He looked hard at Davy. There was little to be seen
in his face except the best and only thing--truth. It shone from
his round pale blue eyes; it conquered the self assertion of his
unhappy nose; it seemed to glow in every freckle of his sunburnt
cheeks, as earnestly he returned Malcolm's gaze.
"But," said Malcolm, almost satisfied, "how is this, Travers? I
never gave you any instructions about the boy."
"There's where it is, sir," answered Travers. "I seed the boy
aboard before, and when he come aboard again, jest arter you left,
I never as much as said to myself, It's all right. I axed him no
questions, and he told me no lies."
"Gien ye please, sir," struck in Davy, "Maister Trahvers gied me
my mait, an' I tuik it, 'cause I hed no sil'er to buy ony: I houp
it wasna stealin', sir. An' gien ye wad keep me, ye cud tak it aft
o' my wauges for three days."
"Look here, Davy," said Malcolm, turning sharp upon him, "can you
swim?"
"Ay can I, sir,--weel that," answered Davy.
"Jump overboard then, and swim ashore," said Malcolm, pointing to
the Chelsea bank.
The boy made two strides to the larboard gunwale, and would have
been over the next instant, but Malcolm caught him by the shoulder.
"That'll do, Davy; I'll give you a chance, Davy," he said, "and
if I get a good account of you from Travers, I'll rig you out like
myself here.
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