Nae doubt they burn for it in muckle hell, but they have a grand time here of it, whatever!--and the Lord forgie us! Weel, at the hinder end, we saw the wee flag yirk up to the mast-held upon the harbour rocks.

That was a' Sandie waited for.

He up wi' the gun, took a deleeberate aim, an' pu'd the trigger.

There cam' a bang and then ae waefu' skirl frae the Bass.

And there were we rubbin' our een and lookin' at ither like daft folk.