During the whole time that the Tweed lay at Leith, her decks were never free from people, who, most of them, brought brandy and whisky to regale the sailors. In such abundance were these articles supplied, that they not only were sufficient for the Tweed's own crew, but served for a jollification to every sailor in the harbour; and such a scene of feasting, dancing, and merriment went on, as was never witnessed by Leith either before or since. The same reception awaited the Tweed on her arrival at London, where they found the privateer with whom they had been engaged, lying alongside of the frigate, who had taken her, after a long chase. On making inquiries, they learned that the Frenchman had lost twenty-five men, with nine wounded—their last broadside having killed the lieutenant.
Old Bill rapidly recovered from his wound, which was not dangerous; and he was soon enabled to take command of his vessel, which had made two or three voyages to London under the command of Tom.
Mr and Miss Keveley had retired to the village of Norham, beautifully situated on the banks of the Tweed, where they continued for some time with Tom's aunt, Mrs Burton. The old gentleman, finding that his native air was beneficial to his wasted constitution, resolved to settle there for the remainder of his days; and he accordingly rented a neat cottage at the extremity of the village.
Here Tom had frequent opportunities of becoming better acquainted with Catherine; and every time he beheld her, she improved in his regard. It was on the second voyage, after old Bill had again taken possession of his vessel, that he and his son Tom were conversing together on deck. After a few preliminary hems, the old man began:—
"Tom, my boy, I have been thinking that it is now time you had a wife—a sailor is never comfortable till he gets married."
Tom replied, that he thought it time enough.
"What would you think of Miss Keveley for a wife?" asked Bill, without attending to his son's reply.
"The only fault I could find with her is, that she is too good for me. Do you think," continued he, "that Miss Keveley would ever marry a sailor?"
"As unlikely ships as that have come to land before now," replied Bill; "and wherefore should Miss Keveley not marry you? Haven't you seventy pounds a-year left you by your grandmother? and an't you my only son? And you know I've several shares in the company's vessels, besides something else that you know of; and when the old woman and myself are brought up in the next world, sha'nt you have it all?"
Tom assented to all this, but shook his head.