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!"