The man's body, powerful and thick-set as an oak, his immense strength, his savage temper made him shunned and disliked. There were few indeed who would have ventured to cross the path of Dirk Hatteraick, whose best name was "black smuggler," and whose worst a word it was safest to speak in a whisper, lest a bird of the air should carry the matter.
On the present occasion Dirk had come to the gipsy queen to demand of her a charm for a fair wind and a prosperous voyage. For the less religion such a man has, the more superstitious he is apt to be.
"Where are you, Mother Deyvilson?" he cried again. "Donner and blitzen, here we have been staying for you full half an hour! Come, bless the good ship and the voyage--and be cursed to ye for a hag of Satan!"
At that moment, catching sight of Mannering, the smuggler stopped with a strange start. He thrust his hand into his pocket as if to draw out a hidden weapon, exclaiming: "What cheer, brother? You seem on the outlook, eh?"
But with a glance at the intruder Meg Merrilies checked him. In a moment Hatteraick had altered his tone, and was speaking to Mannering civilly, yet still with an undercurrent of sullen suspicion which he tried to disguise under a mask of familiarity.
"You are, I suppose," said Mannering, calmly, "the master of that vessel in the bay?"
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the sailor, "I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick of the _Yungfrauw Hagenslaapen_, and I am not ashamed of my name or of my vessel, either. Right cognac I carry--rum, lace, real Mechlin, and Souchong tea--if you will come aboard, I will send you ashore with a pouchful of that last--Dirk Hatteraick knows how to be civil!"
Mannering got rid of his offers without openly offending the man, and was well content to see the precious pair vanish down the stone stairs which had formerly served the garrison of the castle in time of siege.
On his return to the house of Ellangowan, Mannering related his adventure, and asked of his host who this villanous-looking Dutchman might be, and why he was allowed to wander at will on his lands.
This was pulling the trigger, and Mr. Bertram at once exploded into a long catalogue of griefs. According to him, the man was undoubtedly one Captain Dirk Hatteraick, a smuggler or free-trader. As for allowing him on his lands--well, Dirk was not very canny to meddle with. Besides, impossible as it was to believe, he, Godfrey Bertram of Ellangowan, was not upon his Majesty's commission of the peace for the county. Jealousy had kept him off--among other things the ill-will of the sitting member. Besides which--after all a gentleman must have his cognac, and his lady her tea and silks. Only smuggled articles came into the country. It was a pity, of course, but he was not more to blame than others.