Then we all went below to a meal of good Orkney herrings and hot
tea.
The meal was just finished, and the men were lighting their pipes,
when a boat from the shore was brought alongside--a heavy, clumsy
boat with great square oars pulled by two burly crofters.
When I went on deck with the skipper I found that our arrival at
Rackwick had been expected for some time.
"Man, Davie," interrogated one of the crofters in a broad Orkney
dialect, "where has thoo been wandering sae lang? They was
expecting thee mair than a twa week syne. Was thoo thinking o'
starving us all?"
"Starving you, Tam," returned Flett. "Nay, nay, lad, we'll see ye
dinna starve. Come aboard, lad, and let's know what you're needing.
We have everything you can want, from a needle to an anchor. So
just name it and you'll get it."
"We're needing none o' your anchors," said the crofter in a
matter-of-fact tone as he climbed up the schooner's side, "but I
just mind now, Mary Seater lost her last needle a week syne, and we
have but twa needles in all Rackwick, so thoo'd better gie us a
penny's worth."
Captain Flett told me to get the slate and pencil from below, and
as the crofter gave his orders for the articles required I wrote
these down under the initial item, "Needles, 1d."
When all the necessaries were brought together, they formed a
goodly pile of merchandise in the boat.
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