"Well," said Captain Wemyss, "this Kinlay may do as he likes, but I for one will have no business with him."
"Nor I neither," said Captains Johnson and Miller at once.
"He's no proper pilot," said Gray, "and has no right to run a boat."
"I'm afraid, gentlemen," put in Lloyd's agent with a tone of authority, "you're a wee bit too late in bringing forward your objections, for I'm informed that Kinlay has already taken out all necessary papers, and is now a duly certified pilot."
"What!" exclaimed Abernethy. "I'd sooner employ young Ericson here than Kinlay; I'm sure the lad kens more about the coast."
"I'd trust that lad to take my ship through any channel in Orkney," added Captain Gordon. "He brought us through on Sunday, and I never saw a pilot--except his father--handle a ship with greater skill."
Mr. Gordon was speaking thus in my praise, when who should walk into the inn but Carver Kinlay himself.
Carver had on a new suit of clothes of blue cloth, and his high boots, reaching above the knees, were newly polished with oil. At his waist he wore a leather belt from which was suspended a long sheath knife. He walked in with a jaunty air of self importance, but with a slightly unsteady gait, which showed how he had been celebrating his appointment. He approached Captain Wemyss, and addressed him.
"Ye'll be weighing anchor on Monday morning, captain, I suppose? What time shall I come aboard?"
"I never asked you to come aboard my ship, my man," said Captain Wemyss. "What is it you want?"