Chapter 24

The Lydia was laid up for about a fortnight. A slight delay in completing her repairs was occasioned by the want of timber--a scarce commodity in Orkney, where there are no trees--but suitable material was procured from a homeward-bound ship. Captain Gordon never, in my hearing, referred directly to my sister Jessie's caution about the barque's masts; but I noticed that the new masts were made shorter and stouter than those that had suffered in the storm. There was also some difficulty in procuring new boats for the ship; but Captain Flett at last found a jolly boat, and one morning early I took it out to the Lydia.

When I went below I found Mr. Gordon sitting over his breakfast with Marshall, his first mate. I remained talking with them for some time, when we were interrupted by one of the ship's boys, who came down with a note to the skipper.

Captain Gordon read it with some show of consternation.

"What can be the meaning of that, Marshall?" he asked, handing the piece of paper across the table to the mate.

"Why, captain, I suppose you've been getting into some scrape ashore," said Marshall.

"Scrape! I've been in no scrape," said Gordon, "unless, indeed, it be the accident last Sunday week."

And he handed the note to me, asking if I could throw any light upon it.

The note was from Bailie Duke, and it ran as follows:

"Be in readiness. An officer from Kirkwall will be on board of you in a little with a summons.--Yours, &c., H. Duke."

I had hardly finished reading it when a noise as of someone boarding was heard on deck, and presently Captain Miller of the Albatross came rushing down the cabin stairs. He was evidently newly out of his bunk for his face was unwashed, his hair uncombed, and his large overcoat was roughly thrown over his sleeping clothes.

"What the mischief does this mean?" he exclaimed throwing a note on the table the facsimile of that which was puzzling Captain Gordon.

The two skippers were forming surmises, and were at last consoling themselves that it was some playful trick of the bailie's, when Marshall whispered through the skylight that a boat with seven men in it was pulling towards the ship.

"Show them down if they come aboard, then," ordered Gordon.

And Captain Miller rushed into the pantry to hide, dreading something serious; for he had let it out to us that he had been "on the spree" the night before, and was not the quietest of the company of which he had been a member. He locked the pantry door as he heard footsteps on the companion ladder.

Two men entered the cabin. One was a big seafaring man with a weatherbeaten face. The very appearance of his companion betrayed the fact that he was the "officer from Kirkwall."

"Beautiful morning this!" observed the big man, addressing Captain Gordon. Then after a pause he added: "We have just come, captain, to ask the favour of your company with us to Kirkwall. The officer here has a summons for you, I believe, and also one for Captain Miller of the Albatross, who is not at present on his ship."

Here a deep groan came from the direction of the pantry.

"A summons!" echoed Gordon. "What--why--what d'ye mean? What have I been doing?"

"Oh! my dear sir," returned the officer from Kirkwall, "you do not seem to understand the nature of the thing. You have done nothing at all, my dear sir. We only want you to come to Kirkwall as a witness in the case of assault--'Kinlay versus Paterson'--to be tried today at Kirkwall."

"Oh! then, if that's all, I'm here," said Captain Miller, coming in from the pantry and adjusting his coat.

"That is," said the man with the weatherbeaten face, supplementing the officer's explanation--"that is the case of the broken nose, captain. Now, we--that is, Mr. Watt and myself--have nothing to do with it, really and truly; but the matter is just this, we are anxious to clear off Jack Paterson, who is in our boat alongside with us--"

Here the speaker was interrupted by the appearance of Captain Abernethy.

"Come on, Gordon, old boy!" said he; "come along. I'm going to pay all expenses, every penny of them. I'm willing to sport a thousand pounds to clear Jack Paterson. Only to think of that scurvy rascal Kinlay bringing up Jack, and him with a wife and a whole crew of young children. Shall we allow it? No; not if I can help it. Come along!"

Abernethy was generous, certainly. He had lately, as I heard, fallen heir to the sum of five hundred pounds sterling, and his willingness to "sport" his thousands on every important occasion was one of his chief characteristics at this period.

"But how far is this place Kirkwall?" asked Captain Gordon. "How long will it take us to get there?"

"How far! Oh! only a matter of a few hours' sail," said Abernethy. "I've got my pinnace out, and we'll have a fine jaunt. Come along!"

"No. I've to see old Flett this morning to pay him some money. Besides, we're too many for the pinnace. Can we not go by road?"

And Captain Gordon looked to me for an answer.

"You can get Oliver Gray's pony and gig," I replied. "It's about fourteen miles by road."

"Will you come with me, then, Halcro?" he asked.

"Certainly; I'll be very glad. I know the way well."

The two other skippers, with Mr. Watt and the rest, then made arrangements for their boating party, intending to sail round to Scapa, and thence walk across the little peninsula to Kirkwall.

When Mr. Gordon had brushed himself up a bit, we went ashore together and found out Davie Flett, whose business occupied very little of the captain's time, and soon we were at the door of Oliver Gray's inn watching his Shetland pony being harnessed into the gig.

"Now, Halcro, are you going to drive? Up you get," said Mr. Gordon.

"Surely you dinna expect me to drive, Captain Gordon!" I exclaimed. "Why, I never held a pair of reins in my life!"

"All right, my lad! get over to larboard there, and I'll see what we can do. You can be pilot and give your orders, and I'll take the helm.

"Come along, Sheltie; off we go!"

The weather was very fine, the roads in good condition, and the pony fresh, so that we looked for a very pleasant drive to the capital. We drove along the north road by Hamla Voe and past the green cornfields of Cairston, and then over the hill until the great loch of Stenness stretched before us, reflecting on its surface the dappled, woolly clouds.

When we reached the Bridge of Waithe and turned westward, I asked my companion to slacken pace, for I had seen on the white road in advance of us two figures that were familiar to me.

"Who are they, Halcro?" Mr. Gordon inquired; "two of your school friends, eh?"

"Yes," I replied. "The lassie walking on the grass with the bare feet and carrying a green bag is Hilda Paterson--Jack Paterson's daughter."

"Ay! Jack Paterson's girl, eh? Well, and the other one with the pretty hair, walking along here like a stately young princess, who is she?"

We were already close to the two girls, however, and I hesitated to reply. He drew the reins, and I saw him regarding the elder girl with great interest.

She raised her blue eyes as we stopped--eyes as blue and clear as the sky itself. Her fair hair hung in waves about her shoulders, and as her rosy lips were parted to say, "Good morning, Halcro!" they revealed a row of white and regular teeth.

"Good morning, Thora!" I said in reply to the greeting she had given.

"I hope your foot is mending," said she very gently.

"Yes," said I; and Captain Gordon turned to me as though he wondered at my sudden shyness.

Thora looked down at a daisy growing at her feet in the green turf, seeming to seek inspiration from its golden heart. Then she raised her eyes to me again and said softly--oh, so softly:

"I'm real glad, Halcro, that ye werena drowned when the Curlew was wrecked."

I was about to thank her for the part she had taken in my rescue when Captain Gordon interrupted. Said he:

"If that sinner, Carver Kinlay, had had his own way Halcro would have been drowned like the rest."

Thora's cheeks grew crimson.

"It is my father you speak of, sir," she said very bravely; "and I hope what ye say isna true."

"Your father! Carver Kinlay your father!" exclaimed the skipper incredulously. "Really, I beg your pardon, my girl."

But already there was a tear in Thora's eye, and she turned to join Hilda Paterson, who had gone on in advance. And the two girls walked onward to school.

"Well!" ejaculated the captain as he whipped up pony, "well, I should never have believed it!"

"Believed what, Mr. Gordon?" I asked.

"Why, that such a sweet young girl as that was the daughter of that villainous Carver Kinlay."

"Ay! Thora's a bonnie lassie," I observed, with more feeling than I meant the words to convey; "and she's as good as bonnie."

"My lad, thank Heaven that your lucky stone and your splendid swimming saved you from that dreadful Sound of Hoy."

"I would rather they had saved my father, Mr. Gordon."

"I've no doubt you would, Halcro; but I was thinking of something else. I was thinking that when you grow older, and when little Thora--as you name her--is a woman--"

"Tuts! Mr. Gordon," said I, guessing what he would be at. "The Kinlays and the Ericsons will never be friends."

Thereafter Captain Gordon became very quiet and thoughtful, and when again he spoke it was about my own sister Jessie. He asked me many a question concerning her; and if I turned from the subject to point out some object in the scenery that I thought would interest him, he was sure to lead me back in some way to talk of Jessie.

We had now passed by the standing stones of Stenness, which my companion showed but little interest in, saying they were nothing compared with the Druid circle of Stonehenge, in England; and our way then lay along a straight uninteresting road past Finstown, and by the southern shores of the Bay of Firth, where the green holms of Damsay and Grimbister lay like floating gardens on the calm water. Soon the great red cathedral of St. Magnus loomed in sight above the antique houses of Kirkwall; and after our drive of fourteen miles we entered the old town and pulled up at the courthouse, where we met Abernethy and Miller and the rest who had been of the boating party.

I took the pony and gig to the Falcon Inn, and left them there until the trial should be over. I was alone the rest of the morning, for such an important trial as that of "Kinlay versus Paterson" must be conducted in private, and only those who appeared as witnesses or in other capacities connected with the case were permitted to be present.

But the time was not spent wearily, for I knew the town of Kirkwall very well, and there were many folks anxious to hear from me the full particulars of the fatality in Hoy Sound. Amongst these was old Colin Lothian, whose wanderings had brought him to Kirkwall. The old man sat with me on a stone seat in the shadow of the cathedral, and talked long of the accident and of my own blighted prospects, and at length of the trial that was now going on in the courthouse.

I mentioned Thora, and said we had met her on the road in company with Hilda Paterson. Colin was fond of Thora, and talked of her with affection, notwithstanding his hatred of her father.

"Ay, there again, there again, you see," said he. "What cares the lass though her father brings up Jack Paterson? It doesna make a bawbee's difference in Thora's liking for Jack's lass. Ah there's good in Thora. She's a right good girl, my lad, and I warrant she would do anything for them that are good wi' her."

As we sat there Captain Gordon joined us sooner than I expected, and I asked him how they had settled the case.

"Oh!" said he, "the trial hasn't begun yet; the humbug of a sheriff clerk has sent us away till three o'clock."

"What like a man is the sheriff's clerk, sir?" asked Lothian.

"I can't tell you that, my man, for we never saw him," replied the skipper. "He has a clerk, who has also a clerk, and this last one is the only one we saw. Why, the Governor of Jamaica has not so many functionaries."

Until three o'clock Captain Gordon went about the town with me--to the cathedral, where he examined the old Norman arches, the dim old epitaphs, and other relics of antiquity contained within these ancient temple walls. There were many other sights of curious interest to the captain about Kirkwall; for here were the decayed palaces of earls, the halls of old sea kings, and thick-walled mansions of the lordly times--many of them degraded into hostelries and shops, but all of them showing something of the glories of old Orcadia. Thus we passed the time until three o'clock.

In the evening, when I joined the Stromness party, I found Captain Abernethy exclaiming in indignant terms against the result of the trial.

"I knew how it would go," he said; "but still I wanted just to show them what was what, ye see. Of course, it was as well they went through all the due forms. But only to think of Kinlay getting off so cleanly! I don't mind paying the fine, Jack--it has got you off going to jail--but, hang it, I don't like paying Kinlay's expenses."

Kinlay had gained the case. Jack Paterson was fined fifteen shillings and costs, or a fortnight in Kirkwall jail. Abernethy had paid the fine on the spot. Carver, therefore, was throughout successful.

Not only had he gained in the assault case, but in the matter of the piloting he was equally fortunate. He was permitted to carry on his business in the St. Magnus, and notices were posted up forthwith on the quays at Stromness to inform the inhabitants that Carver Kinlay of Crua Breck, in the parish of Sandwick, was a duly certified pilot of Pomona.