On reaching the wharf he found Kitty and Celia Hartley, whom he had not met hitherto, awaiting him with Carroll and Drayton. A boat lay at the steps, and he and Carroll rowed the others off to the sloop. The moon was just rising from behind the black firs at the inlet’s inner end, and a little cold wind faintly scented with resinous fragrance, that blew down across them, stirred the water into tiny ripples that flashed into silvery radiance here and there.
A soft glow shone out from the skylights to welcome them as they approached the sloop, and when, laughing gaily, they clambered on board, Carroll led the way to the tiny saloon, which just held them all. It was brightly lighted by two nickelled lamps; flowers were fastened against the panelling, and clusters of them stood upon the table, which was covered with a spotless cloth. Vane took the head of it and Carroll modestly explained that only part of the supper had been prepared by him. The rest he had obtained in the city, out of regard for the guests, who, he added, had not lived in the bush.
Carroll started the general chatter, which went on after the meal was over, and nobody appeared to notice that Kitty sat with her hand in Drayton’s amidst the happy laughter. Even Celia, who had her grief to grapple with, smiled bravely. Vane had given them champagne, the best in the city, though they drank sparingly; and at last, when Celia made a move to rise, Drayton stood up with his glass in his hand.
“We must go, but there’s something to be done,” he said. “It’s to thank our host and wish him success. It’s a little boat he’s sailing in, but she’s carrying a big freight if our good wishes count for anything.”
They emptied the glasses, and Vane replied: “My success is yours. You have all a stake in the venture, and that piles up my responsibility. If the spruce is still in existence, I’ve got to find it.”
“And you’re going to find it,” said Drayton confidently.
Then Vane divided the flowers between Celia and her companion, but when they went up on deck Kitty raised one bunch and kissed it.
“Tom won’t mind,” she said. “Take that one back from Celia and me.”
They got down into the boat. Then, while the girls called back to Vane, Drayton rowed away, and the boat was fading out of sight when Kitty’s voice reached the men on board. She was singing a well-known Jacobite ballad.
“Considering what his Highland followers suffered on his account and what the women thought of him,” said Carroll, “some of the virtues they credited the Young Chevalier with must have been real,” He raised his hand. “You may as well listen.”