"I doubt it not, but delay me no more now; let me return home, I will come again and hear all to-morrow—I give you my promise—but not now; I must see about my murdered friends, arrange about the interment of my poor assassinated brother, set the bloodhounds after the miscreant who murdered him, and——"
"Stay, not so fast, you can't steer from here before you know all; when you hear who Ned L'Estrange is you won't be so keen to follow him. You must stay, I command you; sit down, sit down: if I whistled the room were full of those who would make you anchor long enough; the time is come, I have been revenged, the murder must out."
"I see I must stay then. In truth I know not how I could thread my way out—you will tell me then who that girl is."
"Ay, ay, I see you have a misgiving about the little craft; they say in the auld country, 'tis a wise bairn who kens his father, and I say it is a wise father who kens his ain bairn, and ye may een make what you will from that. But it will be a long yarn, and you had as well get something aboard your stomach."
"I can eat nothing," said the Earl; "I pray you begin at once."
"Ha, ha, you had better rouse up first, and weet your whistle, ye'll need it," and so saying the old man called: a bandit in full costume entered with wine and a couple of goblets. When he had retired the old man poured a goblet full, and handed it to the Earl, who felt the need of it too strongly to refuse so good an offer, and drained it off, declaring the wine excellent. Bill, without the formality of pouring it into the tazza, put the bottle to his mouth—it was one of pig's skin—and took a long draught; then dragging a cask from beneath the table he sat down on it; and fixing his eyes on the Earl, who had reseated himself on the skin-covered ledge, commenced his narrative. We must however refer the reader to another chapter, and will also give it in good English, instead of the mixture of Scotch, sea phrases, oaths, and various scraps from many countries, in which it was spun, reserving only a few sea terms, or expressive words.
CHAPTER XVII.
Alonzo. "I long
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely."—Tempest.
"And this, my comrade, is that very one
Who was an infant then."—Sophocles, translated.