Chapter 6

Skaill Vic is a large, sheltered inlet of the sea. I have heard that in ancient times it was a meeting place of the Norse vikings, and it is just such a place as a pirate might choose to make his headquarters, being a convenient station from which he could ravage the adjacent shores of Scotland, or sail over to Norway, or even north to Iceland, and safely return to its secluded shelter, to store his treasure in the dark caverns of the rugged cliffs. I may here remind you that Pomona Island was, long ago, the holy land of the Northman, and that the cairns and cromlechs scattered over our hills and plains are to this day associated with the visits of the old viking buccaneers. Andrew Drever, who was exceedingly well versed in the antique lore of the Orkneys, once told us in school of a Runic inscription he had seen in the Maes Howe at Stenness. It was interpreted to the effect that one of the old vikings "had found much fee in Orkhow," and that this treasure had been buried "to the northwest."

"Happy is he," the legend continued--"Happy is he who may discover this great wealth."

But, of course, no person had ever found trace of it, and Mr. Drever supposed that it must have been swept away by the furious storms that, in wintertime, dash continually against the rocky ribs of the Orcadian coasts.

We got down by a pathway to the sloping beach, which the tide had left bare. At the point where we hoped to find some seals, we observed several men and women gathering seaweed, preparatory to burning it for kelp. This was a disappointment to us, since, if there were any seals about, it was likely they would be scared away by the kelp burners. But we walked along under the high banks as far as the northern extremity of the bay, in expectation of finding some sport on the outer shores.

We sat for a long while talking, as schoolboys will talk, in a sheltered cleft of the headland, which, I believe, had once been a cavern, and was known by the name of the Kierfiold Helyer. Here the force of many an Atlantic storm had so worn away the face of the rocks that the cliff was driven back to the innermost parts of the original cave. Great pieces of granite lay about in disorder, showing where the roof of the cavern had fallen in; and on one of these boulders we sat until we were weary, looking out to the water's edge, in expectation of seeing some seals appear.

Skaill Bay was our favourite spot for the sealing, and at the proper season the seals were generally plentiful and not timid. Indeed, so bold were they sometimes, that on a Sabbath morning, when the bell of Sandwick Church, hard by, had been ringing for divine service, I have seen the animals collect in numbers on the beach to listen to the strange sound, which held them so fixed and charmed, that it required an effort to startle them away. Now, however, the seals seemed to have deserted the place, and I was not sorry when Tom Kinlay proposed that we should give up our search for them and return home.

Just as we were moving away I chanced to look along the shoreline, and at some distance from where we stood I detected a moving object in the water, and presently saw what I took to be three seals basking on a bank of sand. Now was our weariness changed to eager desire, and we at once prepared for some good sport.

Leaving our dead falcon on a slab of rock, we quietly distributed ourselves. Willie Hercus approached the seals under cover of a large boulder. I crept along by the foot of the cliffs with Selta, intending to get down to the water's edge, and so work back again to cut off the retreat of the seals; while Kinlay and Rosson did the same on the other side.

We gradually and silently closed round our game. Our approach was, however, somewhat marred by an alarm given by a seagull flying over the seals. The largest animal turned round towards the sea. Its mates took the signal and, with it, made for the water.

I gave a word to the dog, and Selta ran forward to meet the middle seal, which she kept at bay as she might have kept a sheep, barking in its face and always getting between it and the water. Tom and Robbie ran after one of the others, while the largest seal, which I had marked as my own prize, managed to escape me and plunge into the sea. I then turned to encounter the seal that the dog and Willie Hercus had arrested. Willie, having no stick or harpoon, was throwing large stones at the animal, which seemed to pay little attention to them, but kept its large, beautiful eyes fixed upon the dog. One of the stones, unfortunately, struck Selta, and when she turned, the seal made its way past. I saw the movement and succeeded in striking the seal on the nose with my knobbed stick. The animal collapsed at once; its head dropped on the sand, and it moved no more.

Meanwhile Robbie and Tom, who had my harpoon, were having a hard fight. Their seal had been struck once with the harpoon on the left shoulder. Tom tried to intercept its retreat, and just as it was entering the water he fell down upon it with all his weight, at the same time grasping its wounded flipper in his two hands. The seal, though weak, drew him some way over the slippery stones and into the sea; but Tom proved victor. Rising on his knees in the water, he wrapped both his arms round the seal, and, with the assistance of Rosson, succeeded in carrying it ashore, where it was finally killed.

We had heavy work conveying our two seals up the beach to the place where we had left our dead bird; and there with our knives we proceeded to secure the skins and the blubber, leaving the carcasses behind for the cormorants and carrion crows.

Willie Hercus and I were finished first, and we carefully folded up our perfect sealskin. But Tom, who was less accustomed to the work, fumbled away awkwardly, muttering to himself when his sharp blade cut into the skin instead of neatly parting it from the body.

As we sat on a rock waiting for our companions, Selta went sniffing about on her own account and rooting into the far corners of the old cave. She at length found her way to the dead hen harrier, as it lay on a slab of flagstone. Hercus called her off as she put her nose too closely to the bird. But Selta was following her instincts; for, in turning the bird with her nose, she disturbed a small rat which was coolly making its meal there. I ran to examine the damage done to the hawk (for I was anxious to give the bird uninjured to Mr. Drever), while Willie followed the dog into the crevice where she had chased the rat. I found the harrier was not much damaged; a few feathers were bitten out and a little of the skin was broken, that was all.

I put my harpoon and stick through the string that secured the bird's legs and slung it over my shoulder, gathered up our sealskin, and went to hurry up Tom and Robbie, for the tide was rising and we had a long journey before us. Tom had just cut the last of the skin from the seal's head, and when he had folded it up, the three of us began our walk towards the further shore of the bay, expecting Hercus to follow with the dog.

"Hello! what can be keeping Hercus so long?" asked Robbie, when we had walked some distance.

I told him about the rat that the dog was after, and looked back for Willie. Not seeing him, we concluded he had gone round by the top of the cliffs, and we continued our way a few yards further. Then we heard Hercus calling after us in an excited way.

"Come back, lads, come back!" he shouted; and I looked at the sea line, fearing lest it was the rising tide that Hercus was warning us against.

"I'm not going back," objected Tom. "We've got time to get to the other side long before the water's up. Besides, I'm hungry. I'm going home."

"Tut, didn't we wait for you while you skinned your seal? Let's go back," I urged. "Maybe Hercus is hurt."

"Come away back, Tom," added Rosson.

So we all returned to where Willie Hercus still remained, and wondered what he could mean by calling us back.

When we entered the chasm we were much surprised to find Hercus lying flat on the shingle, with his right arm deep in a hole he had dug, and the dog at his side, wagging her tail and uttering short barks of excitement.

"Good sakes!" exclaimed Robbie Rosson. "What's wrong with the lad?"

Much relieved we were to hear Hercus speak. I confess I had felt certain some harm had happened to him.

"Come away," he said, in a tone which was far from being a cry of pain. "Come away, lads, and give us a hand here. There's better gear than rats in this hole, I'm thinking."

And, so saying, he rose to his knees and held out to us a heavy and black piece of metal, which at first I took to be an iron bolt.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, taking the thing in my hand and examining it.

"What is it?" said Hercus. "Can you not see, lad? Why, it's silver!"