"Well, Ericson, tell me, how came you to be mixed up in this affair? I thought I saw you on board that coasting schooner, the Falcon, the other night. Have you turned smuggler since then?" "No, sir; I was in the cave for something else. I was down seeking for Thora." "For Thora? What's that--some sort of birds?" "Birds! No; for the lass that was lost in the snow yestreen." "Queer place to look for a lass, that, I must say! But how did you get there if you did not go round with Kinlay?" "I climbed down the cliff, sir." "Come, come, none of your nonsense!" said the officer. "Don't tell me you climbed down that cliff. I know it's impossible." "It's not impossible," I rejoined, "for I have climbed it many a time before." "Well, it's to be hoped the girl was worth risking your neck for. However, as you did not find her after all, you deserve to get off, to look for her in a more likely place." Then turning to the seaman he said: "Off with the irons, Gillions, and put the youngster ashore when the anchor's down." "Ay, ay, sir!" said Gillions. Accordingly I was set free; and seeing my rope lying on the deck I coiled it up ready to take ashore with me, taking it aft to the gangway. We were by this time abreast of the Ness and entering Stromness Bay. Notwithstanding the continued falling of snow, several boats put out from the jetties of the harbour when the Clasper was seen sailing in with her prize; and as the chains, rattled over her bow and she came to an anchorage close inshore, she was surrounded by inquiring fisher folk. In one of the first boats that came alongside sat Bailie Duke wrapped in a great gray plaid. He hailed one of the petty officers of the cutter, and Mr. Fox came forward and asked him aboard. "What's all this about?" said Mr. Duke, addressing the lieutenant as he stepped on the deck. "I see ye've made a prisoner of our pilot." "I've made prisoner of a smuggler, sir, pilot or not pilot," said Mr. Fox. "But on whose authority have you taken the St. Magnus? Do you not know that she is our pilot boat?" asked the bailie. "On the highest authority, Mr. Duke--the Queen's," replied the lieutenant. "If Kinlay was your pilot, then all the greater was his offence. His men must suffer the penalty for their crime, and I suppose the port must just appoint another pilot, that's all." "His men must suffer, you say?" said Mr. Duke, not understanding. "Then you do not accuse Carver Kinlay himself of smuggling?" "I should certainly have done that, Mr. Duke; but Carver Kinlay, unfortunately, is dead." "Carver Kinlay dead!" exclaimed the bailie. "Yes; he lost his life just now in the Gaulton Cave, where we discovered him and his crew in the act of carrying off contraband spirits. "I suppose," the officer continued, "we can send the prisoners ashore to your jail, sir?" "Certainly," said Mr. Duke; "we've plenty of room there: send them ashore. But they will be tried at Kirkwall, not here, you know."