"Ay, ay, sir!" said Gillions.
Accordingly I was set free; and seeing my rope lying on the deck I coiled it up ready to take ashore with me, taking it aft to the gangway.
We were by this time abreast of the Ness and entering Stromness Bay. Notwithstanding the continued falling of snow, several boats put out from the jetties of the harbour when the Clasper was seen sailing in with her prize; and as the chains, rattled over her bow and she came to an anchorage close inshore, she was surrounded by inquiring fisher folk.
In one of the first boats that came alongside sat Bailie Duke wrapped in a great gray plaid. He hailed one of the petty officers of the cutter, and Mr. Fox came forward and asked him aboard.
"What's all this about?" said Mr. Duke, addressing the lieutenant as he stepped on the deck. "I see ye've made a prisoner of our pilot."
"I've made prisoner of a smuggler, sir, pilot or not pilot," said Mr. Fox.
"But on whose authority have you taken the St. Magnus? Do you not know that she is our pilot boat?" asked the bailie.
"On the highest authority, Mr. Duke--the Queen's," replied the lieutenant. "If Kinlay was your pilot, then all the greater was his offence. His men must suffer the penalty for their crime, and I suppose the port must just appoint another pilot, that's all."
"His men must suffer, you say?" said Mr. Duke, not understanding. "Then you do not accuse Carver Kinlay himself of smuggling?"
"I should certainly have done that, Mr. Duke; but Carver Kinlay, unfortunately, is dead."