The old man was very kind to
me, and even put his pipe away lest the smell of the smoke should
make me feel sick.
One time, when we were so sitting together, I noticed an eagle rise
from a ravine in St. John's Head, and we watched the bird sailing
backward and forward on steady outstretched wing and finally
disappear amid the shadows of the Red Glen. This suggested a long
talk about the eagles that inhabited the solitudes of Hoy Island,
and the skipper told many a thrilling story of his own adventures
in search of eagles' nests in the time when rich rewards were
offered for every eagle killed.
At midday the Falcon was abreast of the Old Man of Hoy--a curious
isolated pinnacle of rock some five hundred feet in height standing
out in the sea--and before the time of sunset we rounded Rora Head
and entered a beautiful sheltered bay with a fine stretch of
sloping beach, beyond which, on the brown moor, about a dozen tiny
houses could be seen snugly nestling together beside a flowing
stream that had its source away up amongst the hills.
This was Rackwick, one of the chief hamlets of Hoy; and when the
schooner was brought well inshore the anchor was dropped. The
captain then ordered Jerry to blow the horn to announce our arrival
to the inhabitants far and near. Jerry thereupon took the fog horn
and blew it till the noise resounded and echoed for miles around.
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