These shooies live chiefly by preying on other birds. They are winged parasites; they are very audacious, and fear no foe. Although they are not larger than a pigeon, they are not afraid to lay siege to an erne or a glaucus gull, and they will often do so as much for amusement as for gain.
"Mr. Corbie is in a fix," quoth Yaspard to himself, as he watched the swift, graceful evolutions of the shooies as they darted through the air buffeting and tormenting the unfortunate raven, whose harsh, fierce croak and futile efforts to escape were quite pitiful though amusing.
"If he doesn't gain land somehow he's done for, poor wretch: he is tired now, and can't keep on wing much longer; if he touches the water it's all up with him. Poor old corbie! they must have been after him a long time." Thus our Viking soliloquised, as his boat glided on until it was passing below the aerial battlefield.
At that moment Sir Raven, uttering a loud and prolonged scream, shot downward and alighted on the thwart next Yaspard, too exhausted to do more than utter one faint croak, which might have been a parting anathema on the shooies, but which charity impels me to believe was an expression of thankfulness for such an ark of refuge as the boat of a Viking.
Yaspard leaned quickly forward, exclaiming, "Why, can it be? Yes, sure enough—Thor, old fellow, how came you to be in such a plight?"
Still gasping, but self-possessed, Thor hopped from the thwart on to Yaspard's arm, and then, turning up one side of his head, he leered at the shooies in such an expressive and ludicrous manner that the boy went into fits of laughter, even though one of the shooies swooped so near in its baffled anger as to touch his hair.
Thor snuggled up to his master, and began to smooth his ruffled plumes a bit, while Yaspard, tossing his hand about, so frightened the winged banditti that they flew away, and Thor was satisfied.
It was only when this interesting episode was over that our young rover allowed his vision to return to the homeward course; but when his glance fell upon the sea ahead he saw a sight to rejoice the spirit of a Viking. Near the mouth of Boden voe, straight before him, keeping watch for him, lay the Laulie, her blue flag with its golden star flying merrily at the mast-head, her white sail spread, her jolly crew all alert and "on the war-path."
She was cruising about the entrance to the fiord, with the obvious intention of preventing the Osprey from reaching her own lawful domain.
Up Yaspard sprung, and keenly surveyed the enemy's position and his own, calculating his "chances" with as much anxiety as if life and honour were at stake. He did not dream of turning aside, or trying to reach any harbour of refuge save his own voe; but he knew that to pass the Laulie in safety would require considerable manoeuvring and daring seamanship.