Turning down the arch which leads to the pier, they strolled along till they overtook four or five men who were lounging at that part where the pier turns outward at an obtuse angle. Below them lay a longboat, apparently intended for piloting the ships into the harbour. One of them was a man about sixty years of age, whose small head and piercing eye, slouched under a broad-brimmed hat, were strangely contrasted with the bluff and muscular appearance of his body. His face was covered with a thick shaggy beard, which seemed not to have been in the hands of the barber for a month at least. The rest of the men had nothing remarkable in their appearance; but all of them seemed to be at least twenty years younger than the old fellow just mentioned. “Well, my lads,” said the officer, “any ships in sight?” “Never a one,” replied the old fellow, in a gruff voice; “we may stand here all the day blowing our fingers, and whistling to Molly Jackson, long enough before she send us that windfall.” “Perhaps that windfall may happen sooner than you expect,” replied the officer. “I expect a vessel soon; she cannot be far distant.” “Which direction does she come?” eagerly asked the old man. But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than a square-rigged vessel was observed doubling St Abb’s, which had before concealed her from their view. In a minute the blue-jack flew up to her foretopmast head. “There comes the little _Hawk_,” cried Bill, rubbing his hands for joy; “there comes the _Hawk_, as tight a little craft as ever fought her guns on one deck.” The sudden appearance of the brig seemed to act like an electric shock upon the men. In an instant, hands were seen disappearing from the flaps of their dirty canvass trousers; and each scrambling down the pier as best he could, seized hold of their respective oars, and, in a moment, the longboat was under way, the men pulling as if it had been for life or death. “Stop!” cried the officer; “take me on board with you.” “Give way, my hearties,” roared out the old man, without attending to him. “Give way—there is Hoby Elliot will be at our heels directly.” “I am commander of that vessel,” cried the officer, running along the pier to keep up with the boat; but the men were too eager to get at the vessel to attend to him. “Well, Bill,” said he, turning to his companion, “see it is no go with these fellows; so you will just step up to the inn, get our luggage down, and here is some money to discharge our reckoning.” “Ay, ay, sir,” said Bill, and moved off.