I was up and about on the following morning when the town was yet
asleep. A cool, dewy mist hung in the air, and the rising sun
spread a rosy bloom on the eastern sky. When I arrived at Andrew
Drever's house there was no one moving within, but the door was not
locked, and quietly lifting the latch I went inside to find the cat
Baudrons, that I might take him out to the Lydia according to my
promise.
I made so little noise that even the jackdaw did not seem to notice
my entrance, and I looked to his cage on the side table. To my
surprise the cage door was standing wide open and Peter was not
there. But presently, from the school room, I heard him chattering
and croaking. Following the sound of his voice I discovered the
bird perched high upon the dominie's desk looking down at Baudrons,
who crouched below him on the floor in the very act of preparing to
spring, his checks swelled out and his great tail lashing the dusty
floor. The door creaked as I opened it, and before I could
interfere the cat was upon the desk with Peter struggling in his
claws. Peter left a few black feathers in Baudron's possession, and
escaping, flew over to the table by the window, where he hopped
about with the greatest coolness, muttering, "William the
Conqueror, ten sixty-six"--words which he had gathered from our
history lessons in the school. Baudrons was after him in a moment.
And now followed a terrible encounter. Instead of flying away the
bird deliberately met the cat and stabbed at him valiantly with his
long, heavy beak. They fell over on the floor together, and as they
struggled, amid much noise of growling and chattering and flapping
of wings, I flung my cap at them, trying to effect a separation.
Alas! before I could help the dominie's pet, the cat had the
uppermost of him, and ran off into the schoolmaster's private room
with the jackdaw held firmly in his teeth.
I followed, and tried to make the animal loosen his grip of poor
Peter. He growled and spat as I approached him, and, fearing for
the jackdaw's life, I hammered with my fist upon the door of the
schoolmaster's press bed and called out: "Mr. Drever! Mr. Drever!"
The dominie opened the bed door and sprang out to the rescue, his
red woollen nightcap upon his head. But his help was of little use.
We managed to get the cat away from his prey; but the bird was
fatally injured, blood was dripping from his neck as the good man
took him up in his hands caressingly.
"Poor Peter, poor Peter!" said he; "who has done this thing?"
"William the Conqueror," faintly uttered the bird.
Then giving a few feeble croaks, he died in the schoolmaster's
hands.
Andrew Drever's tender emotion grew into anger as he thought of the
murderer of his pet jackdaw, and he paced the room vowing vengeance
against his mother's cat, which had now escaped into comparative
security on the top of the kitchen cupboard.
"Come down here, ye wretch!" he exclaimed, taking up a knife from
the table and holding it up threateningly. "Come down here, ye foul
fiend. How dare ye touch a feather o' my Peter's wing?"
"Dinna kill the cat, sir," I interposed, reminding him that I was
there to take the animal aboard the Lydia.
"Man, Halcro," said Andrew, sobering down, "I wish you had taken
him away yestreen. But come, let us catch the brute and away with
him, for he shall not bide in this house another hour."
While Mr. Drever got an empty meal bag and held it open, I took a
long broom handle, and, standing on a chair, forced the cat to come
down. We chased the animal about the room until we cornered him,
when, putting the meal bag over his head, we made him a secure
prisoner. Tying up the bag with a string, and cutting some
breathing holes, I carried the captive cat away, leaving Andrew
Drever to grieve over the death of Peter the jackdaw.
When I rowed out to the Lydia in my little boat, the mist had
melted away in the warmth of the sun. The gray town, with its blue
film of peat smoke slowly rising into the clear air, was reflected
upon the smooth water that lapped and lisped against the stone
piers. The bubbling track of my boat as she plunged and curtsied in
obedience to the oar strokes alone disturbed the calm surface of
the bay; but beyond the shelter of the harbour a brisk breeze
fluttered the Blue Peter at the barque's foremast, and I did not
fail to notice that it came from a favourable quarter.
Father was already aboard when my boat scraped gently along the
ship's side, and he threw a rope end down to me to climb up by.
Captain Gordon shook hands with me when I reached the quarterdeck.
"Well, my lad," said he, "how d'ye think the Lydia looks for sea?"
"She looks well and trim," I said, untying the mouth of the meal
bag; "but I notice she has a slight list to the port side."
"A list to port!" said he looking forward. "Ha! that's unlucky. I
wish it had been to starboard; but as it's not much, the men may
not notice it. I fancy they'll see more of ill luck in this cat."
When I opened the bag, Baudrons escaped with a good dusting of
flour on his fur. The cat looked wildly uneasy; he showed no signs
of that gentle docility which Grace Drever admired in him; but with
his cheeks puffed out and the loose skin about his nose and head
drawn up in uncanny wrinkles, he dashed across the deck once or
twice, lashing his tail from side to side like a savage brute, and
then, approaching the main hatchway, he made a great spring down
the hold, there to enjoy himself amongst the mice.