“Whatever is the matter with you, Ian?” cried Mistress Brodie. “You are surely gone daft.”
“No indeed!” he answered. “I seem at this very hour to have just found myself and my senses.”
“What is all the fuss about, Ian?” asked Rahal.
“England has gone to war at the long last with the cruel, crafty black Bear of the North.”
“Well then, it is full time she did so, there are none will say different.”
“And,” continued Ian, “there is a ship now in harbour carrying enlisting officers––you may see her; she is to call at the Orkney and Shetland Islands for recruits for the navy, and Great Scot! she will get them! All she wants! She could take every man out of Kirkwall!”
“The Mayor and Captain Ragnor will not permit her to do so. She will have to leave men to manage the fishing,” said Rahal.
“I thought the women could do that,” said Ian.
“You do not know what you are talking about. It takes two or three men to lift a net full of fish out of the water, and they are about done up if they manage it. Come in and get your breakfast. If your news be true, there is no saying when Ragnor will get home. He will have some reasoning with his men to do, he cannot spare many of them.”