"Why, captain, I suppose you've been getting into some scrape ashore," said Marshall.
"Scrape! I've been in no scrape," said Gordon, "unless, indeed, it be the accident last Sunday week."
And he handed the note to me, asking if I could throw any light upon it.
The note was from Bailie Duke, and it ran as follows:
"Be in readiness. An officer from Kirkwall will be on board of you in a little with a summons.--Yours, &c., H. Duke."
I had hardly finished reading it when a noise as of someone boarding was heard on deck, and presently Captain Miller of the Albatross came rushing down the cabin stairs. He was evidently newly out of his bunk for his face was unwashed, his hair uncombed, and his large overcoat was roughly thrown over his sleeping clothes.
"What the mischief does this mean?" he exclaimed throwing a note on the table the facsimile of that which was puzzling Captain Gordon.
The two skippers were forming surmises, and were at last consoling themselves that it was some playful trick of the bailie's, when Marshall whispered through the skylight that a boat with seven men in it was pulling towards the ship.
"Show them down if they come aboard, then," ordered Gordon.
And Captain Miller rushed into the pantry to hide, dreading something serious; for he had let it out to us that he had been "on the spree" the night before, and was not the quietest of the company of which he had been a member. He locked the pantry door as he heard footsteps on the companion ladder.