While all was busy on deck, Captain Gordon took my father and me
below to his cabin. It was a neatly fitted-up room with many books
and pictures and maritime instruments that interested me. What most
attracted my attention was the captain's private collection of
fishing tackle and his armoury. There were some fine landing nets
and rods with bright brass rings and reels, and the artificial
flies were quite confusing in their number and variety. In the
armoury were several six shooters of different patterns, and many
double-barrelled guns and ornamented rifles. Captain Gordon allowed
me to handle some of these, and he explained their mechanism to me.
One little fowling piece that I examined was so light and so
beautifully made that I returned to it again and again while the
captain and my father were talking together. It had a long steel
barrel with delicate engraving upon it, and a carved stock. I was
admiring the spring of the trigger work when Captain Gordon asked
me if I was a good shot.
"I have never fired a gun in my life," I said.
To my surprise he said, "You may have that gun in your hand if
you'll accept it."
"O, but I canna think of taking it from you, captain!" I replied.
"No, no, he'll shoot himself," objected my father; "and that will
not be so good as if he fell ower the cliffs. What will the lad
want wi' a gun?"
"But I'd like to give it him, pilot. He'll soon learn how to use it
properly.
"Won't you, Halcro?
"And as for shooting himself, why, remember the magic stone,
pilot."
Father muttered something to the effect that it was very good of
the captain; and I, who was overwhelmed with gratitude for his
kindness, feebly added my thanks. So Captain Gordon gave me the
fowling piece, together with a canister of gunpowder, and
sufficient swan shot, I thought, to kill all the wild fowl in
Orkney.
As I was leaving the ship, joyous in the possession of these ample
materials for a whole summer of sport, and was bidding farewell to
Captain Gordon, the mate came towards us at the rail and touched
his hat.
"Well, Marshall, d'you want anything sent ashore?" asked the
skipper.
"Yes, sir," said Marshall, "I want to tell you that the men are
grumbling about this cat being brought aboard. You know how
superstitious they are. They want the lad to take it away with him
again."
"Their objections are silly and childish, Marshall," said Mr.
Gordon. "They know that the ship is overrun with mice."
"Yes, yes, sir; that's all very well. But they won't have the cat
aboard; and I think you'd better have the beast sent off."
"The men are a pack of fools. What harm can the poor cat do them,
I'd like to know? They think it's unlucky, I suppose. Well, if they
will have it so, send a couple of them down the hold to capture the
animal. We must just bear the mice if the cat cannot remain. Look
smart, now, the boy's in a hurry to get to his school."
Two men were then sent below to search for Baudrons, and I waited
for their return. In about a quarter of an hour one of them came to
say that the cat could not be found.
"Very well, then, I can't keep the lad here any longer. We must
send the cat ashore with the pilot."
Then the captain turned to me.
"Goodbye, Halcro, my lad!" he said; "perhaps we'll be back in
Orkney on our homeward voyage. Maybe you'll be a pilot yourself by
that time, and bring us into port. Goodbye!"
"Goodbye, Captain Gordon!" I murmured; and at that I slipped over
the taffrail and was soon sitting in my boat again, rowing back to
the town.