And it was not one song they sang, but half a dozen at least; and then they lay around the lamp and talked of home and old, old times.
* * * * * *
It was just about this time, if they had only known it, that Captain Cawdor, after landing Señor Sarpinto at San Francisco, had left his ship, and crossing to New York, had taken the mail for Liverpool.
He went thence to Glasgow, and after meeting and reporting himself to his brother shipowners, and telling them of all his adventures and doings, he set out for Methlin, to break the sad news to Fred's people.
What a lovely summer's-day it was when Captain Cawdor, on board the cutter he had hired, sailed slowly into Methlin Bay.
How blue the hills looked, asleep under the cerulean sky; how sweetly green the birchen trees; how peaceful the village, with the wee, white, brown-thatched cottages. And he, this truly good and kind old sailor, had come to bring grief to all it contained.
"Oh," he thought, "if I could only give them even an atom of hope! But, alas! I cannot."
Eean was glad to see him. They had met before; but a glance told the old fisherman and his wife that the white-haired sailor was the bearer of bad tidings.
Long, long after Toddie—from whom the sad news was withheld—had gone to bed and was fast asleep, the old people sat beside the fire, and it is needless to say what the subject of their conversation was. But though Eppie's eyes were red with weeping, and she had even forgotten her spinning-wheel, neither she nor Eean were entirely hopeless.
"No, no," said Eean, "something tells me my boy still lives. He is somewhere in those seas; and though I am willing to submit to the will of our heavenly Father, I believe that he will yet return.