Courage, True Hearts: Sailing in Search of Fortune. Stables Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ to last me for a very long time. When next your father and brothers go after game of this sort, I'll stay at home and make love to you."

      Frank, however, was as well as could be next day, and after a cold bath went hungrily down to breakfast.

      The day was as still and bright as ever, and it was to be spent upon the loch.

      Curling-which might be called a kind of gigantic game of billiards on the ice-was to be engaged in. A party was coming from a neighbouring parish, and a strong club was to meet them.

      At this most splendid "roaring" game there is no class distinction; lord and laird, parson and peasant, all play side by side, all are equal, and all feed together, ay, and partake of Highland usquebaugh together also.

      Well, the laird's party were victorious, and all were invited up to Glenvoie house, to partake of an excellent dinner, laid out in the barn.

      But the barn was beautifully clean, and along its wall, among evergreens, was placed many a bright cluster of candles.

      The silver and crystal sparkled on the snow-white table-cloth, and that huge joint of hot corn-beef and carrots-the curlers' dinner par excellence-was partaken of with great gusto.

      Bread and cheese and whisky followed this, then the minister returned thanks, and this was followed by more whisky, with song after song.

      "Roof and rafters a' did dirl."

      It was not till near to the "wee short 'oor ayont the twal" that the party broke up, and all departed for their distant homes, on horseback or in traps.

      Did I say "all departed"? What an awkward thing it is to be possessed of a conscience! I have one which, whenever I deviate in the slightest degree from the straight lines of truth, brings me up with a round turn.

      Well, all did not depart, for the corn-beef-let us say-had flown to the legs and to the heads of half a dozen jolly fellows at least, and they determined that they wouldn't go home till morning.

      So they had some more toddy, sang "Auld Lang Syne", and then retreating to the rear of the barn, curled up amongst the straw and were soon fast asleep.

      So ended the great curling match of Glenvoie.

      CHAPTER V. – A HIGHLAND BLIZZARD – THE LOST SHEEP AND SHEPHERD

      It must not be supposed for a single moment that although the boys M'Vayne liked fun and adventure in their own wild land, just as you or I or any other boys do, reader, their education was neglected. Quite the reverse, in fact. For at the time our tale commences, both had just returned from the High School of Edinburgh, where they had studied with honour, and carried off many prizes.

      One of Duncan's pet studies had been and still was-navigation. Not only of a theoretical kind, but thoroughly practical.

      He had long since made up his mind to become a sailor, and he had left no stone unturned to learn the noble art of seamanship.

      For this purpose he had prevailed upon his father to let him take several cruises in a barque plying between Leith and Hull. So earnest was Duncan, and so willing was both skipper and mate of this craft to teach him, that in a very short time he was not only up to every rope and stay, but could take both the latitude and longitude as well as could be desired.

      He did all he could to put his brother up to the ropes also.

      They were very fond of each other, these two lads, and it was the earnest desire of both that they should not be parted.

      Well, all the stories they read were of the "ocean wild and wide", and all the poetry they loved had the sound of the sea in it.

      Such poetry and such tales Duncan would often read to his brother and winsome wee Florie sitting high on a hilltop, perhaps, on some fine summer's day with the great Atlantic spreading away and away from the shore beneath them to the distant horizon.

      Dibdin's splendid and racy songs, redolent as they are of the brine and the breeze, were great favourites.

      But I do think there is a thread of romance in the life of every sailor. Nay, more, I believe that it is this very romance that first induces young fellows to tempt the billows, although they are but little likely to find a life on the ocean wave quite all that their fancy painted. Talking personally, I am of opinion that it was Tom Cringle's Log that first gave me an idea of going to sea. Well, I do not regret it.

      Byron's Corsair was a great favourite with the boys. Indeed, I rather think that they both would have liked to become corsairs or dashing pirates. And little Flora would gladly have gone with them.

      "Heigho!" she sighed one day when Duncan had closed the book. "Heigho! I wish I had been a boy. I think it was very foolish of the Good Man to make me a girl, when he knew well enough I wanted to be a boy."

      The poor child did not know how irreverent was such talk.

      Honest Vike used to lie by Duncan's side while he was reading, with one huge heavy paw placed over the boy's knee.

      But it must have been monotonous for him; and often his head fell on the extended foot, and he went off to sleep outright.

      No sooner was the reading ended, however, than Vike awoke, as full of life as a spring-born kitten. Then his game began. He used to loosen a huge boulder and send it rolling down the hill. As it gained force, it split up into twenty pieces or more, and bombarded everything it came across. Vike just stood and barked. But once, when a flying piece of the boulder killed a hare, the noble Newfoundland dashed down the hill at tremendous speed, and seized his quarry.

      He came slowly up with it, and laid it solemnly down at Duncan's feet.

      This was all very well; but one day, when the boys and Flora sat down about half-way up a hill, Viking, tired of the reading, found his way to the hilltop, and, as usual, loosened a boulder, and started it.

      Thump, thump, rattle, rattle, rush! Fully a dozen great stones came down on our heroes in a cloud of dust, and with the force of an avalanche. The danger was certainly great, but it was all over before they could fully realize it.

      Duncan hastily drew his whistle, and at its call the innocent dog instantly ceased working at another boulder he was busily engaged loosening, and came galloping down the hill.

      Poor fellow! I dare say he deserved a scolding, but so full of life and happiness was he, that Duncan had not the heart to speak harshly to him. Only care was taken after this that Vike never got higher up the hill than the reading party.

      Frank had been nearly three weeks at Glenvoie, before he became initiated into the mysteries of a real Highland snow-storm. Many of my readers have doubtless been out in such a blizzard, but the majority have not, and can have but little idea of the fierceness and danger of it.

      The morning of the 10th of February, 18-, was mild and beautiful. Both Duncan and his brother had been early astir, and had taken their bath long before sunrise.

      They went downstairs on tiptoe, as they had no desire to awake their guest.

      "English boys need a lot of sleep," said Conal. "They're not like you or me, Duncan."

      "N-no," said his brother; "but I could have done with another hour myself to-day. But we are Scotsmen, and must show an example. Noblesse oblige. Well," he added, "we'll have time to run up the hill anyhow, and see the sun rise."

      So СКАЧАТЬ