They went by sea to Edinburgh. The _Queen_ was at present all but a cargo-boat, and besides the three lads and Vike, there was only one other passenger, an old minister of the Church of Scotland.
The same skipper and the same mate, and delighted they were to see the boys again, and they gave Frank a right hearty welcome on their account.
But Frank had that with him which secured him a welcome wherever he went--his fiddle, and when after dinner he played them some sad and plaintive old Scottish airs, all were delighted, and the minister got up from his chair, and, grasping the boy's hand, thanked him most effusively.
"Dear lad," he said, "you have brought the moisture to my eyes, although I had thought my fountain of tears had dried up many and many a long year ago."
Now here is something strange; although, when once fairly out of the Thames' mouth and at sea, it was blowing a head wind, with waves houses high, Frank was not even squeamish. I have seen many cases like this, though I must confess they are somewhat rare.
Nor was the minister ill; but then, like the Scotch boys, he was sea-fast, having done quite a deal of coasting.
"How goes the project you have in view?" asked Duncan that evening of the skipper.
"Well," was the reply, "it is not what the French call a _fait accompli_ just yet, but it is bound to be so before very long."
"Well, my 42nd cousin Frank here would like to go to sea also. Could you do with the three of us?"
"Yes. You must be prepared to rough it a bit, and we'll be rather cramped for room, but we shall manage. Eh, mate?"
"I'm sure we shall, and this young gentleman must take his fiddle."
"And I'll take the bagpipes," said Duncan, laughing.
"Hurrah!" cried the mate. "Won't we astonish the king of the Cannibal Islands? Eh?"
"But," he added, "will there be real live cannibals, sir?"
"Certainly. What good would dead ones be?"
"And is there a chance of being caught and killed and eaten, and all the like of that?"
"Ay, though it isn't pleasant to look forward to. Only mind this: I may tell you for your comfort that although, after being knocked on the head with a nullah, your Highland cousin would be trussed at once and hung up in front of a clear fire until done to a turn, you yourself would be kept alive for weeks. Penned up, you know, like a chicken."