At that moment we caught sight of a small rowing boat coming out to
us from the shore, pulled by one man, who bent to his oars in a
slow, listless way as though disinclined for the labour.

"Boat ahoy!" shouted the captain.

The man looked up and signalled in answer. A couple of our sailors
went to throw him a rope as he brought his craft alongside. He had
come, so he slowly explained in his soft, slow, almost
unintelligible Highland dialect, with fresh eggs and butter, hoping
to effect a sale. The steward was summoned, and bargaining began. I
listened and looked on, amused and interested, and I presently
suggested to the captain that it might be as well to ask this man if
he too had seen the yacht whose movements appeared so baffling and
inexplicable. The captain at once took the hint.

"Say, Donald," he began, invitingly--"did you see the big yacht that
came in last night about ten o'clock?"

"Ou ay!" was the slow answer--"But my name's no Tonald,--it's just
Jamie."

Captain Derrick laughed jovially.

"Beg pardon! Jamie, then! Did you see the yacht?"

"Ou ay! I've seen her mony a day. She's a real shentleman."

I smiled.