It was very much frayed, and the writing in part obliterated. Evidently it had been written during the agony of the brief time between the striking of the ship against the rocks, and her heeling back and sinking.
All the portion that has connection with our story may be briefly told. The vessel was the Santa Maria, homeward bound from the West Indies. The mother of the child had died, and been buried at sea. The crew had mutinied, partially robbed the ship, and left in boats, all but a devoted few. Hence the mismanagement and the running on a lee-shore. The child's only living relative was or "would soon be"—so ran this strange epistle, written in the hour of death—"her uncle——" only decipherable word.
"If——" here was a blank, "is spared by the waves, may heaven be good to those who are good,——" a blank again, and the letter went but little further, only a word here and there being readable, these were, "uncle——villain——malediction——."
The signature itself was frayed out, no letters of it remaining except four, "PINT."
The gold in all, which for the time being Eean left lying where it was, hardly amounted, as far as he could judge, to £150 sterling.
"Gold!" he said, actually spurning it with his foot. "What is gold to the love and companionship of my little girl? My own now, it is evident."
Then he shuddered as he thought how nearly he had yielded to temptation, and done that which would have made him miserable for life.
His wife and he had a long talk that evening over the fire, and next day the fisherman bard started for Edinburgh. It was evident to all the villagers—from whom he kept nothing back—that he was going to consult his advocate, and the look of contentment on his face when he returned two days later showed plainly enough that his interview had been of the most successful character.
Nor had he returned alone, and Toddie and Tip were both wild with joy when, from the spring-cart that had brought them all the way from the nearest big town, not only the poet himself, but the two boys descended. Eean had met Frank by accident in Edinburgh. It was getting near Christmas-time, so the lad was as usual on holiday. Both ran through to Glasgow to see Fred, and at Frank's intercession he was permitted to accompany daddy and his friend back to Methlin.
The group around the fisherman bard's fire that night was an interesting one. Just as on that summer's evening long ago when Frank had first entered this humble cot, Eean sat in his tall chair, Eppie was there at the everlasting wheel, Toddie, Fred, and Frank, and even Bunko, were here too, while side by side on the earth lay Bunko's dog Keelie and honest little Tippetty.