“Perhaps I may, when you tell me how and where he died, and show me what proof you have of his death.”
“Will you unbind me then?”
“Yes; when I think you have been bound long enough.”
“These thongs cut me sore.”
“How can that be? they are too broad to cut; and if you do not attempt to draw your hands asunder, you know, as well as I do, that the knot is tied so that they cannot hurt you. I see, by your keeping your hands close together, that they do not hurt you.”
They had now arrived at the river’s side, where a large ferry-boat, such as is used to carry stock over from the mainland to the island, was moored against the shore. Edward lifted the old man into the broad-bottomed craft, and laying him down upon the boards, pulled up the anchor, and shoved off towards the island. The old man soon perceived that Edward was no sailor, by the manner in which he managed, or rather mismanaged the boat; and truly this was the hardest work the young man had yet to perform. He had been so taken up with the thought of doing everything he was commissioned to do, and in his pride so determined to do it all himself, without help, that he had overlooked his greatest difficulty, and forgot that he should want assistance to row the boat. He still did not use his whistle; but, with very great exertion, and very awkward management, contrived to bring the boat to the island, and to shove her along the side of the marsh wall, to a creek, close by the shepherd’s house. He then lifted the old man out of the boat, and dragged him up the mud wall, and laid him down at his cottage door. The door was locked; and, in the scuffle, the key of it had fallen out of the old man’s pocket; and Edward was obliged to make his way in at a low window behind the house; when, having forced back the bolt, he pulled the old man in, and lifted him on to a bed, which was in the room adjoining, and took a seat by his side.
“I’m both hungry and thirsty after all my exertions; have you any refreshment of any kind in this comfortable dwelling?”
“You will find plenty in the closet by the fireplace. I wish I could eat and drink with you.”
“So you may, and I will feed you as if you were my cosset lamb.”
He soon found that the shepherd’s cottage contained sufficient to recruit the spirits of any man whose stomach was not too proud for wholesome food. There was a slice of cold boiled bacon, and bread and cheese in plenty. There was brandy, too, but very bad water; and it required something stronger than tea to take off the brackish taste; brandy alone could make it palatable for man. The cattle sometimes suffered by drinking it. The young shepherd fed the old one, whose muscular limbs were now as powerless as an infant’s; not from second childhood, but from the dexterity with which they were bound together. There was something of kindness in the young man’s manner, though he was justified, in self-defence, to take the advantage he had done.