In the meanwhile, the magnanimous Richie Moniplies had already reached
Tower Wharf. Here, after looking with contempt on several scullers by
whom he was plied, and whose services he rejected with a wave of his
hand, he called with dignity, "First oars!" and stirred into activity
several lounging Tritons of the higher order, who had not, on his
first appearance, thought it worth while to accost him with proffers
of service. He now took possession of a wherry, folded his arms within
his ample cloak, and sitting down in the stern with an air of
importance, commanded them to row to Whitehall Stairs. Having reached
the Palace in safety, he demanded to see Master Linklater, the under-
clerk of his Majesty's kitchen. The reply was, that he was not to be
spoken withal, being then employed in cooking a mess of cock-a-leekie
for the king's own mouth.
"Tell him," said Moniplies, "that it is a dear countryman of his, who
seeks to converse with him on matter of high import."
"A dear countryman?" said Linklater, when this pressing message was
delivered to him. "Well, let him come in and be d--d, that I should
say sae! This now is some red-headed, long-legged, gillie-white-foot
frae the West Port, that, hearing of my promotion, is come up to be a
turn-broche, or deputy scullion, through my interest. It is a great
hinderance to any man who would rise in the world, to have such
friends to hang by his skirts, in hope of being towed up along with
him.
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