Our schoolhouse was situated on the braeside above the main street
of Stromness. It was a plain stone building with crow-step gables
and a slated roof; and the only indication of its purpose was a
large board over the door, upon which Andrew Drever had himself
imprinted the word "SCHOOL" in bold black letters on a white
ground.
The morning's lessons were already well advanced, as I could hear
by the hum of voices as I approached. Even Peter, the jackdaw, in
his wicker cage at the open doorway, joined in the clatter of
tongues. His quick eye noticed me hurrying to the school, and he
sidled awkwardly along his perch, put out his long black beak
through the bars of his cage, and flapped his wings with
unmistakable signs of welcome.
I was very late; so late that I half dreaded going into the school;
and to discover if possible what humour the schoolmaster was in, I
peeped through the half-open window. In the inner room I could see
old Grace Drever seated with her gray cat beside the peat fire,
busily twirling her spinning wheel. Nearer to me Mr. Drever himself
sat at a high desk, at the side of which hung the inevitable
"tawse;" and I did not fail to notice that this instrument of
torture had already been used that morning, for it still swung with
a gentle motion from side to side, like the pendulum of a lazy
clock.
Lest you should suppose that Andrew Drever was a severe taskmaster,
however, let me here hasten to assure you that his nature was as
sweet as summer. His methods of punishment and reward were the
perfection of justice. In stature he was a small man, but his back
was broad and strong, and his hands were firm and large. His long,
straight hair was as black as the wing of his own jackdaw, and his
cheeks, though thin, had a freshness of colour about them that was
brought there by the bracing breezes of our native hills.
The class was at the Latin exercises, for Latin formed part of our
education, and I could hear Jessie Grey repeating a conjugation. I
saw Tom Kinlay looking absently towards the window where I stood,
and fearing that he would notice me, I moved a step nearer the
door. Then I heard Mr. Drever speak.
"Kinlay," said he, "finish the subjunctive mood, where Jessie Grey
left off."
Tom's trembling voice betrayed his ignorance of the-lesson.
"Regor, I am ruled; regeris, thou--"
"No, no," interrupted the master. "What are you thinking of, boy?
That's the indicative mood. I asked for the subjunctive. Take your
hands out of your pockets, sir, and don't stand there glowering at
the whaling ships. They'll not be away till afternoon. Now, the
subjunctive mood?"
"I can't say it, sir. I could not get it into my head," whined Tom.
"Can't! do you say? Can't! Was there ever such a word?--Here, you,
Halcro Ericson, finish the--Now, where's that lad? Has he not come
to the school yet?"
"No, sir," replied two or three voices.
Now that the schoolmaster's attention had been so drawn to my
absence, I felt more than ever reluctant to enter.
"Where is he? Does anyone know?" asked Mr. Drever.
"Dinna ken, sir," was the weak response.
Then Tom Kinlay, anxious, I suppose, to retrieve his lost ground,
droned out: "He's away down at the shore side, sir. I saw him
fishing."
"Ah! s-sneak!" hissed one of the boys near him; "what for need you
tell?"
"Now, now!" said the master quietly. "None of that. Get along with
the lesson."
He glanced along the row of faces before him.
"Thora Kinlay," he said, "finish the conjugation where Jessie Grey
left off."
I was again at the window.
Mr. Drever looked towards a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl who stood
directly opposite to him. At her throat there was a cowslip--a rare
flower in Orkney. She wore a rough, homespun frock, as all the
other girls did; but, for some reason which I cannot explain, Thora
Kinlay was quite unlike her companions. Such was the refined
gentleness of her nature that I can compare her only with the
tern--the most beautiful, I believe, of all our sea birds.
"Regerer, I might be ruled; regereris, thou mightst be ruled," she
began, and as she repeated the conjugation, I listened with
attention not unmixed with envy, for she was the best scholar in
the whole school.
As Thora concluded, the schoolmaster gave her a word of praise, and
told her to go to the top of the class, while her brother, Tom, was
ordered to the bottom.
Andrew Drever had given these directions, and was leaning with his
elbow on the desk, his chin resting on his hand, when his eye was
attracted by my moving shadow at the doorway; and amid a sudden
silence I entered and took my place at the bottom of the class.
"Good morning, sir!" I said, looking fearlessly into Mr. Drever's
kind face.
"Good morning, Ericson!" said he. "You take your proper place, I
notice. But what is the meaning of this lateness? What excuse have
you this time?"
"I was down at the shore side catching sillocks," I boldly
answered, "and I just stopped to make up the even number."
Robbie Rosson here put his hand to his mouth in the form of a
speaking trumpet, and whispered: "How many did you catch, Hal?"
"Just two dozen," I quietly replied, yet not so quietly but Mr.
Drever heard me.
"Yes, Ericson," said he sternly, "you stay to make up the number of
your fish. But why do you not remember that you have a duty in
making up the number of your class at school?"
"I'm very sorry, sir," I said; "but I'll not do it again."
"See that you do not. I will excuse you this time, but only because
you were at the fishing." Then he added more kindly, "I have myself
lost count of time in the same way. And now let me hear your Latin
lesson."
Fortunately I went through the lesson without mistake, and was
rewarded by being told to go above Tom Kinlay. As I took my place,
however, the next boy to me, Robbie Rosson, gave a great shout of
pain, as though a pin had been stuck into him.
"Hello, hello! What's wrong now?" exclaimed the schoolmaster.
"It's nothing, sir," said Robbie, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"Nothing! What for did you cry out like that, then?"
"'Twas one of my fishhooks stuck in his leg, sir," I explained,
extracting the offending hook from Rosson's trousers, and putting
it back with others into my pocket.
"Give me the hooks!" demanded Mr. Drever, holding out his hand to
receive them. "I don't know what can possess you, bringing such
things to school."
Then before putting the hooks away in his desk, he examined them
with a knowing eye, and I heard him murmur, "Dear me, dear me! You
lads beat everything. I cannot think where ye get such good hooks
from."
The lesson was now changed. We all took our seats at the desks for
arithmetic, and throughout the morning there were few interruptions
further than the necessary disturbance caused by the changing of
places as one or another of us was distinguished for reward.