What
was wondered at was that I had managed to keep afloat and swim so
far when all the men had perished. When it was whispered about,
therefore, that I was in possession of a magic stone which had the
power of protecting me from the dangers of the deep, the credulous
people readily grasped at the explanation of supernatural
assistance, and thenceforth I was distinguished amongst them as one
over whom Providence had cast a miraculous garment to protect me,
as Earl Ewan was protected in the olden time.
But if by the people of Stromness generally the calamity was
lamented over, how much keener was the grief of those who had been
bereft of husbands, fathers, brothers! All the men of the Curlew
were married and had families, with the exception of my uncle
Mansie. But in Mansie's death my mother had to mourn the loss of a
brother in addition to the loss of her husband.
In our house in the Anchor Close, where the crew had so often sat
in readiness to put out the boat, all was now hushed, and the busy
life of my mother and Jessie was suddenly checked and deprived of
all hope, their domestic duties robbed of all meaning. My mother
wandered about the house in melancholy, or sat before the fire
expressing her woe in long-drawn sighs. Very often she walked down
the jetty and looked out across the breezy bay, as though she
expected to see the Curlew coming in, and then she would return
with tears filling her eyes, and take up her knitting to hide her
grief in work, forgetting for the moment that the stockings she was
making were for him who would never, never wear them.
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