Chapter Two.
“My word! How she does go!” cried Aleck, a short time later. For he had stepped the mast, hooked on the little rudder, and hoisted the sail, the latter filling at once with the breeze which, coming from the sea, struck the bold perpendicular rock face and glanced off again, to catch the boat right astern. One minute it was racing along almost on an even keel; then, like a young horse, it seemed to take the bit in its teeth as it careened over more and more and made the water foam beneath the bows.
Away to Aleck’s left was the dazzling stretch of ocean, to his right the cliffs with the stack rocks and a glimpse of the whitewashed group of cottages locally known as Eilygugg, from their overlooking the great isolated, skittle-like, inaccessible stack rocks chosen by those rather rare birds the little auks for their nesting-place year after year.
On and on sped the boat past the precipitous cliffs, which, with the promontory-like point ahead, were the destruction of many a brave vessel in the stormy times; and an inexperienced watcher from the shore would often have suffered from that peculiar sensation known as having the heart in the mouth on seeing the boat careen over before some extra strong puff of wind, till it seemed as if the next moment the sail would be flat on the water while the little vessel filled and went down.
But many years of teaching by the fishermen and Tom Bodger, the wooden-legged old man-o’-war’s man of Rockabie, had made Aleck, young though he was, an expert manager of a fore and aft sailing boat, and the boy sat fast, rudder in one hand, sheet in the other, ready at the right moment to ease off the rope and by a dexterous touch at the rudder to lessen the pressure upon the canvas so that the boat rose again and raced onward till the great promontory ahead was passed. In due time the land sheltered the young navigator, and he glided swiftly into the little harbour of the fishing town, whose roughly-formed pier curved round like a crescent moon to protect the little fleet of fishing-boats, whose crews leaned over the cliff rail masticating tobacco and gazing out to sea, as they rested from the past night’s labour, and talked in a low monotonous growl about the wind and the prospects of the night to come.
Rockabie was a prolific place, as far as boys were concerned. There were doubtless girls to balance them, but the girls were busy at home, while the boys swarmed upon the pier, where they led a charmed life; for though one of them was crowded, or scuffled, or pushed off every day into deep water, when quarrelling, playing, or getting into someone’s way when the fish were landed, they seemed as if formed of cork or bladder and wind instead of flesh and blood, for they always came up again, to be pulled out by the rope thrown, or hooked out by a hitcher, if they did not swim round to the rough steps or to the shore. Not one was ever known to be drowned—that was the fate of the full-grown who went out in smack or lugger to sea.
The sight of Aleck Donne’s boat coming round the point caused a rush on the part of the boys down to the pier and drew the attention of the fishermen up on the cliff as well. But these latter did not stir, only growled out something about the cap’n’s boat from the Den. One man only made the comment that the sail wanted “tannin’ agen,” and that was all.
But the boys were interested and busy as they swarmed to the edge of the unprotected pier, along which they sat and stood as closely as the upright puffins in their white waistcoats standing in rows along the ledges that towered up above the point. For everybody knew everybody there for miles round, and every boat as well.
There was a good deal of grinning and chattering going on as the boat neared, especially from one old fisherman who lived inside a huge pair of very stiff trousers, these coming right up to his arm-pits, so that only a very short pair of braces, a scrap of blue shirt, and a woollen night-cap were required to complete his costume.