Lord Claymore was not unknown to fame. Many men joined in consequence of the deeds he had already done, and some, after reading the placards or hearing them read, though they had no great faith in the promises. Still, the ship could not be manned entirely without sending out press-gangs.
At length the “Pallas” was ready for sea.
“I hope we may fulfil all our pledges,” observed Ronald one day, after the frigate had left the shores of England far astern.
“I am determined to do so,” exclaimed the captain. “Morton, I have lived long enough to know that a man can do nothing without money. That is irresistible, in politics, war, or love—rather marriage; it conquers all opposition. There is but one way by which seamen can make it. We are on that course. We’ll take good care that the opportunity does not escape us.”
Morton thought awhile. For the first time in his life, perhaps, the idea occurred to him that money would aid his cause. “It may serve to elucidate the mystery of my father’s birth; or why can I not win my way up to fame and fortune? I will show Colonel Armytage that the boatswain’s son may become his superior in rank, and surpass him in wealth, just as much as the boatswain does in all the qualities which make a man truly noble.”
Ronald did not allow himself generally to give way to such feelings, but they would arise in spite of him, when he thought of the ungrateful conduct of Colonel Armytage towards him. Lord Claymore, who took an interest in all serving with him, observed Morton’s depressed spirits. He, did not, however, inquire directly into the cause.
“By-the-by, Morton, you are a Shetlander, if I recollect rightly,” he exclaimed. “I have been lately among your people, and a kind-hearted, hospitable race they are. Among other places I visited was Lunnasting Castle, where I made the acquaintance of Sir Marcus Wardhill and his daughter, a handsome person, though no longer young. He is a hale old man, but somewhat eccentric, and rather morose, I suspect; has a bee in his bonnet—that is the case with many of his family. There is a cousin who lives there; not quite as old as Sir Marcus—a very odd fellow; indeed, I should say decidedly mad. You may probably know something of them?”
Ronald told him that he had been brought up in the castle.
“A relative of the family?” said the captain.
“I can scarcely be called so,” said Morton humbly. “A distant one only, on my mother’s side. My father was about to take command of a merchantman when he was pressed into the navy. He has remained in the service ever since. He is now but a boatswain, but he is a man of whom any son may be proud.”