Other Things Besides Murder “Will Out.”  
Meanwhile Davy Spink, with his heart full, returned slowly to the shore.
 
He was long of reaching it, the boat being very heavy for one man to pull. On landing he hurried up to his poor little cottage, which was in a very low part of the town, and in a rather out-of-the-way corner of that part.
 
“Janet,” said he, flinging himself into a rickety old armchair that stood by the fireplace, “the press-gang has catched us at last, and they’ve took Big Swankie away, and, worse than that—”
 
“Oh!” cried Janet, unable to wait for more, “that’s the best news I’ve heard for mony a day. Ye’re sure they have him safe?”
 
“Ay, sure enough,” said Spink dryly; “but ye needna be sae glad aboot it, for. Swankie was aye good to you.”
 
“Ay, Davy,” cried Janet, putting her arm round her husband’s neck, and kissing him, “but he wasna good to you. He led ye into evil ways mony a time when ye would rather hae keepit oot o’ them. Na, na, Davy, ye needna shake yer heed; I ken’d fine.”
 
“Weel, weel, hae’d yer ain way, lass, but Swankie’s awa’ to the wars, and so’s Ruby Brand, for they’ve gotten him as weel.”
 
“Ruby Brand!” exclaimed the woman.
 
“Ay, Ruby Brand; and this is the way they did it.”
 
Here Spink detailed to his helpmate, who sat with folded hands and staring eyes opposite to her husband, all that had happened. When he had concluded, they discussed the subject together. Presently the little girl came bouncing into the room, with rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, a dirty face, and fair ringlets very much dishevelled, and with a pitcher of hot soup in her hands.
 
Davy caught her up, and kissing her, said abruptly, “Maggie, Big Swankie’s awa’ to the wars.”
 
The child looked enquiringly in her father’s face, and he had to repeat his words twice before she quite realised the import of them.
 
“Are ye jokin’, daddy?”
 
“No, Maggie; it’s true. The press-gang got him and took him awa’, an’ I doot we’ll never see him again.”
 
The little girl’s expression changed while he spoke, then her lip trembled, and she burst into tears.
 
“See there, Janet,” said Spink, pointing to Maggie, and looking earnestly at his wife.
 
“Weel-a-weel,” replied Janet, somewhat softened, yet with much firmness, “I’ll no deny that the man was fond o’ the bairn, and it liked him weel enough; but, my certes! he wad hae made a bad man o’ you if he could. But I’m real sorry for Ruby Brand; and what’ll the puir lassie Gray do? Ye’ll hae to gang up an’ gie them the message.”
 
“So I will; but that’s like somethin’ to eat, I think?”
 
Spink pointed to the soup.
 
“Ay, it’s a’ we’ve got, so let’s fa’ to; and haste ye, lad. It’s a sair heart she’ll hae this night—wae’s me!”
 
While Spink and his wife were thus employed, Widow Brand, Minnie Gray, and Captain Ogilvy were seated at tea, round the little table in the snug kitchen of the widow’s cottage.
 
It might have been observed that there were two teapots on the table, a large one and a small, and that the captain helped himself out of the small one, and did not take either milk or sugar. But the captain’s teapot did not necessarily imply tea. In fact, since the death of the captain’s mother, that small teapot had been accustomed to strong drink only. It never tasted tea.
 
“I wonder if Ruby will get leave of absence,” said the captain, throwing himself back in his armchair, in order to be able to admire, with greater ease, the smoke, as it curled towards the ceiling from his mouth and pipe.
 
“I do hope so,” said Mrs Brand, looking up from her knitting, with a little sigh. Mrs Brand usually followed up all her remarks with a little sigh. Sometimes the sigh was very little. It depended a good deal on the nature of her remark whether the sigh was of the little, less, or least description; but it never failed, in one or other degree, to close her every observation.
 
“I think he will,” said Minnie, as she poured a second cup of tea for the widow.
 
“Ay, that’s right, lass,” observed the captain; “there’s nothin’ like hope—
 
    “‘The pleasures of hope told a flatterin’ tale
 
    Regardin’ the fleet when Lord Nelson set sail.’
 
“Fill me out another cup of tea, Hebe.”
 
It was a pleasant little fiction with the captain to call his beverage “tea”. Minnie filled out a small cupful of the contents of the little teapot, which did, indeed, resemble tea, but which smelt marvellously like hot rum and water.
 
“Enough, enough. Come on, Macduff! Ah! Minnie, this is prime Jamaica; it’s got such a—but I forgot; you don’t understand nothin’ about nectar of this sort.”
 
The captain smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then said, with a sudden chuckle—
 
“Wasn’t it odd, sister, that we should have found it all out in such an easy sort o’ way? If criminals would always tell on themselves as plainly as Big Swankie did, there would be no use for lawyers.”
 
“Swankie would not have spoken so freely,” said Minnie, with a laugh, “if he had known that we were listening.”
 
“That’s true, girl,” said the captain, with sudden gravity; “and I don’t feel quite easy in my mind about that same eavesdropping. It’s a dirty thing to do—especially for an old sailor, who likes everything to be fair and above-board; but then, you see, the natur’ o’ the words we couldn’t help hearin’ justified us in waitin’ to hear more. Yes, it was quite right, as it turned out. A little more tea, Minnie. Thank’ee, lass. Now go, get the case, and let us look over it again.”
 
The girl rose, and, going to a drawer, quickly returned with a small red leather case in her hand. It was the identical jewel-case that Swankie had found on the dead body at the Bell Rock!
 
“Ah! that’s it; now, let us see; let us see.” He laid aside his pipe, and for some time felt all his pockets, and looked round the room, as if in search of something.
 
“What are you looking for, uncle?”
 
“The specs, lass; these specs’ll be the death o’ me.”
 
Minnie laughed. “They’re on your brow, uncle!”
 
“So they are! Well, well—”
 
The captain smiled deprecatingly, and, drawing his chair close to the table, began to examine the box.
 
Its contents were a strange mixture, and it was evident that the case had not been made to hold them.
 
There was a lady’s gold watch, of very small size, and beautifully formed; a set of ornaments, consisting of necklace, bracelets, ring, and ear-rings of turquoise and pearls set in gold, of the most delicate and exquisite chasing; also, an antique diamond cross of great beauty, besides a number of rings and bracelets of considerable value.
 
As the captain took these out one by one, and commented on them, he made use of Minnie’s pretty hand and arm to try the effect of each, and truly the ornaments could not have found a more appropriate resting-place among the fairest ladies of the land.
 
Minnie submitted to be made use of in this way with a pleased and amused expression; for, while she greatly admired the costly gems, she could not help smiling at the awkwardness of the captain in putting them on.
 
“Read the paper again,” said Minnie, after the contents of the box had been examined.
 
The captain took up a small parcel covered with oiled cloth, which contained a letter. Opening it, he began to read, but was interrupted by Mrs Brand, who had paid little attention to the jewels.
 
“Read it out loud, brother,” said she, “I don’t hear you well. Read it out; I love to hear of my darling’s gallant deeds.”
 
The captain cleared his throat, raised his voice, and read slowly:—
 
    “‘Lisbon, 10th March, 1808.
 
    “‘Dear Captain Brand,—I am about to quit this place for the East in a few days, and shall probably never see you again. Pray accept the accompanying case of jewels as a small token of the love and esteem in which you are held by a heart-broken father. I feel assured that if it had been in the power of man to have saved my drowning child your gallant efforts would have............