Most of the men were asleep in the bows of the boat; all were lying down but one. That one was Malcolm. He had come aft, and seated himself under the platform, leaning against it.
The boat rose and sank a little, just enough to rock the sleeping children a little deeper into their sleep; Malcolm thought all slept. He did not see how Clementina’s eyes shone back to the heavens—no star in them to be named beside those eyes. She knew that Malcolm was near her, but she would not speak; she would not break the peace of the presence. A minute or two passed. Then softly woke a murmur of sound, that strengthened and grew, and swelled at last into a song. She feared to stir lest she should interrupt its flow. And thus it flowed:
The stars are steady abune;
I’ the water they flichter an’ flee;
But steady aye luikin’ doon,
They ken themsels i’ the sea.
A’ licht, an’ clear, an’ free,
God, thou shinest abune;
Yet luik, an’ see thysel’ in me,
God, whan thou luikest doon.
A silence followed, but a silence that seemed about to be broken. And again Malcolm sang:
There was an auld fisher—he sat by the wa’,
An’ luikit oot ower the sea;
The bairnies war playin’, he smilit on them a’,
But the tear stude in his e’e.
_An’ it’s oh to win awa’, awa’!
An’ it’s oh to win awa’
Whaur the bairns come hame, an’ the wives they bide,
An’ God is the Father o’ a’!_
Jocky an’ Jeamy an’ Tammy oot there,
A’ i’ the boatie gaed doon;
An’ I’m ower auld to fish ony mair,
An’ I hinna the chance to droon.
An’ it’s oh to win awa’, awa’! &c.
An’ Jeanie she grat to ease her hert,
An’ she easit hersel’ awa’;
But I’m ower auld for the tears to stert,
An’ sae the sighs maun blaw.
An’ it’s oh to win awa’, awa’! &c.
Lord, steer me hame whaur my Lord has steerit,
For I’m tired o’ life’s rockin’ sea;
An’ dinna be lang, for I’m nearhan’ fearit
’At I’m ’maist ower auld to dee.
An’ it’s oh to win awa’, awa’! &c.
Again the stars and the sky were all, and there was no sound but the slight murmurous lipping of the low swell against the edges of the planks. Then Clementina said:
“Did you make that song, Malcolm?”
“Whilk o’ them, my leddy?—But it’s a’ ane—they’re baith mine, sic as they are.”
“Thank you,” she returned.
“What for, my leddy?”