The lad has been at the school lang enough, mebbe.
"Are ye at the head o' the class yet, Halcro?"
"Nay, father, he's no that yet," interposed Jessie, "for Thora is
aye before him."
"Thora can read better than I can," I said, "and she kens mair
geography. She's better at the Latin, too; but the dominie says I'm
the best at history, and writin', and accounts."
"Ye'll no need very muckle Latin to be a pilot, however," said my
father. "But it's a pity ye're not better at the geography. How
many islands have we in Orkney? Can you tell me that?"
"Seventy-two--twenty-eight islands and forty-four holms."
"And can ye name them all, the twenty-eight islands?"
"Yes, the dominie taught us them last Martinmas;" and I proceeded
to name them, from the North Ronaldsay down to the Muckle Skerry of
Pentland.
"Very good!" said my father; "and d'ye ken ony thing about the
sounds? Where's the Sound o' Rapness?"
"There's a puzzle for ye, Hal," said my mother.
"Ah! I warrant the laddie kens it," said Mansie.
"Is it not between Westray and Fara?" I ventured doubtfully.
"Right again!" exclaimed Mansie, slapping his knee. "Oh! we'll mak'
a pilot o' the lad yet."
"Ay," said my father, "we maun hae him aboard the first fine day."
"Dear me, father," objected my mother, "d'ye really think it wise
to tak' the laddie frae the school, an' him gettin' on sae weel wi'
the dominie?"
"Tut, goodwife," said he, "the laddie maun begin to learn the
piloting some time; an' the sooner the better, say I.
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