Chapter 15

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.

Having tied the two ropes securely together, we looked for a convenient point at which to make the descent. We went out to the furthest part of the embayed cliff, and looking over to the opposite precipice saw a suitable spot less steep than the rest, and where also, some distance below the brink, there was a projecting pinnacle of rock which might serve as a pillar round which to secure the rope.

We took the climbing line and cast one end of it over the cliff, letting it fall as far down as the pinnacle I have mentioned. Robbie then held the rope, with the help of a boulder of rock round which he secured it, and I proceeded to lower myself down the steep. It was easy work getting to the pinnacle; but this was only the beginning. I whistled up to Robbie when I had gained a sure footing, and he let down the rest of the rope. And now I had to manage everything else unaided, for Robbie could not, with what contrivances he had on the top of the cliff, have been of any further help. Before I had cast the rope over the point of rock, he was across at the far side of the embayment, where he could watch my progress and give me directions.

Having passed the line over the rock pillar and allowed the two ends to hang down in equal lengths, I climbed over, and with considerable difficulty caught hold of the double rope, by which I let myself slowly and cautiously down, now holding to the face of the rocks with hand and foot, now swarming down by the ropes alone, until a cry from Robbie warned me that I was coming to the end of the lines. Fortunately I was able to reach a ragged point where I could once more get a firm foothold.

Resting there, I reflected that I was not yet halfway down the precipice; and now I had to think of how I should manage to haul the rope down and secure it to another projecting rock. The only suitable point I could see was some yards away from me to the right side, and I had to climb upward again before I could find a shelf by which to approach it. After a tedious attempt--during which my magic stone came very near to proving its power--I at last reached the desired place. A gull fluttered away with a wild cry as with bleeding fingers I held on to the ledge of rock; and there I found, nestling upon their bed of moss and weeds, a pair of woolly little chicks which stared strangely at my intrusion.

My safety, perhaps even my life, depended upon my getting astride of that small rocky point where the young gulls sat. In my extremity I took hold of one of the chicks, intending to throw it down the cliffs; but the mother bird flew towards me with such piteous cries that even in my danger I could not be so cruel, so I removed the little ones to a crevice close at hand and seated myself upon their nest, thankful of the refuge it afforded. And now I heard a shrill whistle from Robbie Rosson, by which I understood that, seeing my comparative safety, he was going to find some place where he could get down to the beach, there to wait until I should bring the boat round for him.

But I must say that I thought my chances of ever getting round to him were very small. I was not by any means so safe as he seemed to think, for being once seated on that shelf of the cliff I found that my next difficulty would be to turn round with my face to the rock in order to continue the perilous descent.

I had now to get my rope down from the height above me. First then I tied one end of the line round my body so that the rope might not fall, and, allowing the other end to hang slack, began to haul away. Things went well for a few moments, and the rope answered to every pull I gave. But, alas! there came a check. I had let loose the wrong end, and the knot by which we had connected the two lines had caught in some crevice. Try as I might I could not loosen it; yet I was not certain that its hold was firm enough for me to venture climbing up again by the portion of the rope that I held in my grasp.

My thoughts were fearful. Here was I, stranded on this ledge of rock, midway up the face of a steep precipice, the sea roaring far beneath me, and with no obvious means of escape either above or below.

My boat looked small away deep down there as she tugged at her mooring line and tossed wildly about in the rising tide. O, how I wished that I was seated at her helm, and in sight of my beloved Stromness!

Instinctively I felt for my magic stone. It hung safely under my knitted shirt. I trusted in the security it gave me, and my courage was renewed. The way out of my predicament was so hopeless, my danger so great, that I solemnly resolved, should I ever reach home again, to attribute my escape from this peril to the intervention of the viking's talisman.

Long and wearily I waited, contemplating the difficulties of my situation, and in the end I almost determined to hazard the further descent without the help of the rope, trusting merely to the skill of my hands and feet.

My first endeavour was to get back along the shelf of rock until the rope should hang perpendicularly. Accordingly I restored the young seagulls to their nest, turned myself round with my face to the cliff, and, with much difficulty, retraced my way for some distance. I was in a half-creeping position, holding by the right hand to niches of the cliff, when, a sharp corner of stone digging into my knee, I stumbled, and would surely have fallen far down upon the rocks of the beach, had I not still held firmly to the rope.

The sudden jerking, however, did one good thing; it loosened the knot from the place where it had been held in the rock above, and the rope itself came down by its own weight until it hung from my waist where I had tied it.

The further descent was now performed with comparative ease, and in the manner I had at first intended. I hung the rope at half its length over a point of rock, seeing now that it had a free run, and allowing the two ends to fall. Then I swarmed down the double line until I found another suitable place for hanging the rope by. Thus making the descent by repeated stages, I stepped at last upon the level rocks of the beach, sincerely thankful for my escape from so great peril.

When I scrambled over the rocks towards the boat I found she was floating in full three fathoms of water, so that my only course was to swim out to her. This, however, was a small matter after what I had gone through. I stripped myself on one of the outlying rocks, and plunging into the water soon reached the boat and clambered over the stern. I was obliged to "slip the anchor," for the painter was tied deep below the water and had to be sacrificed. But I did not take long to recover my clothes and dress myself, and then I took to the oars with a will and rowed along the shore in search of Robbie.

Steep and frowning looked the great cliff that I had come down. I regarded it with a new interest, and felt some sense of pride and satisfaction in my narrow escape from so serious a danger. Again I took my viking's stone in my fingers, and my faith in it was complete.

Robbie was patiently waiting for me seated on one of the outer rocks in a further bay. His face brightened as he saw me rounding the point.

"Man, Ericson," he exclaimed joyfully, "I'm real glad to see ye again! I e'en thought ye'd met wi' some mischance. I was terribly feared!"

"Feared, were you? Well, so was I; but I managed all right, you see, thanks to the viking's charm."

Robbie brought on board the gun, with his rabbit and the dead gannet. And then we rowed back to Stromness. It was long past sundown when we rounded the Ness point, and the beacon lights were streaming over the bay, but we reached the little quay at the end of the Anchor Close without any mishap. Both of us were very hungry after our sport.

On that evening, I remember, I spent a very happy time at the home fireside. My uncle Mansie was there, with my father, and my mother, and Jessie. It was almost the first occasion on which I was permitted to join in the conversation with my elders. But the evening has ever since had a pathetic interest in my memory; for, as it turned out, it was the very last time that our family sat together in an unbroken circle.

"Ye're gettin' to be quite a good boatman, Hal, to gang all that way under sail," said Mansie; and then he turned to my father, saying, "When are we to hae the lad aboard the Curlew, Sandy?"

"Weel," replied my father, putting his great brown hand with affection upon my shoulder, "I hae been thinkin' it was about time he joined us. The lad has been at the school lang enough, mebbe.

"Are ye at the head o' the class yet, Halcro?"

"Nay, father, he's no that yet," interposed Jessie, "for Thora is aye before him."

"Thora can read better than I can," I said, "and she kens mair geography. She's better at the Latin, too; but the dominie says I'm the best at history, and writin', and accounts."

"Ye'll no need very muckle Latin to be a pilot, however," said my father. "But it's a pity ye're not better at the geography. How many islands have we in Orkney? Can you tell me that?"

"Seventy-two--twenty-eight islands and forty-four holms."

"And can ye name them all, the twenty-eight islands?"

"Yes, the dominie taught us them last Martinmas;" and I proceeded to name them, from the North Ronaldsay down to the Muckle Skerry of Pentland.

"Very good!" said my father; "and d'ye ken ony thing about the sounds? Where's the Sound o' Rapness?"

"There's a puzzle for ye, Hal," said my mother.

"Ah! I warrant the laddie kens it," said Mansie.

"Is it not between Westray and Fara?" I ventured doubtfully.

"Right again!" exclaimed Mansie, slapping his knee. "Oh! we'll mak' a pilot o' the lad yet."

"Ay," said my father, "we maun hae him aboard the first fine day."

"Dear me, father," objected my mother, "d'ye really think it wise to tak' the laddie frae the school, an' him gettin' on sae weel wi' the dominie?"

"Tut, goodwife," said he, "the laddie maun begin to learn the piloting some time; an' the sooner the better, say I.

"Hand me over the tobacco jar, Jessie."