’What would Jimmy Laidlaw say to that?’ the skipper said, with a loud laugh.
’Jimmy Laidlaw? He hasna the ghost o’ a chance so long as this young fellow’s about. Kate’s just daft about him; but he’s no inclined that way, I can see—unless hunger should tame him. Weel, M’Taggart, I dinna like to see the lad being led away to the mischief. He’s got into ill hands. If it’s the want o’ a settled way o’ leevin that’s worrying him, and driving him to gang wild and reckless at times, something should be done. I’m an auld man now; I’ve seen ower many young fellows like that gang to auld Harry; and I like this lad—I’m no going to stand by and look on without a word.’
’Ay, and what would ye hiv me dae, Peter? Take him as a hand on board the _Mary Jane_?’
’Na, na. The lad maun gang on wi’ his surveying and that kind o’ thing—though he seems less and less to think there’ll be any solid outcome frae it. But what think ye o’ this? There’s Mr. Jackson paying they professionals from week to week; and here’s a fellow wi’ a finer natural voice than any o’ them—if it had but a little training. Well, now, why shouldna Jackson pay the lad for his singing?’
’Not if he can get it for nothing, Peter!’
’But he canna—that’s just the thing, man,’ retorted the other. ’It’s only when Ronald has had a glass and is in the humour that he’ll sing anything. Why shouldna he be engaged like the others? It would be a stand-by. It would take up none o’ his time. And it might make him a wee thing steadier if he kent he had to sing every night.’
’Very well, then, ask Tom Jackson about it,’ the big skipper said. ’Ye may say it would please the members—I’ll back ye up wi’ that. Confound him, I didna ken the deevil had got his leg ower the trace.’
The old man answered with a cautious smile:
’Ye’re rough and ready, M’Taggart; but that’ll no do. Ronald’s a camstrairy chiel. There’s Hielan blood in his veins; and ye never ken when his pride is gaun to bleeze oot and be up the lum wi’m in a fluff.’
’Beggars canna be choosers, my good freen——’
’Beggars? They Hielan folk are never beggars; they’ll rob and plunder ye, and fling ye ower a hedge, and rifle your pockets, but deil a bit o’ them ’ll beg. Na, na; we’ll have to contrive some roundabout way to see how he’ll take it. But I’ll speak to Jackson; and we’ll contrive something, I doubtna. Sae finish up your beer, Captain; and if ye’re gaun doon to see Mrs. Menzies, I’ll gang as far wi’ ye; I havena been there this nicht or twa.’