"Your word as a knight, Sir Andrew, that you will never repeat what will assuredly be my ruin."
"Messmate, thou hast my word as a seaman. Well?"
"Last night three gentlemen, in masks, went off to the Royal Harry, and remained two hours aboard."
"About what time was this?"
"Mirk midnight——"
"When honest men are swinging in their hammocks. Well?"
"When day broke, she and her twa consorts were bearing awa south and by east."
"Three gentlemen, wearing masks,"—said the admiral, keenly scrutinizing the honest brown visage of the fisherman; "ken ye their names?"
"No, Sir Andrew," replied Jamie looking down, for he trembled for his wife and child, if exposed to the vengeance of Gray of Kyneff.
"By every shrine in Largo kirk!" said the admiral, "I would give my starboard fin to know who these villains were. Ho! Robert Barton, I have news for thee," he added, with a grim smile; "the English Harry and her consorts are off the coast."