"NO NEED OF BINDING OR SALVING HERE."
That afternoon the _Osprey_, with the three young rovers and Pirate
aboard, went out the voe. They were not so jubilant as they had
expected to be when sailing to meet the foe, for they were not at all
sure how the lads of Lunda would receive their story of Gloy's
disappearance.
The place of meeting was Havnholme, and when they neared that island
Yaspard's quick eyes detected the _Laulie_ moored by the crags and a
group of boys standing near the skeö watching for the Boden boat.
"They've come in force!" our Viking exclaimed. "Five of them, no less!
and one's a man!"
"Why, one is Gloy!" cried Gibbie; and--in more subdued tones--Lowrie
added "And the man is Mr. Garson, the young Laird o' Lunda!"
"_That's_ jolly!" Yaspard said; "but how Gloy got there beats me to
imagine," and he cast a reproachful glance at Pirate, who was looking
up into his master's face with such an expression of fidelity in his
honest brown eyes that the boy could not resist their appeal. He took
the dog's head between his hands and said, "No, Pirate, I will not
think _you_ broke faith with me."
"The mystery will soon be cleared up now," remarked Lowrie, as he
lowered the sail and directed his brother to row gently, so that they
might bring up alongside of the _Laulie_.
By the time their boat was moored to the crags, the Lunda boys and
their chief were standing there, all grinning from ear to ear. As for
Gloy, he was all "one huge laugh," Yaspard said, with some exasperation
in his tone.
"I suppose I mustn't shake hands with you, Mr. Garson," the Viking
said, addressing himself to Fred as he jumped on shore; but Fred
laughed and caught both of Yaspard's hands in his as he replied,
"Nonsense, man! You ought to know that _honourable_ enemies do not
scruple to shake hands even on the eve of battle. I was exceedingly
pleased with your letter, and very glad to make your acquaintance under
_any_ circumstances."
"Even Uncle Brüs could not hold out against a fellow like you!" Yaspard
exclaimed, as he returned that hearty hand-clasp, and looked into the
winsome, manly face, so much endowed with the magnetic power that drew
all hearts to Fred Garson.
They all laughed at Yaspard's words, but they all knew how potent was
Fred's spell, and did not wonder at the boy's enthusiasm.
"I suppose," said Fred then, "that before I answer your letter we
should explain about your captive, taken in fair war, and here ready to
yield himself back into your hands if you are not satisfied with his
explanation and the ransom we bring."
"It's here--just as you stipulated," Bill Mitchell exclaimed, rattling
a little tin pail he carried; "pebbles wet with the waves of Westervoe.
See!" and he jerked off the lid and showed some stones in a pail full
of salt water.
"If I were Gloy," burst forth the blunt and tactless Tom Holtum, "I'd
be ashamed of being valued at such a trumpery price. If you had priced
him against a bit of lichen torn from the Head of Calloster, which
might have cost us our lives to procure, _that_ would have been more
like the thing. But beach stones in salt water, bah!"
"Tom, lad!" said Fred gently, "if you were living in a city far from
Lunda--as I have been--you would put a higher price on pebbles wet with
the sea that girdles the old isle. I picked up a small stone myself,
when I left home for the first time, and I carried it always in my
pocket. I keep it still for sake of its memories; one values a trifle
for reasons known only to himself."
His companions had not reached the age when boys learn to put a little
sentiment into their actions, so they only stared in surprised silence;
but Yaspard fully appreciated what Fred said, and remarked, "It was a
little like that way that I was thinking when I bade them bring those
pebbles. I must not go to Westervoe myself, so I thought I'd like to
have something from it. I thought I should feel more like one of you
boys--not so much by myself, and all that sort of thing--if I could
handle something that reminded me of you." Then, tossing back his head
rather proudly, as he caught Tom winking to Bill, he added, "You value
that flag at your masthead for what it reminds you of--not its mere
money value. _I_ might call it a dirty old rag, but _you_ price it
highly. I dare say you see what I mean now. I'm not good at
explaining myself."
They broke into a cheer, and Tom's voice was the loudest of the lot.
"Oh, you're not a bad sort," he tried, "and you must take our chaff in
good part. You'll see enough of Westervoe before you're done with
_us_, I'll be bound; and as for adventures--why, man, you're providing
us with them! You are the inventor of adventure. Take out a patent,
and you'll make a fortune out of us, for we love that sort of thing
better than a miser loves his money."
"I'm burning tae hear Gloy's story," said Lowrie, as soon as Tom gave
any one a chance to speak. So Gloy was shoved to the front, and bidden
to "speak up, and speak quick," which he did right willingly.
"It was Mr. Adiesen in his dingy," he said. "He was ahint the skerry
when we were in the geo, and heard a'."
"I might have guessed as much if I had not been an ass," Yaspard
exclaimed. "I might have known that Pirate would only obey one of us
from Moolapund."
"Was the Laird awfu' angry?" Gibbie asked.
"Yes, he was; but when I tell'd him as weel as I could hoo it a' cam
aboot, and hoo lonesome Mr. Yaspard was, and hoo he had heard a' about
wis o' Lunda and wir ploys and vaidges, and hoo he wanted tae hae the
like too;--weel, the Laird o' Boden mused like upo' what I said; and
then he took oot his pocketbook and wrate a peerie letter wi' his
pencil. And then he bade me come inta the dingy, and I was tae row
ower tae Lunda wi' him. Sae I did as I was bid--after asking his leave
tae pit yon message for you upo' the rod. He asked me a heap aboot wis
a'--I mean aboot the Manse folk, and Dr. Holtum's bairns, and maist
aboot our young Laird and Miss Isobel and the lady. And when we cam'
tae Lunda he bade me land and carry the note he had written tae Dr.
Holtum, and after that I was tae do as I liked aboot mysel'. Then he
rowed awa' again. And so noo my tale is ended;" and, having so
delivered himself of the longest speech he ever made in his life, Gloy
sprawled on the turf, and lay kicking his heels in the sunshine,
feeling himself to be the hero of the hour.
Yaspard drew a long breath. He could scarcely believe it true that his
uncle had allowed himself to be so near Lunda, and to be so interested
in its young people. "What next, I wonder?" he muttered, and looked at
Fred, who answered the inquiry in the Viking's gaze by saying--
"I am not at liberty to tell what Mr. Adiesen wrote to Dr. Holtum; but
it wasn't like what he wrote to _me_, and it wasn't bad at all. So let
your mind be at rest on that point. You are as free as ever to carry
on your Viking course."
"Father said," Tom interrupted, "that _we_ are now at liberty to bring
you as a prisoner to Lunda, if we can catch you as easily as you caught
Gloy, so you will have to look out."
"I'll be delighted, quite delighted!" was the answer, which sent the
enemy into fits of laughter.
Then Harry asked, trying to look very grave, and extending the tin pail
towards Yaspard--
"You accept this ransom, and the captive is free?"
"Place the precious ore in our bark," said the Viking chief, handing
the pail to Gibbie.
"And take care," said Harry, "that you don't scrape your bark on an oar
as you do it."
"The perpetrator of such atrocious puns ought to be severely punished,"
retorted Yaspard.
"He is always sorry for them afterwards," said Bill.
"I wish I were _not_ free," muttered Gloy. "I wanted to go to
Noostigard," and he exchanged regretful looks with his cousins; but
Fred lifted the cloud from their spirits.
"I am going to ask you," he said, addressing Yaspard, "to take me with
you to Boden; and perhaps you will allow Gloy to come as my henchman?"
"You! what? Why, didn't Uncle Brüs--you're never going to beard the
lion in his den."
"That is just what I intend," Fred answered, smiling.
"But--oh, you know _I'd_ like it--but you will be insulted. It will be
horrid. There will be a row, sure as anything. I can't bear to think
of what he may say; and, being an old man, you won't like to answer
back, and--you have no idea what bitter words Uncle Brüs says when he
is angry."
Yaspard's eyes filled with tears, and he hung his head for shame, as he
pictured to himself the reception which that gracious, gallant young
knight was likely to receive in Boden.
"Don't fear!" said Harry Mitchell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Our captain has a way of his own of turning thunder-clouds into
sunshine."
"He has a temper, and he likes to be monarch of all he surveys," added
Tom; "but he is the finest fellow out; and he will tackle old
Adiesen--beg pardon, the Laird of Boden--in just the properest way.
You needn't be afraid to give Fred a passage in your boat."
"And Gloy, please, sir," added the Harrisons.
"I am at Mr. Garson's service," said Yaspard. Then a brilliant idea
came into his head, dispelling in a moment all his doubts and fears.
"I'll tell you what," he cried, "you shall meet my little sister first,
and _she_ shall take you to Uncle Brüs. He will do anything for her.
She is always there when my boat is coming in, and we'll hand you over
to Signy. That's the ticket!"
"Sisters are towers of strength, arks of refuge in a storm," said Fred.
"Well, that's settled," remarked Tom, "so the best you can do is to be
off as quickly as possible and get it over. _We_ will go and lay our
lines at the Ootskerries, and have some sport till you return. When
will that be?"
"Don't wait for us," said Fred. "I may be detained, and your mothers
might be anxious. When you've hauled your lines just go home, and I'll
trust to being safely despatched to Lunda from Boden."
The Mitchells and Tom got into the _Laulie_, and were soon sailing to
their favourite fishing-ground, while the others embarked in the
_Osprey_ and made tacks for Boden voe.