We had now left one ingot of silver, one brooch, some odd fragments of silver, and a small black stone which had a metal ring round it; and the sharing of these cost more trouble than all the other articles together. They were all, so far as we could judge, of unequal values. The stone was considered worthless, except for the little band of metal with which it was clasped. The brooch was only about half the weight of the ingot, and it was not counted precious, because already each of us had three like it, while the small pile of silver fragments was not worth half the ingot {i}. I thought I was acting very fairly when I suggested that Hercus should have what remained, because, I said, if it had not been for him we would have had nothing at all.
"'Deed you'll do nothing of the kind," objected Kinlay. "What for should Hercus take all?"
"Well, well," I said, somewhat ruffled, I admit, at Tom's greed, "you needn't be so sulky. Take you and divide the things. You'll not do it any fairer."
But Tom saw a way of sharing the things which suited himself, if it did not quite agree with my own views of fairness. To Willie he gave the brooch, to Robbie he passed the pile of fragments; and now he held the two remaining pieces, the ingot of silver and the little black stone. We awaited with much interest his final decision. With an unpleasant flash of his dark eyes he cast the stone to my end of the rude table, and quietly thrust the bar of silver with his other possessions into his capacious pockets.
I tried hard to check the words that rose to my lips. Throughout the afternoon I had noticed Tom's pointed objections to many things I had done or had proposed to do. He had objected to Thora accompanying us on the sealing expedition. He had disagreed with the disposal of the dead hen harrier; other little incidents, most of which had testified to his deep-rooted selfishness, I had not failed to notice. More than all, I remembered how he had pocketed the jewelled fragments of the helmet, and kept the knowledge of their value from us all. As for the opinions of the other two lads regarding him, it was Willie Hercus who had called him a "sneak" in school that morning, and Robbie Rosson, I knew, had certainly no love for Tom, who had persistently bullied him.
"Well, are you not satisfied?" said Kinlay, seeing my undisguised indignation.
"Yes, with my own share," I replied. "But if you'd taken the smaller piece of siller for yourself, and given Willie Hercus yon piece you've taken, I'd have thought you more honourable."
And then I roundly accused him of having stolen the fragments of the helmet.
"You have stolen the things," I said. "You saw that they were of more worth than the rest, and you were afraid that we would want a share of them."
"You're a liar!" he exclaimed angrily.
"And you're a thief!" I retorted; and I walked round to him, determined, if necessary, to defend my accusation in a more practical way than by empty words.
Now, I am confident that Kinlay was almost eager for such a chance as this to pay back many debts which his own jealousy had from time to time conjured up against me. For, apart from the fact that I happened to be a little more brilliant than he in our class at school, there were not wanting indications that he was in other ways losing ground in our common race, and circumstances seemed to require that we should each make a final effort now for the upper hand.
Seeing my determined attitude, he regarded it as a challenge, and at once took off his jacket and held it out for Robbie Rosson to take charge of. Robbie promptly showed the tenor of his feelings by allowing the jacket to fall upon one of the gravestones, and by coming to my side. Hercus merely busied himself in pacifying my dog, which had become restless on hearing our high words.
Kinlay and I now stood face to face, and I almost trembled to think of the thrashing that was probably in store for me. He gave the first blow, which struck me soundly on the side of the head and knocked my cap off. I buttoned my jacket tight and closed with my adversary, yet with small success. The fight was for a few moments unequal. Tom was much the taller, and his big feet, with their hide sandals, seemed to grip the elastic turf. His fists, too, were large and hard, and his lunging strokes were enough to stagger one of our native ponies.
Against this superiority I had to depend upon such power of limb and endurance as I had acquired by long practice at cliff climbing and in swimming the strong currents of Scapa Flow. For a time a heavy blow on my chest disabled me, and my right arm was sorely bruised by the many blows it had suffered in guarding my face. Still, I was determined not to give in; and, just as one gets a second wind in swimming, so did I now feel a new and strange strength come upon me. I continued the conflict with renewed energy.
Stepping backward upon one of the flat tombstones, I once more stood ready to receive my opponent. He struck without effect at my face, and while he was recovering his balance I saw my opportunity, and hit him a strong blow between the eyes. He staggered and fell, and I saw that the fight was over. Rising to his feet he did not retaliate, but picked up his jacket, wrapped his store of the treasure into his seal's skin, and wiping the dripping blood from his nose, walked away across the heath in the direction of Crua Breck, muttering a vow of vengeance.
The combat had been sharp and effectual; but it was the outburst of an antagonism which had long been gathering strength; it was the practical declaration of an enmity that grew and lasted for many a day.
I was oppressed with a weight of weariness by the time that I came within sight of Stromness. After leaving Hercus and Rosson over at Yeskenaby, I met not a person until I reached the shores of Hamla Voe. Here, however, on turning from the moorland path into the main road, I saw a stranger resting upon the low wall at the roadside. He was evidently admiring the scene presented by the quiet bay of Stromness.
A barque lay at anchor in the harbour, her tall, tapering masts and taut ropes clearly defined against the gray sky. Beyond the bright beacon light of the Ness, the sloping island of Graemsay could barely be distinguished from the deep purple mountains of Hoy, and along the line of the bay stood the gabled houses of the town, their dimly-lighted windows reflected on the water.
As I approached the stranger, I saw that he was a seafarer.
"Fine night, sir," I said in salutation as I passed him.
"Ay, very fine. What way is the wind, my lad?"
"Sou'-sou'-west," I replied, looking up at a few flecks of white cloud in the clear sky.
"Are you going on to Stromness? If so, I will walk along with you. That's a fine bird you're carrying. What do you call it?"
"A hen harrier, sir. My dog caught it over on the moor. Is that your barque lying in the bay, sir, the Lydia?"
"Ay; she's a rakish craft, isn't she? We're sailing again in the morning for South America. Do you think we shall have a fair wind, my lad?"
"Yes, if it does not veer round too much to the westward."
"You appear to have studied the weather," he said.
"Yes," I answered. "In Stromness we all notice the wind, and father has taught me to know all the signs of the weather."
"Then your father is a fisherman, I suppose?" he remarked, as he turned to walk down the brae with me.
"Father's a pilot," I said. "I'm Sandy Ericson's lad."
"Ericson! Ah! I know Ericson. He's a splendid fellow, a regular Norseman, in fact."
And then he proceeded to praise my father as I had so often before heard him praised, and with all of which I did not venture to disagree.
He spoke with me until we reached the entrance to the town, where I noticed Andrew Drever, my schoolmaster, walking in advance of us, carrying his rod under his arm and a string of fish in his hand.
"Good evening, sir!" I said, as we overtook him.
"Hello, Halcro, my lad!" he exclaimed, as cheerily as though he had not seen me for weeks.
"Good evening!" said my sailor companion to the dominie. "I see you have some fine trout there."
"Yes," said Andrew, when he had returned the greeting. "They're not so bad, and I've had some fine sport with them. Are you coming from Kirkwall?"
"No," replied the sailor. "I was just up the hill there for a saunter in the gloaming. The gloaming lasts very long here, I notice. What time is it dark in midsummer?"
"In midsummer?" replied Andrew. "Well, it's seldom darker than this; and on the twenty-first of June you can see the sun even at midnight from the top of the Ward Hill yonder. You'll belong to one of the ships here, no doubt, sir?"
"Yes, that barque out there with the tall masts."
"Ay, she came in today. That will be the Lydia, I'm thinking, and you will be Captain Gordon? Bailie Duke was telling me you were in the port. And when do you sail?"
"Tomorrow," said the captain. "We're bound for Brazil; but I was wanting to see some people tonight. Pilot Ericson asked me to smoke a pipe with him. Then I have to see Grace Drever, to--"
"Grace Drever!" exclaimed the dominie, evidently wondering what the sailor could want to see his mother for.
"Yes," continued Captain Gordon. "My ship's overrun with mice, and I was directed to Grace Drever, who, I am told, deals in all the charms and cantrips a sailor can require."
"Charms and cantrips!" echoed the schoolmaster. "Why, who on earth has been putting such notions into your head? I doubt if you go to Grace Drever on such an errand you'll be disappointed, sir."
"You know the old lady, then?" said the captain.
"Just as well as a man can know his own mother," replied Andrew.
"Oh! then, you'll be the schoolmaster? Really, I beg your pardon; but I was told that Mistress Drever had dealings with such things; and although I am not exactly superstitious--"
"Never mind, sir, never mind. It's just some ignorant lads have been making up the story; and it's all one to me, for I know well it's not true. There was once a woman in Stromness, I will allow, who used to sell favourable winds to the sailors. But though there is still a most lamentable amount of superstition in the Orkney folk--belief in witches and warlocks and such nonsense--it's gradually, just gradually, dying away."
"No doubt the influence of your schools," observed the captain, anxious to conciliate.
"Ay, no doubt," said Andrew. "But what was it you were saying about mice?"
"Why, we're just infested with them, and I must get either cats or poison for them, or I'll not say but we may be manned by mice instead of men before we get beyond Cape Wrath."
"My mother has a cat," quietly remarked Andrew, "one of the few we have in Orkney. And though she does not deal in witchery, you might bring her to part with Baudrons. Now, if you'll come home with me and have a taste of these trout--"
"Oh, thanks, thanks, most happy!" said the captain.
Now this, I thought, was a very graceful invitation for Andrew Drever to give to a stranger who had only a few moments before implied that his mother was a witch. But it was a kindness such as he was ever showing; and I must add that Captain Gordon was one of those easy-mannered sailors who at once give an agreeable impression. I myself liked him from the very first, and I had afterwards many reasons for rejoicing in the friendship thus casually made.
"I have something here for you, sir," I said to the schoolmaster, holding up the dead falcon that I carried.
"Oh! come along with us, too, Halcro. Send your dog home, and come and take some supper with me."
I assented, and continued walking by his side as he talked with the captain.
We had now entered the street of Stromness. It was a narrow passage which one might span with arms outstretched, and paved without a causeway--for it was built when there were no vehicles in Orkney--and crooked as the inside of a whelk shell, suggesting starlight smuggling and romantic meetings. In the windows and obscure corners of the passages dim lamps peeped forth in the darkness, and the flickering firelight in the houses fell upon the stones through the open doorways, whereat sailors stood smoking their pipes and gossiping women talked.
We turned up a little lane that led to the schoolhouse, and my dog trotted home without me, to let my mother know I was near.
We found Grace Drever preparing the peat fire for frying the fish. The good old woman did not hear us enter, but Andrew was a punctual man, and it was with no show of surprise that his mother at length recognized his presence.
Grace Drever was an active woman, somewhat bent with age, but with no signs of decaying faculties, save in the case of her extreme deafness. Her hair was still black, and her eyesight was quick. Her memory for local events was as good as an almanac to the people of Stromness, and there was something strangely uncanny about her nature that was itself almost an excuse to those who hinted that she had dealings with the underworld. She was one of the older style of inhabitants, who retained the primitive habits and customs of the island, whose spoken language had in it a mixture of the Norse, which distinguished it from the simpler Scotch dialect familiarly used by us of the younger generation, and yet more from the purer English into which we were drilled at school.
Andrew Drever generally spoke good English in the presence of strangers, though he lapsed into the broad native speech in friendly talk with the fisher folk.
"I hae brought Captain Gordon wi' me to hae a taste o' the trout," he said to his mother as we entered the room, where she bent over the fire.
"Gordon! Gordon! I dinna ken ony Gordon. What's the name o' his ship?"
"He belongs to the Lydia, the barque that cam' in this forenoon."
"Aw, yes, I ken his ship, but I dinna ken the captain. Yes, yes, he'll get a taste o' the troot, I warrant him that."
Then turning to Mr. Gordon, she continued: "Ye were never in Stromness afore, captain? No? Ye maun speak loud--it's terrible dull o' hearing I am."
The captain looked at Grace as she applied a strange, shell-like horn to her right ear, and went closer to him.
"The Lydia has a great many mice on board," said the captain.
"Ay, you'll be takin' it out to America for the black folk, no doubt. It's terrible hot in America, they say. But where got you the ice? Not from Leith?"
"He didna say ice," interposed Andrew. "The captain says his ship's full o' mice."
"Ah, mice! What for does he not get a cat?"
"It's your own cat he was wanting to get," said Andrew.
"My cat! my Baudrons! Troth, I dinna think I could part with Baudrons. I'm terrible fond of Baudrons. Was there not a cat in Stromness forbye mine?"
Grace said this as she selected some of the largest trout and took them away to clean.
As I sat on a chair near the door, weary after my long tramp with the heavy burden of silver and the dead hawk, and somewhat bruised by my fight, Mr. Drever and the captain engaged in a long conversation relating to the Orkneys. But during an interval of their talk I ventured to draw the schoolmaster's attention to the dead bird that I had brought for him.
"We caught this bird over on the moor the day, sir," I said, "and I brought it, thinking ye'd like to put it in one o' your glass cases."
"Man, Halcro, but that's a bonny specimen! A harrier, a hen harrier, I declare! 'Deed but it will be a right fine addition to our collection. And what way did ye kill it, d'ye say? Not wi' a gun, surely?"
"No; it was flying after a peewit, and the dog caught it. Willie Hercus thrawed its neck."
"Well, well, that's most amazing. How I wish I'd been with you. I'd rather hae caught a harrier than a hundred sea trout."
"Did ye get some good fishing at the Bush, sir?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, ay, very good, very good; thanks to those hooks o' yours, Halcro. I left a dozen trout wi' Jack Paterson's wife, and a dozen wi' Mary Firth, and these I brought home. That's no sae bad, is it?"
Then, when he had satisfied his admiration of the dead hawk, he took us into the schoolroom, to show the captain his cases of stuffed birds and animals. Already he had determined that he would mount the hawk in the attitude of swooping down upon a lapwing.
It turned out that Captain Gordon was interested in birds, and knew a good deal about their habits. I remember he told us of a swallow which had once flown on board his ship when they were over a thousand miles from any land, and of how the bird, exhausted by its long flight, allowed him to hold it in his hand and feed it with small insects taken from the decayed timbers of the ship.
When we were seated at the table over our meal of fried trout, I had to relate my experiences of the afternoon, which I did from beginning to end, omitting only the circumstance of my fight with Kinlay. I did not wish to say anything against a schoolmate, and an account of the fight would have involved unpleasant explanations. The two men listened with attention to my account of the sealing; but they were incredulous when I told them about finding the hidden silver. When the table was cleared, however, and I spread out the contents of the seal's skin, Grace and they gathered round in astonishment and eagerly examined the curiosities by the light of the hanging lamp and the flaming peats.
Captain Gordon weighed the bars of silver in an imaginary balance in his hand, and gave his opinion as to their weight. The neck rings and brooches also engaged his attention; but Andrew Drever found greater interest in the ancient coins, which he carefully examined, endeavouring to decipher the rough inscriptions upon them. Most of the coins were foreign, but there were two which he recognized as English--a Peter's penny of the tenth century, and an older coin, which he told me was nearly a thousand years old, bearing the name Aethelstan Rex. I cannot describe his delight in looking over these little pieces of silver, or his satisfaction when I offered to let him take charge of them until we determined what should be done with the collection.
When the interest in my treasures had somewhat abated, Mr. Drever and the captain exchanged conjectures concerning the probable origin of what we had discovered at Skaill Bay. They could come to no issue by all their arguments, until I chanced to mention once more the incident of the rat and its curious hiding place in the skull.
"A skull! a human skull!" exclaimed the dominie. "Why, that explains it all. I can see it now. I can see it clearly!"
"See what clearly?" inquired the captain.
"This," said Andrew with a tone of conviction, "that what the lads have discovered is nothing less than the grave of Kierfiold Haffling, the great viking of Orkney."
Then turning to the captain he continued: "You see, Captain Gordon, it was the custom of the old sea kings to bury their dead heroes in caves on the seashore, or to place the body in a boat and send it drifting to sea on its long voyage. In either case it was usual to dress the hero in full battle array, with helmet, sword, and shield, to enable him to fight his way to Valhalla. These relics here of Ericson's, and those that the other lads have gotten, are just such things as would be buried in a viking's grave. The human skull in their midst puts the matter beyond a doubt."
"Curious, very curious!" murmured Captain Gordon. "But, sir, how do you identify this supposed grave with that of the particular warrior you have mentioned?"
"Kierfiold Haffling? Oh, well, you see, captain, I may be making a mistake; but, as it happens, I have seen a runic inscription over at Stenness which expressly states that the Jarl Haffling was buried with his earthly treasures to the northwest of the Maes Howe. Now, the Bay of Skaill, where the lads made the discovery, is exactly northwest of Stenness. The one thing that surprises me is that the treasure was not found long since, for the inscription has clearly indicated its position, and has further stated that 'happy is he who discovers this great wealth.' It seems to me, however, that no person ever thought of searching within the tide line."
"But, after all," said the captain, "the wealth does not seem so enormous. Why, I would hesitate to offer a ten-pound note for the whole lot."
"No, it is not indeed enormous, in a worldly sense, I admit. But you must consider the importance of the discovery from what I may call an archaeological point of view. You see the relics have a historical value, Mr. Gordon."
The schoolmaster then turned to me and said:
"I think, Halcro, it's a pity that you lads didn't keep these things all together, and bring them here as ye found them. What for did ye divide them, as though they were so many blackberries? Ye couldn't do anything with them--ye can't sell the things."
"It was Tom Kinlay said he thought we should share them, sir. I didn't think we were doing wrong."
"Tom Kinlay kens nothing about such matters, Halcro. Just you get the three other lads to bring each his share to me. I will look after it and see that ye dinna lose anything. You see, although ye found the treasure, you lads, it doesn't rightly belong to you. No doubt ye'll be rewarded in some way for your find; but I must tell you that the law will not let you keep it to yoursels. A person finding treasure of this sort can have only a third part of its value. Is that not so, Mr. Gordon?"
"Yes," said the captain, "I fancy you're right, Mr. Drever. Of course you refer to the law of treasure trove?"
"Exactly," agreed the master. Then turning to me, he continued:
"You see, Halcro, the Crown will claim a share of it, and the laird gets another part. So ye'd better let the other lads ken about this. Let them understand that they are breaking the law if they keep their discovery a secret."
"Yes, sir, I'll tell Rosson and Hercus before school time in the morning."
"And Kinlay?" said Mr. Drever, looking questioningly in my face.
"Maybe you'd better speak to him yoursel, sir," I returned, almost afraid to say that my companionship with Tom was at an end.
"Hello! what's in the wind in that quarter? A quarrel, eh? I have noticed that scratch on your cheek. Has that anything to do with Kinlay?"
I put my hand to my cheek and found that there was blood there. I had received a scratch that I was before unconscious of.
"Well, sir," I said, "Kinlay and I did have a bit of a fight over at Bigging. There was a dispute over the sharing of the treasure."
And then I thought of the small black stone that Tom had given me as an equivalent of the bar of silver he had appropriated for himself. It was not amongst the articles I had shown to the schoolmaster and the captain. I thought that I had perhaps left it lying on the gravestone; but searching my pockets, I at last found it in one of them, where I had carelessly thrust it when the fight began. I placed it on the table before Captain Gordon, who examined it curiously.
"What d'you make of this, sir?" asked he, turning to the dominie. "The stone, if it is a stone at all, looks worthless; and yet I see this ring round it is the only piece of metal that is neither silver nor bronze, but gold."
"Gold!" I exclaimed, bending over to look at it.
"Yes, gold undoubtedly," said the captain.
Grace Drever, who had said little during the examination of the store of silver coins and ingots beyond asking questions as to the manner of our finding it, and giving utterance to such ejaculations as "Losh me!" and "Saw ever onybody the likes o' that?" now took the black stone in her hand, and having pondered over it for a while, said, holding up her finger to me:
"Laddie, take care of this peerie {ii} thing. It will be of more worth to thee than all the other gear together."
I did not quite understand. The gold ring, I thought, could not surely be worth more than that heap of silver. And yet Grace was so serious in what she said that I could scarcely doubt her word.
I was about to ask her for an explanation when we were interrupted by the lifting of the latch of the door, and a rush of cold air made the lamp light flicker.
We all turned to the door to see the cause of this interruption. It was my sister Jessie who entered, and paused on the threshold as she observed the presence of a stranger. She wore no covering on her head, and her brown hair fell in natural curls on her shoulders and about her neck.
Captain Gordon rose politely and stood with his hands clasping the back of his chair. Jessie raised her large dark eyes towards him for a moment and looked confused.
I think this was the first time in my life that I felt conscious that my sister was more beautiful than any other Orkney girl I knew, with the one exception of Thora Kinlay. She was at that time nineteen years of age; she was tall and graceful, and very easy in her movements. It is true she had no accomplishments, such as those of Bailie Duke's daughters; but her education in Mr. Drever's school had been sound, and she could keep house as well as any fisherman's wife in Orkney, and row a boat as well as any lad.
"Was it Halcro ye were seeking, Jessie?" asked old Grace, as though my sister's presence there was a matter of as little concern to her as the presence of the old German clock in the corner of the room.
"Yea," said Jessie. "His dog came home without him, and we were feared he had gone ower the cliffs, or that some other mischance had happened him.
"Where have ye been, Halcro, so late as ye are? You should have been in your bed lang syne."
As I went to the nail for my cap, the dominie introduced Captain Gordon to Jessie. She greeted the sailor without ceremony--for in Orkney we are not demonstrative in this particular. But the officer held out his hand, and she took it with evident confusion. I think she could not have failed to notice the difference between this handsome young man and the gray-haired, toddy-drinking captains who usually came into Stromness and hung about our home in the Anchor Close.
Captain Gordon did not sit down again. Perhaps the mention of the name Ericson reminded him of his appointment with my father. But he had not yet effected his purpose of securing Grace Drever's cat, and he turned to the old woman, asking her again if she would part with Baudrons.
Grace, I do not doubt, had been impressed by the open-hearted bearing of the captain, and I had noticed his kindly way of addressing her, so that she might hear him without effort. But she looked fondly at her cat as he sat before the crimson fire, licking his lips after the fish bones he had eaten. Few mice or rats came in his way, but--luck for Baudrons--there was an abundance of fish, and the wild birds that Andrew brought home supplied him with many a stolen banquet.
There was one ruling passion in Baudrons, and that was his desire to gain possession of the noisy jackdaw which so often disturbed him with its steady shining eyes as they looked down at him from behind the wicker bars of the cage. I believe Baudrons anticipated the death of Peter as the crowning achievement of his life; and had he been consulted in the matter of the Lydia he might have shown some reluctance to enter the community of mice before he had compassed the jackdaw's death.
Grace was finally prevailed upon--much to the satisfaction of the dominie--to give up her cat; and it was arranged that I should take Baudrons out to the ship before school time on the following morning.
I was preparing to leave with Jessie and Captain Gordon, when Mrs. Drever called me to her near the fire.
"Come here, Halcro, laddie. Tak the peerie stone, see, and have a care that ye dinna lose it;" and she handed to me the little black stone.
Mr. Drever was standing beside her, and I looked to him to ask if I should take possession of this much of the viking's treasure.
"Take it, take it, Halcro," he said. "There can be no harm in your keeping it--at least until we find whether the authorities claim it or not. I canna think that there would be any money value in it to speak of. But you'd better be careful not to lose it at any rate."
"But the thing is of no use to me, sir, is it?" I asked.
"That's for you to find out, Halcro," said he. "You see it is a sort of charm, or amulet. The old Scandinavian vikings used to carry such things about with them, in the belief that by so doing they would be protected from all personal harm. Our Jarl Haffling, I suppose, wore this same amulet at his neck to ensure his safety through the perils of the battle and the storm. No doubt he believed that the possession of such a talisman gave him a charmed existence. The sea could not drown him, sword could not wound him, fortune favoured him, so long as he wore this little stone on his breast."
"And yet, sir, the Jarl Haffling came to his grave in the Bay of Skaill," I said incredulously.
"Ay, lad, so he did, so he did. But we must suppose that Odin, the god of the Norsemen, had thought it time to reward him by calling him off from his earthly battles to the Halls of Valhalla."
Captain Gordon here approached us, and whilst he and Mr. Drever were bidding each other goodnight, I stood looking into the fire, meditating upon the strange thing my schoolmaster had told me. I put the little stone securely into my breast pocket, feeling the new responsibility I bore in being guarded by such a mysterious influence; for I did not doubt that the protection given by my talisman to the dead viking would now be extended to myself.
Grace Drever had some instructions to give me regarding the taking away of her cat, and when I left her my sister Jessie and Captain Gordon were already walking together down the brae. I soon overtook them. Jessie was questioning the captain about his ship.
"Father was saying she's a very good ship," said she; "but I think mysel' that her masts are ower high; and if ye were taken in one o' the spring gales off the Orkneys you'd find that they are, Mr. Gordon."
"Did the pilot say that our masts are too high, Miss Ericson?" asked the captain.
"Nay, I was thinkin' it mysel'," said Jessie, "when I saw the barque lying near the Holms. High masts are good, I will allow, for carrying a heap o' sails, but our whaling ships never have masts so high as yours."
"Well, but you must understand," urged the sailor, "that we are not bound for Davis Straits as your whalers are that went out today. In the tropical seas, where there is often a calm lasting several days, we need high masts and widespread sails, Miss Ericson."
"Yes, I ken that well enough," argued Jessie. "But I have seen many a good ship wrecked on the Black Craigs in the spring time, and I can aye tell when a ship will come back safe to Stromness."
Captain Gordon seemed to treat my sister's criticism of his ship very lightly; but as events turned out, her warning was perhaps justifiable.
When we turned into the Anchor Close, we found my father standing at the house door, smoking his pipe and looking out for us.
"Where has the lad been?" he asked of Jessie before he greeted the captain.
"I found him up at the dominie's," she explained.
And then she held out her hand to Mr. Gordon.
"Fare ye well, Captain Gordon!" she said; "fare ye well, and a good voyage to you!"
And she glided past him into the house.
"Was the lass speakin' wi' you, skipper?" asked my father.
"Yes," said Gordon. "She was telling me that my barque's masts are too high."
"Ay! but it's no' sae often that she'll speak wi' a man. She's a blate lass wi' maist folk. But what kens she about a vessel's masts, I wonder?"
My father, with his hands deep in his trousers pockets, then stepped down to the jetty and looked through the darkness towards the Lydia.
"Ay, but I'm no that sure about it either, Skipper. The masts are higher than ordinary. But ye'll come ben the house and smoke a pipe, maybe?"
"Thank you, pilot, I don't mind--just for a half hour before I go out to the ship."
My father thereupon led the way within, and placed an easy chair for Mr. Gordon under the large hurricane lamp that hung from the low ceiling, and cast its yellow light about the room. The skipper glanced rapidly at the dark, old-fashioned furniture, at the high-backed chairs, cushioned with the skins of seals, the strong teak-wood sideboard, and the heavy round table, upon which stood a quaint Dutch spirit bottle and a couple of horn drinking cups. He looked at the several pictures of ships battling with terrible storms, and at the pensive porcupine in its dusty glass case, and then at the array of firearms and harpoons above the door of the press bed. My dog Selta lay sound asleep upon a large polar-bear skin before the fire. Had he approached her and looked up the wide chimney he might have seen there the remains of our winter stock of smoked geese and hams hanging in the midst of the "reek."
"I suppose you have been sailing foreign a good deal in your time, pilot?" said Mr. Gordon, when he was seated.
He had got this notion, no doubt, from having observed the many foreign ornaments and weapons about the room.
"No," said my father, "I hae never been abroad. All my life has been spent in the Mainland."
"You mean Scotland--the mainland of Scotland?" said the captain, not seeming to understand the meaning of the "Mainland," which I may here explain is our local name for Pomona island--the largest of the Orkneys.
"No, I didna mean Scotland, skipper--though, to be sure, I hae been over there many a time. We call this the Mainland, where we are just now. Many folks make the same mistake about that. I mind of a skipper named Jock Abernethy. Jock had a brig o' his ain, though he kent naething aboot navigation, whatever. Weel, a lang while past it is noo, he was takin' his brig frae Portree, in Skye, across to the West Indies. His crew was nae better nor himsel'. Weel, when they had been at sea twa or three months, Jock cam on deck ae mornin', and, 'Donald,' says he to his mate, 'd'ye not see land yonder to starboard?'
"'Ay, sir,' says Donald; 'I'm just thinkin' it will be the West Indies.'
"'You're right there, Donald, the West Indies it is,' says Jock. 'See, yonder's the black folk sittin' waitin' for us!' and he pointed to the cormorants perched on the rocks.
"So the brig was hauled round, and when she was near inshore a pilot boat cam oot to them. Jock hailed the pilot: 'What land is that?' he cried.
"'It's the Mainland!' sings out the pilot.
"'What! the mainland o' America?' asks Jock, thinkin' he had missed the Indies.
"'No, ye duffer, the Mainland o' Orkney, to be sure,' says the pilot. 'What other Mainland is there?'"
As I sat on my low stool by the fire, my mother and Jessie being in the inner room, I took the viking's charm from my pocket and examined it. Captain Gordon had lighted his pipe, and when my father's anecdote was finished he said:
"Now, Halcro, my lad, lay aft here and let us have another look at that magic stone of yours."
And then, as I handed it to him, he proceeded to tell my father of our discovery of the treasure.
The two men discussed the probable value of what we had found, and I felt some disappointment in their estimate of what the dominie might be able to sell the relics for.
"It is very good to find these things," said my father, blowing a mist of tobacco smoke from amidst his beard. "But what use are they, whatever? Nae use ava! The dominie might send them to the museum folk at Edinburgh, and he would get mebbe a pickle pounds for them--hardly enough for the lads to buy an auld boat wi'. I wouldna be bothered wi' the things."
"What was it the old woman was saying about this stone, though, Halcro?" asked the captain.
I repeated what Grace Drever told me--how the stone might protect me from accident and from the monsters of the sea; from the kraken and the kelpie, the warlocks and the wirracows; and how, having the charm at my neck, I need never fear climbing a cliff or entering upon the most dangerous adventure.
"And do you believe all this, my lad?" asked Captain Gordon, taking his pipe from his lips and addressing me.
"Well," I returned, with an earnestness that must have shown that I had not the smallest doubt upon the matter, "auld Grace Drever said it was 'as true as death,' and the dominie did not deny that it was 'just possible.' What for should I not believe it? and what for would the stone be bound with the gold ring and buried with the other gear if it were not of some value beyond ordinary?"
"Och! but I dinna doot there will be something in the stone," said my father, who, at the mention of the dominie's belief, cast away all questioning. "And it will not be the first time I have heard of such cantrips."
And he told us of a man named Willie Reoch, a fisherman, who was preserved from the great Bore of Papa Westray in some such way. Willie Reoch and three other fishers were away at the saith fishing, and when their boat was driven by the wind near to the Bore, they were drawn under by the whirling current and swamped. Reoch had round his neck a charm which Bessie Millie, the witch, had given to him, and so was the only one saved.
"Na, na," continued my father, "I dinna doot there will be something wondersome in the stone; and if any person would have such a thing, who would it be but the Norseman?"
Thus did I become convinced in my mind that, by the possession of that little gold-encircled stone, I bore a charmed life.
That night I lay with my precious talisman under my pillow. I thought of the events of the afternoon, and, remembering my fight with Tom Kinlay, attributed my victory over him to the influence which that talisman, then in my pocket, had already begun to work. I tried to imagine what kind of adventures had befallen the old viking whose bones we had disturbed, and wondered if I should ever encounter any similar perils. My opportunities of adventure were fewer than his could have been; but I determined to give my full trust to the mysterious aid in which Jarl Haffling had trusted in the ancient days. Then I heard my father unmooring the boat from the pier to take Captain Gordon out to his ship, and as the sound of the oars in the rowlocks died away in the night I fell asleep.
I was up and about on the following morning when the town was yet asleep. A cool, dewy mist hung in the air, and the rising sun spread a rosy bloom on the eastern sky. When I arrived at Andrew Drever's house there was no one moving within, but the door was not locked, and quietly lifting the latch I went inside to find the cat Baudrons, that I might take him out to the Lydia according to my promise.
I made so little noise that even the jackdaw did not seem to notice my entrance, and I looked to his cage on the side table. To my surprise the cage door was standing wide open and Peter was not there. But presently, from the school room, I heard him chattering and croaking. Following the sound of his voice I discovered the bird perched high upon the dominie's desk looking down at Baudrons, who crouched below him on the floor in the very act of preparing to spring, his checks swelled out and his great tail lashing the dusty floor. The door creaked as I opened it, and before I could interfere the cat was upon the desk with Peter struggling in his claws. Peter left a few black feathers in Baudron's possession, and escaping, flew over to the table by the window, where he hopped about with the greatest coolness, muttering, "William the Conqueror, ten sixty-six"--words which he had gathered from our history lessons in the school. Baudrons was after him in a moment.
And now followed a terrible encounter. Instead of flying away the bird deliberately met the cat and stabbed at him valiantly with his long, heavy beak. They fell over on the floor together, and as they struggled, amid much noise of growling and chattering and flapping of wings, I flung my cap at them, trying to effect a separation. Alas! before I could help the dominie's pet, the cat had the uppermost of him, and ran off into the schoolmaster's private room with the jackdaw held firmly in his teeth.
I followed, and tried to make the animal loosen his grip of poor Peter. He growled and spat as I approached him, and, fearing for the jackdaw's life, I hammered with my fist upon the door of the schoolmaster's press bed and called out: "Mr. Drever! Mr. Drever!"
The dominie opened the bed door and sprang out to the rescue, his red woollen nightcap upon his head. But his help was of little use. We managed to get the cat away from his prey; but the bird was fatally injured, blood was dripping from his neck as the good man took him up in his hands caressingly.
"Poor Peter, poor Peter!" said he; "who has done this thing?"
"William the Conqueror," faintly uttered the bird.
Then giving a few feeble croaks, he died in the schoolmaster's hands.
Andrew Drever's tender emotion grew into anger as he thought of the murderer of his pet jackdaw, and he paced the room vowing vengeance against his mother's cat, which had now escaped into comparative security on the top of the kitchen cupboard.
"Come down here, ye wretch!" he exclaimed, taking up a knife from the table and holding it up threateningly. "Come down here, ye foul fiend. How dare ye touch a feather o' my Peter's wing?"
"Dinna kill the cat, sir," I interposed, reminding him that I was there to take the animal aboard the Lydia.
"Man, Halcro," said Andrew, sobering down, "I wish you had taken him away yestreen. But come, let us catch the brute and away with him, for he shall not bide in this house another hour."
While Mr. Drever got an empty meal bag and held it open, I took a long broom handle, and, standing on a chair, forced the cat to come down. We chased the animal about the room until we cornered him, when, putting the meal bag over his head, we made him a secure prisoner. Tying up the bag with a string, and cutting some breathing holes, I carried the captive cat away, leaving Andrew Drever to grieve over the death of Peter the jackdaw.
When I rowed out to the Lydia in my little boat, the mist had melted away in the warmth of the sun. The gray town, with its blue film of peat smoke slowly rising into the clear air, was reflected upon the smooth water that lapped and lisped against the stone piers. The bubbling track of my boat as she plunged and curtsied in obedience to the oar strokes alone disturbed the calm surface of the bay; but beyond the shelter of the harbour a brisk breeze fluttered the Blue Peter at the barque's foremast, and I did not fail to notice that it came from a favourable quarter.
Father was already aboard when my boat scraped gently along the ship's side, and he threw a rope end down to me to climb up by.
Captain Gordon shook hands with me when I reached the quarterdeck.
"Well, my lad," said he, "how d'ye think the Lydia looks for sea?"
"She looks well and trim," I said, untying the mouth of the meal bag; "but I notice she has a slight list to the port side."
"A list to port!" said he looking forward. "Ha! that's unlucky. I wish it had been to starboard; but as it's not much, the men may not notice it. I fancy they'll see more of ill luck in this cat."
When I opened the bag, Baudrons escaped with a good dusting of flour on his fur. The cat looked wildly uneasy; he showed no signs of that gentle docility which Grace Drever admired in him; but with his cheeks puffed out and the loose skin about his nose and head drawn up in uncanny wrinkles, he dashed across the deck once or twice, lashing his tail from side to side like a savage brute, and then, approaching the main hatchway, he made a great spring down the hold, there to enjoy himself amongst the mice.
While all was busy on deck, Captain Gordon took my father and me below to his cabin. It was a neatly fitted-up room with many books and pictures and maritime instruments that interested me. What most attracted my attention was the captain's private collection of fishing tackle and his armoury. There were some fine landing nets and rods with bright brass rings and reels, and the artificial flies were quite confusing in their number and variety. In the armoury were several six shooters of different patterns, and many double-barrelled guns and ornamented rifles. Captain Gordon allowed me to handle some of these, and he explained their mechanism to me.
One little fowling piece that I examined was so light and so beautifully made that I returned to it again and again while the captain and my father were talking together. It had a long steel barrel with delicate engraving upon it, and a carved stock. I was admiring the spring of the trigger work when Captain Gordon asked me if I was a good shot.
"I have never fired a gun in my life," I said.
To my surprise he said, "You may have that gun in your hand if you'll accept it."
"O, but I canna think of taking it from you, captain!" I replied.
"No, no, he'll shoot himself," objected my father; "and that will not be so good as if he fell ower the cliffs. What will the lad want wi' a gun?"
"But I'd like to give it him, pilot. He'll soon learn how to use it properly.
"Won't you, Halcro?
"And as for shooting himself, why, remember the magic stone, pilot."
Father muttered something to the effect that it was very good of the captain; and I, who was overwhelmed with gratitude for his kindness, feebly added my thanks. So Captain Gordon gave me the fowling piece, together with a canister of gunpowder, and sufficient swan shot, I thought, to kill all the wild fowl in Orkney.
As I was leaving the ship, joyous in the possession of these ample materials for a whole summer of sport, and was bidding farewell to Captain Gordon, the mate came towards us at the rail and touched his hat.
"Well, Marshall, d'you want anything sent ashore?" asked the skipper.
"Yes, sir," said Marshall, "I want to tell you that the men are grumbling about this cat being brought aboard. You know how superstitious they are. They want the lad to take it away with him again."
"Their objections are silly and childish, Marshall," said Mr. Gordon. "They know that the ship is overrun with mice."
"Yes, yes, sir; that's all very well. But they won't have the cat aboard; and I think you'd better have the beast sent off."
"The men are a pack of fools. What harm can the poor cat do them, I'd like to know? They think it's unlucky, I suppose. Well, if they will have it so, send a couple of them down the hold to capture the animal. We must just bear the mice if the cat cannot remain. Look smart, now, the boy's in a hurry to get to his school."
Two men were then sent below to search for Baudrons, and I waited for their return. In about a quarter of an hour one of them came to say that the cat could not be found.
"Very well, then, I can't keep the lad here any longer. We must send the cat ashore with the pilot."
Then the captain turned to me.
"Goodbye, Halcro, my lad!" he said; "perhaps we'll be back in Orkney on our homeward voyage. Maybe you'll be a pilot yourself by that time, and bring us into port. Goodbye!"
"Goodbye, Captain Gordon!" I murmured; and at that I slipped over the taffrail and was soon sitting in my boat again, rowing back to the town.
On my way to the school that morning I chanced to meet Hercus and Rosson coming down one of the side alleys.
"I say, lads," I began, "d'ye ken what Dominie Drever says about the siller things we found at Skaill?"
"No! what is it, Hal?" asked Hercus.
"Why, he says that it was an old sea king's grave that we discovered--one of those viking lads that we read about in the history book."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Rosson.
"Yes, and he says that we must take all the siller to him at the school. There's some law about it all, and we canna keep the things. We maun give them up."
"Will ye give your share up, Hal?" asked Hercus.
"I hae done so already," I said. "I left it wi' the dominie yestreen."
The lads looked at each other, but neither offered any objection.
"Oh, very well!" said Rosson, "I'll bring mine down i' the mornin'."
"And I mine," echoed Hercus.
During the first lesson in school it was noticed that Tom Kinlay was absent.
"Where is your brother this morning, Thora?" asked Mr. Drever.
"Please, sir," said Thora, "I was to tell you that he's not to come to the school again. They're buildin' a new boat for father at Kirkwall, an' Tom's to be aboard of her."
I thought it curious that Carver Kinlay should have a boat built in Kirkwall, and not by our own local builder, Tammy Lang, of Stromness. And what could this new boat be intended for?
"Ay, Thora, but that's somewhat sudden!" said the dominie. "Why did he not wait till the end o' the week?"
Thora raised her blue eyes in my direction as though she would appeal to me for an explanation. I did not then know, however, that the true and immediate cause of Tom's absence was that he was not in a fit condition to appear among his companions that morning on account of the blow I had given him during our fight on the previous evening.
After school time Thora came to me and told me of her brother's return from the sealing expedition; of how he rushed into the house with his nose bleeding. And she explained that, as they sat at their porridge in the morning, she had noticed the purple patches under his eyes and the swelling of the bridge of his nose.
I own that I felt extremely sorry for having inflicted these injuries upon Tom, nor could I wholly hide from Thora the actual cause of them. But when Mr. Drever asked about him Thora knew as little of that cause as I did of the effect of my blow upon Tom's nose.
Notwithstanding the many little quarrels between her brother and herself, Thora was too generous to be glad at his misfortune; but I fancied there was a glance of satisfaction in her eyes when I said to her:
"It was a fight that we had, Thora. Tom and I quarrelled over some old siller things we found across at Skaill when we were at the sealing."
"And which of ye beat the other, Halcro?" she asked, with almost a boy's interest in a stand-up fight. "But I needna ask that, surely; for I can see fine that Tom had the worst of it. If it werena for that wee scratch on your cheek I wouldn't hae kenned ye had been in a fight; but as for Tom, why, he's just a perfect sight to look upon!"
I need hardly say that my quarrel with Kinlay did in no wise alter the friendship that existed between Thora and me. I had for her a fondness which Tom's bullying and tyranny had no power to diminish. Thora, indeed, was a girl whom none except those who were influenced by envy could help admiring. She was the favourite of all the school, and amongst us, her only enemy was her brother. My own sympathy with her was all the greater because I knew that she was so much the subject of his rule. I knew how he had forced her to obey him, and to bend before all his humours and his whims, and I was sorry for, whilst I was still unable to help her. In this servitude we had been companions, in common with Rosson and Hercus; and many a time had she come to me, with tears in her eyes, to tell me of some new act of tyranny that she had suffered at her brother's hands.
On one such occasion I found her down at the shore side with little Hilda Paterson. She had been going out on the bay to paddle about in a small boat that Tom was in the habit of using. He saw the two girls taking the oars, and straightway he ordered them ashore, striking Thora on the cheek, himself taking possession of the boat.
The two girls were standing in their disappointment on the beach when I came up and heard their story.
"Never mind, Thora," I said. "Come along wi' me. I'll get my father's dinghy, and we three will go for a fine sail."
I rowed them out beyond the Holms, for it was a bright calm day; and when we got out into the breezy bay the mast was stepped, the little lug sail hoisted, and then we went speeding over to Graemsay island like a sheer water skimming the waves. Graemsay was our imagined El Dorado, and on the voyage we fancied ourselves encountering many surprising adventures. Shipwrecks and sea fights were by no means uncommon events. We threw spars of wood over the stern, and at the cry of "Man overboard!" the ship was put about to pick him up. But while we easily overcame these imagined disasters, there were some real dangers to encounter, and in the midst of our merry talk and laughter we had ever to keep a careful watch on the conduct of the boat, and to look out for the safest channels and the sunken rocks. Hilda, who regarded the approach of an imagined iceberg with complacency, became really timid when she noticed a heavy squall coming towards us from the outer sea; and until the sail had been lowered, and our bow hove round to meet the breeze and let it pass, I believe she was not quite confident that I was able to manage the boat in safety.
Thora had often referred to this pleasant sail, and the few primroses I had gathered for her on the banks of a rivulet running down one of the Graemsay glens she had worn at her neck for many days. Many a time when, from our place in the class, she had seen through the window the red-sailed fishing boats battling with the sudden gusts of wind in the rapid currents of the Sound, she would look as though she would remind me of the way we had managed the dinghy in the same dangerous flow. Thus did she begin to trust me, as mariners trusted my father.
If it had not been that during the lessons, in common with his pupils, Andrew Drever took a secret pleasure in looking through the little window across Stromness harbour, and, from his position at the desk, watching the movements of the shipping, it is probable he would have erected some curtain there. The window offered a distraction to us all, for it often took our attention from our tasks, and caused many interruptions in the course of the day. But, as I have indicated, Andrew was not a severe taskmaster, and that, perhaps, was one reason of our affection for him.
This morning his glances were divided between the empty bird cage at the door and the barque now making ready for sea. His poor jackdaw with its chattering--a sound once so monotonous and wearying, now most earnestly wished for--was gone, but the murderer of his pet, the brutal Baudrons, was now closely stowed away under the main hatches of the Lydia, and the dominie had his revenge.
There was at least one other pair of eyes watching the trim barque, as her unfurled canvas caught the breeze and she sped away like a graceful gull. To my sister Jessie, whom, after school, I found sitting by the little pier at the Anchor Close, the vessel seemed to be carrying away one who had suddenly awakened in her a new interest in life. Captain Gordon had spoken but little with her, he was still but a stranger, but so seldom did she have speech with any man, that this meeting with one so brave and handsome as the captain of the Lydia naturally made a deep impression upon her.
I should not, however, have remarked anything unusual in Jessie--except perhaps that she was less active with her fingers--had not my mother, who came out to wash some dishes in the sea, taken notice of my sister's vacant eyes.
"One would fancy, Jessie," said my mother--"one would fancy that there was no wind out yonder that you send so many sighs to fill the captain's sails. What like a man is he?"
"Dinna ask such questions, mother," said Jessie. "I saw him only in the gloaming. His voice was like the sighing of the waves and his eyes were like the seal's. Ah! he'll not come back again to Stromness, never again;" and as Jessie gave another sigh the ship disappeared behind the Ness.
For long afterwards Jessie would speak of Captain Gordon, and I noticed with what concern she heard each reference to him, made by either myself or my father. Even the gun which the captain had given me was some sort of a solace to her, for whenever I was cleaning the weapon she would take it in her hands and admire the elegant workmanship displayed in the ornamented stock and the bright steel barrel, and then lay it down with a gentle sigh, and I knew she was thinking of Mr. Gordon.
I availed myself of an early opportunity of trying my new gun. One afternoon I found Robbie Rosson down at the shore side. He was standing near to my boat, which was moored to the jetty, and looking as though he would give anything for a sail in her.
"Are ye going for a sail today, Hal?" he asked meekly.
"Ay, I'll go, if you'll come with me, Robbie," I agreed. "If ye like we'll take a run o'er to Hoy Head. I'll bring my gun, and we'll have a shot at the geese."
Robbie's face brightened up at the prospect, and I went indoors to fetch the gun and a supply of ammunition; also my climbing ropes, in case we needed them.
We were soon in the boat. Robbie took the oars and rowed out until we could hoist the little sail, and then we rounded the Ness and got out into Hoy Sound. The wind was westward, and the current in our favour, so that we had a grand sail across the sound to the Kame of Hoy--Robbie at the tiller, and I sitting near him on the windward gunwale. How our boat danced along and curtsied on the green curling waves! How her bows lifted and fell and sent a belt of foam alongside and away behind us in a bubbling track! O, it was glorious, that sail across to Hoy! Sitting there in the sunshine, the fresh breeze blowing in our faces, we had nothing to do but tend the helm and keep the boat well to the wind, and away we sped.
Our enjoyment of the sail was so full that we spoke but little. We talked of Tom Kinlay's work on his father's new boat, and made surmises as to the nature of the trade or traffic it was to be engaged in; but whether the boat was to be sent to the saith fishing, or to be used as a tender to the ships, we could not tell.
There was one thing that Robbie wanted to set his mind easy about, and that was the viking's amulet. In common with all the lads in the school, he had heard of the wonderful powers attributed to this little stone; and, like them, he was thoroughly credulous of its ability to preserve me from personal harm, vet anxious as I was myself to put it to the proof.
"I'd like fine if we could have a chance of adventure today," he said, taking the stone in his hand as it hung by a cord from my neck. "How can we be sure that the thing will be the saving of you, if ye dinna put it to the trial?"
"We'll see, we'll see," I said. "But there's no use seeking danger for the sake of trying the effects of the charm. Maybe we'll find the danger without seeking it, however, and then we'll have the proof."
As we sailed swiftly under the high cliffs of Hoy Head we watched the mad plunging of the landward-rushing waves, and saw them hurl themselves at the great rocks, leaping in clouds of spray. What a rattle and a roar each wave made on the pebbles of the beach as it drew back before returning to the charge! And in the midst of the foam the sea birds circled and screamed in their flight.
We had some difficulty in finding a safe landing place among the surge; but at last we steered the boat into the quiet Bay of the Stairs, and soon drove her nose into the stony beach and drew her well up out of the water, fastening her painter round a large rock.
Safely landed, Robbie shouldered the climbing ropes and I took the gun, having a stock of dry powder and shot in my pockets. We climbed over some large boulders into the next creek, where, as we had expected, we found a multitude of noisy sea birds, some floating on the clear pools on the shore; others running about among the sea-worn stones or seeking food with busy beaks in the bright green and crimson weeds that lay in patches among the pebbles. The ledges of the cliffs were crowded with gulls, whose plumage was as snowy as the very foam that the high waves scattered over their ranks. In a little cove at the extremity of the bay were scores of kittiwakes, chattering over some dead fish thrown up by the sea.
Here was a rare hunting ground for two eager young sportsmen! Close to us a couple of turnstones, smart little birds in brown, with bright-red legs and beaks, were busy on a heap of kelp. I levelled my gun at them, and was about to fire, when Robbie stayed my hand and pointed to a large cormorant sheltered in a deep niche of the cliff and looking darker even than the dark rock over its head. I altered the direction of my aim, keeping well out of the bird's sight, with my back against a wall of granite.
It was well for me that I did so, for without this support in the rear I should surely have fallen. When I drew the trigger I received a fearful blow in the chest from the butt of the gun and a thump on the back from the rock. The report of the gun sounded loud through the chasms, and the echo was repeated along the line of the cliffs and far over among the glens, as though a whole volley of musketry had been fired. Birds flew about in all directions, uttering wild cries of warning to each other. The air was crowded with flying gulls.
When the smoke cleared away we looked for our cormorant, and there he was, perched on the same bald point of rock, coolly preening his black feathers. Then, as we ran up towards him, he stretched forth his long neck, raised his wings, and sped away across the sea. Either I had missed my shot, or the bird's tough skin had felt no sensible touch. And where now were all our birds? Far out over the gray sea they flew, secure from the range of our gun.
We waited long for their return, but only an occasional kittiwake soared high above us, and some, bolder than the rest, presently returned to their brooding places on the cliffs. We could not think of firing while the gulls were on the wing, they swept past us so quickly. We therefore scrambled over some abutting rocks into a further bay, and still onward along the rough beach as far as the stack of Hellia--a great steep rock standing out in the sea under the frowning height of St. John's Head--and here we found as large a number of birds as we had formerly seen.
We had arranged to take our shots turn about, and now it was Robbie's turn. Having charged the gun, we stood quiet for a time, patiently awaiting our chance. A carrion crow flew to a rock between us and the water's edge. Robbie was ready. He took a deliberate and steady aim and fired. A feather dropped from the bird as it took flight.
"Man, Hal, I think that hit him!" exclaimed Robbie, running up to secure the feather.
"Ay," said I. "But I'm thinking we both want some practice, Robbie. We'll have no birds today, I reckon. Let's put up some cock-shy on yon rock and fire at it. There's no use shooting at the birds. We'll hit them, maybe; but we'll not kill anything, I'm feared."
So we erected a tall stone on the top of a rock, and, standing some paces from it, practised firing at the object until we could hit it, perhaps, once out of half a dozen tries. But we soon got tired of this play, and I proposed climbing up to the top of the cliffs, for all the birds seemed to be flying high.
Walking along to a broken cleft of the headland, where a burn came down from the hills through a long gorge, we turned up the ravine and mounted the heights. No sooner were we up there, however, than we found that the birds were all below us on the beach.
We were making our way up the ravine, Robbie carrying the climbing lines and I the loaded gun, when a large sea bird with wide-sweeping wings flew just over our heads. Without thinking of hitting him, but simply wishing to empty the gun of its charge in case of accident, I took aim and fired. The great bird faltered in its flight, one of its wings seemed to lose all power, and then with a circling swoop he came down with a thud upon a grassy knoll beside the stream.
It was a fine solan goose. He was quite dead when we reached him, for I had shot him under the right wing.
My good fortune excited Robbie to such a degree that he would not be satisfied without again trying a shot. So we loaded the gun once more, and about half a mile further up the glen he had the luck to knock over a small rabbit. This was the extent of our sport.
To climb up this wild and desolate glen was no easy matter, for I must tell you that St. John's Head, the summit of which we had to cross before getting back to our boat (for the tide would not allow of our return by the beach), stood above the sea to a height considerably over a thousand feet. The goose and our climbing ropes were also tiring burdens, and we had many times to take rest beside the stream and quench our thirst in its cool water. Some distance above the sea the ground became smoother, and broken rocks gave place to short heather, which was softer for our bare feet.
When at last we reached the top of the Head, and our trouble was over, we sat down on the breezy front of the hill and looked far away across the restless water, where the sea line melted into the blue haze of the Scotch coast. Nearer to us the water itself was blue, then pale green with bands of purple above beds of weed, and over all the white waves curled into foaming crests, silent to us as snow. Southward, along the cliffs, a high steeple rock--the Old Man of Hoy--stood like a sentinel guarding the coast, his head on a level with the cliff behind him; and rounding Rora Head were the brown sails of a few fishing craft making for Stromness.
"Come, Robbie," I said, when we had feasted our eyes on this scene. "Come, we must be getting home. The tide has turned this long while past, and we'll be hungry before we're back to Stromness."
We were, indeed, already somewhat hungry, and regretted we had not brought food with us instead of the climbing ropes, which had not so far been required. To think of getting anything to eat where we were was needless, for we were on the most desolate part of the Hoy island, and not a house was there for miles away.
The walk back along the ridge of the cliffs was easy, the ground sloping downward in our favour. About a mile further on we came to the cliffs below which our boat was moored. But, alas! we had been sadly out in our reckoning. The boat was afloat, deep down there, tugging desperately at her rope and grinding her sides against a rock. To get down to her was now a problem. From our high position we could see how the tide had risen well above the rocks by which we had climbed from one bay to the other, and our only course was to descend by the steep precipice surrounding the creek wherein the boat was moored. There was no possible way down except by the use of the ropes, and this was an extremely difficult and dangerous undertaking, for the cliffs rose fully three hundred feet in height, and our lines, of which we had two, would scarcely, when joined together, measure more than half that length. For we used them for the cliffs of Pomona, which are not in any place so high as those of Hoy.
We had a long consultation first, as to which of us should make the descent. Robbie offered to go down, as he was the lighter weight and I the stronger for holding the upper end of the rope. Yet I was a little afraid of letting him undertake so difficult an adventure, being conscious that he had had less practice at cliff climbing than I.
"Robbie," I said, "let me go down. You can hold the line--" and then suddenly remembering my magic stone, I added, "and remember, Robbie, that I have this little stone to keep me from harm."
At once Robbie cast away all fear and became quite confident.
"What fools we were not to think of that!" he exclaimed. "Come away, let us tie the lines together, and you'll go down as safe as a bird, Hal. Hooray! we have a chance of testing the worth of the stone after all!"
Robbie's confidence gave me courage--or was it the remembrance of the viking's charm that made me bold? However it be, I now thought no more of going down this unfamiliar precipice than if it had been one of those that were so well known to me on the Mainland.