The Yellow Frigate; or, The Three SistersGrant, James
History
The Yellow Frigate; or, The Three Sisters
Grant, James
Scotland -- History -- 1057-1603 -- Fiction
"Yes, I'm Willie Wad, the Laird of Largo's gunner," replied the
seaman, rather sulkily; "I never sail under false colours, or cheat
the king's collectors of dock dues or haven siller, so I value nane a
rope-yarn. But yo-ho, brother, I have seen you before," he added, as
a light shone through a shutter and showed the gay dress of
Borthwick; so Wad therefore became more suspicious than pleased by
his familiarity, and scrutinized him closely, although various drams
he had imbibed rendered his faculties rather obscure, and his temper
somewhat fractious.
"You have seen me! indeed--and where?" asked Borthwick, who was ready
to assume any character Wad might assign him; for old habit and
experience made him aware that it was safer to be any other person
than _himself_; but Wad dissipated this idea by saying--
"You boarded us off Broughty, when last we came from Holland?"
"True; I had a message from the king to the admiral."
"From the king!" reiterated Wad, dubiously; "and the Admiral--ken ye
him?"
"Well as I know good Robert Barton."
"Then ye ken the twa best men that ever sailed on salt
water--except----"
"The king?"
"Ay, the king, of course," said Wad, touching his bonnet.
Borthwick, who always trembled at that name, now said hastily--
"Are you a king's man?"
"Ye donnart fule! am I not the gunner o' a king's ship?" said the
seaman, who was rather pugnaciously inclined, and began to clench his
hands; "you, who were ashore, fought for the king, I hope?"
"Bravely," said Borthwick, in whose throat the word almost stuck.
"Had you fought against him, I had brained you on the first
timber-head!" hiccuped Wad, making one or two blows in the air.
"Tib Tarvet, the alewife's booth, is close by," said Borthwick; "let
us in, Master Wad, and we shall drink to the admiral's health in a
bicker of her best brown ale; moreover, I would fain hear the story
of this battle off the May."
"Our boatswain spinneth a better yarn than I," said the gunner; "but
as I feel drouthy, and Tib is an auld friend, I care not if I shake
out a reef for an hour or sae, so bear ye ahead, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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