CHAPTER V.
OLD DONALD’S CONFESSION.
While the unfortunate sloop-of-war lay jammed in between two jagged sunken rocks of the terrible reef, with rocks ahead of her, and rocks astern and rocks on every hand; and while her boats were busy in getting the men of her crew safely to the shore, the smuggler brig was at anchor in King’s Cove, as effectually hidden from the prying eyes of her enemies as though she had been at the bottom of the sea.
Never mind about the wild plaudits of the outlaws as they gathered around their youthful pilot and preserver. But for him they would have been either prisoners or dead—every man of them; and they knew it.
Percy could not prevent them from being grateful, nor could he entirely hush their loud and boisterous acclaims; the most he could do was to persuade them to cut it as short as possible and, soon as he could find opportunity, to get away into the cabin with Donald Rodney.
Next to his father, old Donald had been the one man of the old crew whom Percy had loved and esteemed. He could not remember the time when he had not loved “Uncle Rodney” as he had called him in his boyhood.
The first crew organized by Hugh Maitland had acknowledged Donald Rodney as second in command, and from that time he had followed the career then commenced.
And the youth still retained his love for the dear old friend of his boyhood: and, further, he had accepted a great many favors from the old man’s hand.
Thus loving, and thus respecting, the veteran, our hero had determined to hold with him a serious conversation. He was bound, if possible, to know the present character of the brig; together with something more of the character of the man who now commanded her.
Rodney, as soon as his young friend had taken a seat, produced a bottle, and two glasses.