"What, will a gay gentleman in a scarlet cloak, chaffer thus wi' a puir mariner like me?" asked Wad, with astonishment mingled with contempt.
"I have said the letter is well worth a crown."
"Crowns hae I none—but I will gie what I have, and then let us part; sorrow be on the hour I met you."
As money poured upon this wretched bravo, avarice grew and strengthened in his heart; and he omitted no opportunity of gathering all he could win; knowing well that ere long Scotland would be too hot to hold him.
"A' I hae is here," said Wad, opening a secret nook in his pouch; "three rose-nobles, and welcome you are to them."
"Rose-nobles," said Borthwick, suspiciously, and pricking up his ears at the sound; "where got you them?"
"In the pouch of a dead Englishman. Take them; the letter, the letter!" said Willie, losing all patience, and beginning to grasp his knife with one hand, while by the other he angrily snatched away the billet. "You are I doubtna a thief and limmer to boot—despite your braw gear and laced mantle. But off! sheer off, I say, or may I drink bilge, if by one hearty kick I dinna double you up like a bolt of wet canvas!"
With these complimentary remarks Willie hastened down the Broad Wynd, crossed the ancient bridge of three arches, where a trifling toll was levied from every passenger, and reached the boat of Jamie Gair, who was just preparing to put off without him. A chill wind was blowing from the north-east and a white harr was setting in from the German Sea, so they buttoned up their gaberdines, betook them to the oars, shot the boat out into the midstream, and in a short time the old wooden pier of Leith, the Beacon Rock and Partan Craig, were left astern. Then they set their lug-sail, and keeping the boat close-hauled, bore away as nearly as her head would lie to the wind, for the beautiful Bay of Largo.