Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 02
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 02
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
In a short time they were flying through the country towards Newcastle,
at the rate of ten miles an hour, including stoppages. Elliot was at the
river side, searching for a vessel to convey them to some part of the
continent, and Rhimeson was dozing over a newspaper in the Turk's Head
in that town, when a policeman entered, and, mistaking him for Elliot,
took him into custody. How their route had been discovered, Rhimeson
knew not; but he was possessed of sufficient presence of mind to
personate his friend, and offer to accompany the police officer
instantly back to Edinburgh, leaving a letter and a considerable sum of
money for Elliot. In a few minutes, the generous fellow leaped into the
post-chaise, with a heart as light as many a bridegroom when flying on
the wings of love and behind the tails of four broken-winded hacks to
some wilderness, where "transport and security entwine"--the anticipated
scene of a delicious honeymoon. Elliot, while in search of a vessel, had
fallen in with a young man whom he had known as a medical student at
Edinburgh, and who was now about to go as surgeon of a Greenland vessel,
in order to earn, during the summer, the necessary sum for defraying his
college expenses. He accompanied Elliot to his inn, and heard, during
the way, the story of his misfortunes. It is unnecessary to describe
Frank's surprise and grief at the capture of his friend, Rhimeson. At
first, he determined instantly to return and relieve him from durance.
But, influenced by the entreaties contained in Rhimeson's note, and by
the arguments of the young Northumbrian, he at length changed this
resolution, and determined on accepting the situation of surgeon in the
whaling vessel for which his present companion had been about to depart.
Frank presented the Northumbrian with a sum more than equal to the
expected profits of the voyage, and received his thanks in tones wherein
the natural roughness of his accent was increased to a fearful degree by
the strength of his emotion. All things being arranged, Frank shook his
acquaintance by the hand, and remarked that it would be well for him to
keep out of the way for a while. So bidding the man of harsh aspirations
adieu, he made his way to the coach, and, in twenty-four hours, was
embarked in the _Labrador_, with a stiff westerly breeze ready to carry
him away from all that he loved and dreaded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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