Our mother's woeful sighs were painful
to my ears, while I felt how helpless I was to soften her sorrows.
Sometimes, when I saw the tears in her eyes, I would silently wish
for her sake that I was older and could do more towards filling my
father's place.
But work of the kind I was fitted for was scarce in Orkney. Had I
been able to choose for myself I should have been, like my father,
a pilot. But the chain of circumstances which had made this the
vocation of my family for three generations was now broken. Carver
Kinlay and his crew were having things all their own way, and in
the meantime I was doing that most trying of all work--waiting and
hoping for what seemed to become every day less probable.
But I did not pass my hours in idleness. Whenever an outward-bound
ship came into the harbour I sought her captain, and asked for a
berth aboard. Sometimes I would even walk as far as Kirkwall to see
if in that port I could get what was so difficult to procure in
Stromness.
One cold, wintry day, when the wind was blowing strong and cutting
from the north, I found myself in Kirkwall. Walking along the
wharf, looking down upon the decks of the vessels that lay against
the old stone quay--brigs, barques, and schooners, some of them
bound foreign, but most of them from Scotland--I came to a little
coasting schooner that I had often seen in the harbour of
Stromness.
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