Part 33 (1/2)
”Just so,” Staffer answered, getting up.
They separated apparently on good terms; but they were conscious of mutual distrust.
The next morning Whitney, after trying to get into range of a flock of curlew feeding among the sands, threw his gun upon his shoulder and set out for the _Rowan_. The sun was bright and the breeze fresh, and after opening the skylights to ventilate the boat, he went below to see if their blankets were damp. While he was busy he heard a foot on deck, and Marshall, the fisherman, came down the ladder. He visited the yacht now and then; and Whitney at once got out the whisky bottle.
”Help yourself, but you'll excuse my not joining you,” he said. ”It's rather early in the morning, and I reckon my nerves aren't as good as yours.”
Marshall poured out a liberal portion and regarded him with a twinkle.
”I'm thinking they canna' be bad since ye're s.h.i.+pmate with Mr. Andrew.
He's no' the man I'd sail with if I was fleyt o' the sea.”
”Well, he _is_ pretty daring; but he's cautious, too, and knows exactly what he's doing. That makes a difference.”
”Ay,” agreed Marshall; ”Andrew Johnstone's a by-ordinar' good seaman; but ye may run a risk ye canna' see. Tide-rips and sudden blows are bad, but they're no' the only dangers.”
Whitney lighted a cigarette. It was plain that the old fellow had a warm liking for Andrew, and Whitney imagined he meant to give him a hint of some kind.
”I wish you'd tell me what you mean,” he said. ”You want to remember that I'm an American and not used to dark remarks. In fact, it's more or less my habit to say what I think.”
”Ye'll find it expensive whiles,” Marshall rejoined with a chuckle.
”Onyway, ye're a friend o' Mr. Johnstone's?”
”I believe so. It's a sure thing that I like him.”
”Then he'll maybe need ye. It's no' an easy job he has. Yon two at Appleyard are kittle-cattle, and would be better for watching.”
”Why don't you tell me what they're after?”
”For yea thing, I dinna ken, but I'm certain it's naething good.”
Whitney made a gesture of resignation.
”This is a pretty hard country for a stranger to get along in. You're such a blamed cautious people that n.o.body can guess what you think.
Why don't you give my partner or d.i.c.k a hint, if you believe there's something wrong?”
”There's aye a rizzon,” Marshall replied with a grin. ”Mr. Andrew mightna' believe me, and Mr. d.i.c.k would let it oot to Staffer. It's no' wise to offend the gentry, mair particularly your landlord, when a salmon noo and then comes by accident into your flounder net or ye chance upon a hare sitting ower close in her form.”
”But d.i.c.k would not be hard on you, and he'll be your landlord soon.”
”That's no' what Mr. Staffer's thinking,” said Marshall meaningly.
Whitney gave him a steady glance, knitting his brows.
”My partner will get Appleyard if d.i.c.k dies.”
”Ay, that's supposed to be the way o' it; but Mr. d.i.c.k has debts that would have to be paid. Then Mr. Staffer's acting baillie for the estate, and it wouldna' suit him weel to see Mr. Andrew get it.”
”You mean he's a dangerous man?”