange of salutes with the Breezy, going full speed after her.
They passed to the east of the Channel Islands that evening.
"Now," said Breezy to Kep, "we have some considerable amount of repairs to make, as I don't want to go into port like a lame duck. So, lad, if you choose, I shall cast anchor just off your father's village of Mareton and complete repairs there, and you can ask your people to come off every day."
"Oh, how can I ever thank you, sir?"
"By holding your peace, lad. But," he added, "I'll be bound that the broadsword-men of the Breezy will manage to amuse them."