Sons of the Vikings. An Orkney story

Front matter

THE FIGHT ON DECK. Pttg€ 100. TyNeL-SOM 5_Soms | O/SDON, (•~DIMBUR,GH _}f yNew Vork SONS OF THE VIKINGS Bn ©rftne^ Stors BV JOHN GUNN T. NELSON AND SONS London. Edinburgh, and Ne-w York CONTENTS. i, THE KELP- BURNERS — A PASSING SAIL — AN UN PLEASANT INTERVIEW, 9 II. THE LAIRD AND HIS HORSE, 22 III. FATHER AND DAUGHTER — A DOMESTIC DISCUS- SION, 31 THE "YAMMALS" ON BOARD THE "CORMORANT" FAMILY HISTORY, IV. 43 V. A COUNCIL OF WAR TWO FRIGATES — THE PILOTS, 04 VI. A USELESS CHASE — STROMNESS THE BAILIE A HAPPY MEETING, 76 VII. GOING WEST A STRANGE SAIL CLEARED FOR ACTION, 94 VIII. A SHARP FIGHT — VICTORY, 105 IX. UNDER FIRE A STRANGE ENCOUNTER — NIGHT, NEXT MORNING ANOTHER SAIL A RUNNING Ill X. FIGHT — DEFEAT, 118 MORNING AT THE BU' — A VISITOR WELCOME NEWS, XI. 129 A MORNING WALK CONFIDENCES, 139 XII.

XIII. 145 PRISONER OF WAR, CONTENTS. XIV. SHIPWRECKED, ... ... ... ... 156 XV. RUNNING FOR SHELTER — TRAPPED, ... ... 163 XVI. FLOTSAM AND JETSAM — THE CASKET, ... 178 XVII. FATHER AND SON THE MISSING PAPERS, ... 191 XVslL A STERN-CHASE A PERILOUS VOYAGE, ... 198 XIX. THE BAILIE ON HORSEBACK JACK ASHORE FIRE! ... ... ... ... 212 XX. BACK TO STROMNESS — GOOD-BYE ! RESULTS, ... 223 XXI. HOME FOR A HOLIDAY "LE ROI EST MORT J VIVE LE ROI ! " ... ... ... SONS OF THE VIKINGS.

Chapter I. The Kelp-burners

A PASSING SAIL AN UNPLEASANT INTERVIEW. THE scene was a sweet and fair one, a picture of peace and tranquillity, such as nature can dis play nowhere in higher perfection than in the storm swept Orcades. Not a murmur from the vast At lantic was heard as it spread itself in glassy brilliance along the white sands of Langskaill Bay, and the towering crags to the northward seemed an unneces sary bulwark. Along the seaward edge of the Links, on this day of early autumn, mysterious columns of pale-blue smoke were rising from scores of tiny pits — miniature craters of intensely active volcanoes — around which were gathered groups of peasants from the smiliDg THE KELP-BURNERS. township which lay extended between the benty Links and the heathery slopes of the Burry Hill. During the frequent storms of winter and early spring large quantities of a kind of sea-weed, known as tangle or ware, are driven ashore by the force of the waves.

At low water the peasants were accus tomed to wade out into the sea, and cut off and carry ashore the thin flat blades of the same kind of sea weed. This was then spread out on the ground to dry for some time. When dry, it was gathered into heaps, and finally burned in small, shallow, stone lined pits or kilns, where there remained a heavy, dark-coloured cinder or slag known as kelp. This was formerly much in demand for use in the manu facture of glass, and is still used to some extent in the production of iodine and other chemical sub stances. There was, however, no open market for this kelp so far as the tenants were concerned. All had to be sold to the Laird at his own price, and each tenant was bound to deliver a certain quantity every year as part of his rent. This year the kelp-burning was late, as the early summer had been wet ; but the Laird was not a man to abate one atom of his pound of flesh, so at present the busy hands of the natives were feeding their A PASSING SAIL. 11 primitive kilns by night and day, and the peculiar pungent odour spread everywhere throughout the islands told of the activity of what is now an almost extinct industry.

The last group of kilns towards the north was under the charge of old Josiah Marwick and his daughter Phemie, who were held in some considera tion as occupying the largest farm in the township next to the Ha'* itself; indeed, the Bu' had originally been " the hoose," though now eclipsed by its newer rival, and reduced to the position of a tenant's abode. Their work was nearly done, and the last of their marine harvest lay in a few small heaps near the kilns, ready to be transferred to the glowing pits. But their thoughts no less than their looks were apparently fixed on something more distant, which, however attractive in itself, was too commonplace to account for the interest it seemed to arouse in these two. For it was only the ordinary sight of that white pyramid of canvas on the narrow black base which marks the floating home of some few fellow men.

A common enough sight, indeed, yet infinitely interesting, as is every scene of human life and work; * Ha' (Hall) and Bu' (from Norse Bolstad) are common names for the larger houses in a district. TROUBLOUS TIMES. but their eyes rested on it with an interest which was more than philosophical. " Is she no bonny, faither ? " exclaimed the girl after a long pause. " Oh ay, she looks weel eneuch," the old man re sponded dryly. Then he went on to explain, " There's ower muckle beauty for comfort on the king's ships." " The king's ships ! is that ane o' them ? Will that be like the one they pressed Willie an' Eric aboard o' ?" " Ay ; maybe the same ane." " Oh, an' will they be there noo ? " " No likely. The puir fallows '11 be sent further awa', where they'll have more to do." " Oh, I wonder where they are noo.

I wish we kent what they did wi' them." " Gude kens, bairn. Bit they'll get on fine if they get fair-play. They ken their wark weel eneuch." The great naval war with France was in full career at the time of our story, and the peaceful natives cf these isles had learned to know and to dread the terrible press-gang. These were perilous days for the small shipping ventures of the Orcadian trader. The troublous times had well-nigh put a stop even to their smuggling, which formed a most important branch of their traffic ; for the honest merchant was more likely THE PRESS-GANG. 13 to fall in with a French privateer than with a Dutch lugger. And the joy at missing the former, that might balance his regret at the absence of the latter, was liable to be eclipsed by the further possibility of falling in with some of the gallant defenders of his own country, who would relieve him of the pick of his crew in the interests of His Most Gracious Majesty's service.

Indeed, the only vessel belonging to the port of Stromness which seemed safe alike from the depre dations of friends and foes, and able to run a contra band cargo in safety, was the Laird's own schooner, the Selkie, whose gains were only enhanced by the losses of the other shipowners of the town. His security from the press-gang was easily explained by his influence, which was known to be powerful and believed to be boundless, while his immunity from other losses was ascribed by the charitable to luck and by others to a darker power. But it had now become evident that this friendly power was not omnipotent, for the two youths who were regarded as the very flower of the neighbour hood, Will Marwick and the Laird's own cousin, Eric Linklater, had a few weeks before been removed from the renowned Selkie to the service of their king and country through the agency of the press-gang It A SEVERE BLOW. was evident that the luck which had so long been on the side of the Laird had for once gone over to the side of the king, for two such recruits for the navy could not be picked up every day.

This was not the Laird's own view of the matter as yet, for in his own mind he rather thought himself lucky in having thus got rid of the lads — a view which was to undergo some change before long. The impressment of their boy was a severe blow to the old folks of the Bu'. Not that they had hoped for his remaining at home with them : no young man could do so and expect to be regarded as sound in body and mind in those days, nor indeed at the present time, unless in exceptional circumstances. But the lot of the " pressed men " was not an enviable one at best, apart from the actual dangers of war, which bulked no doubt most largely in the minds of his mother and sister. The father took things more philosophically, as his nature was ; but to him also the uncertainty regarding the boy's circumstances, and the doubt as to when, if ever, he might return home, were an ever-present burden.

While sailing on the coast ing schooner, though his life was very far from being an easy one, there were the frequent visits while in port, and the residence at home during the winter INEXPLICABLE LOSSES. 15 months, which made that time the happiest season to the friends at home. But now who could say when such pleasure might be theirs again ? As such thoughts passed through his mind the old man's face showed an unwonted gravity and sadness. And there was a deeper feeling beneath this to which he had never given expression, not even to those of his own household. The Laird, he knew, had for some time looked with favour, or at least with what in other men would have been so called, on his daughter Phemie, a girl of un common beauty, and had made overtures to her which had met with unexpected repulse.

With the father he had found no greater encouragement. While the Laird still continued his suit in his own way, Josiah Marwick well knew that this refusal of the proffered alliance was fraught with serious peril to himself and all his house. Several things had already happened which impressed him with this feeling. Unexpected and unexplained losses, such as that of his big fishing boat and gear, which seemed to be as far beyond the reach of the tide as those of his neighbours, had fallen heavily on him. Accordingly, being no better a farmer than those around him, he found himself heavily in arrears to the Laird, and without immediate prospects THE KING'S SHIP. 16 of paying his debt. And now the loss of his son, to whom he had looked for some aid, pressed from on board the Laird's own ship, along with that cousin whom the Laird was known to regard with little favour, might, of course, have been an unpreventable occurrence, but again it might not.

Josiah, on the whole, inclined to the opinion that it was not, but kept this opinion strictly to himself. Hence the thoughts aroused by the graceful propor tions of this gun-brig were by no means so pleasant as the beauty of the whole scene might have suggested to a less deeply interested observer, especially in a country where a ship under full sail is still regarded as the most beautiful thing in existence, and a steam ship as a violation of every law of nature and art. Ever and anon in the pauses of their work the two kelp-burners stood gazing at this fair object of art and skill, as she was rapidly approaching the sharply defined line where the deep blue sky gave place to the deeper blue ocean ; for although the wind was so light as hardly to be felt on shore, the rapid current of the ebb-tide had carried her out swiftly to the open sea.

During one of these pauses they were aroused by the sound of an approaching rider, and saw at a little distance the Laird himself on his favourite steed, following the track along the shore as rapidly as the nature of the ground would permit. Slight greetings or none passed between the Laird and the various groups of his dependants whom he passed as he threaded his way among the smoking kilns, and the sight of this busy scene of homely industry seemed to give him no more pleasure than the strong smell of the burning ware gave his noble steed. As he approached the old man his saluta tion was less distant in its character, while the grace which marked his low bow with uncovered head to wards the maiden was evidently, like himself, largely of foreign extraction, and was none the more valued on that account.

He reined in his horse while address ing a few commonplaces to the father as a prelude to what he meant to say ; but the animal strongly re sented this proceeding, which kept him in undesirable proximity to the smoking kelp. Accordingly he took the liberty of slowly increasing his distance from it by an occasional sidelong movement ; while the girl gradually edged away in the opposite direction, until she considered herself far enough from the Laird to turn away and join the next group of workers. The Laird on his part made no attempt to hinder her escape, and as soon as she seemed beyond AN UNPLEASANT INTERVIEW. the reach of their voices he turned to her father with less suavity of manner. " Well, what news have you for me, Josiah ? ' " Nane," was the laconic answer. " But have you communicated my wishes to your daughter ?

" "Ay." " And she still refuses ? " "Ay." " Did you inform her of the consequences which I warned you would follow ? " " 'Deed no ! " replied the farmer, with evident dis pleasure, yet preserving as far as possible his former brevity of reply. Josiah Marwick was no more taci turn than others of his class, and when among his own folk he could tell a story or pursue an argument to any desirable length, and even further. But when dealing with strangers, and especially with superiors, he shared that extreme caution and reticence which centuries of Scottish oppression and misrule had fos tered among a race naturally frank and open. " Perhaps you thought my words an empty threat," sneered the Laird. '■ The less need to bother the lass wi' them then," was the cautious reply. AND JOSIAH MARWICK. Page IS.

WOOING AND THREATENING. 19 " But it was no mere threat, you silly old fool ! Unless she consents to be mistress at the Hall, you and yours leave the Bu' at the term. That I swear. You had better let Miss Phemie know plainly what I intend." " I'm no sure it wad speed yer wooin', Laird," ven tured Josiah. " Enough of wooing. I've tried fair words long enough, but I am not to be balked. Let her know that she must accept my offer." " She'll please hersel', I'm thinkin'," returned the other dryly. " You can hardly afford to let her do so, I fear," said the Laird, with an unpleasant smile. " Your lease ends at Martinmas, and your stock will have to go for your arrears. You need look for no mercy, I assure you." " Na, I'll no lippen* to that, Laird. But ye maunna forget what my puir Willie wad hae dune to help if that weary press-gang hadna ta'en him — an' aff yer ain schooner too," added Josiah in a harder tone.

Again the Laird's face was lighted up, or rather darkened by one of his own pecuhar smiles. * Trust. THE LAIRD'*S PROPOSAL. 20 " Well, neither you nor I can hinder the doings of the press-gang." " No me onyway," muttered the farmer. " But, don't you see," continued the Laird, in a more conciliatory tone, " Phemie can wipe out your debt in a much more effective way than your son could ever have done." " Weel, the bairn does her best, puir thing, what wi workin' oot in the vore* an' helpin' wi' the peats, an'— " " Confound your thick skull, don't you know what I mean ? Only let her promise to marry me — force her to it how you will — and you hear no more from me of rent or lease." ,: Sell my bairn ! " exclaimed Josiah, with suppressed indignation. " Or starve," rejoined the Laird with another smile.

" Perhaps you would prefer that ? " " Ye're right, Laird ; I wad prefer that," was the unhesitating reply. " Gude night to you," he added without apparent emotion, and turned to resume his occupation at the nearest kiln. The Laird was too much exasperated by the whole interview to wish to prolong it. He could not * Spring-time. BAFFLED. 21 bring himself to use further expostulation or entreaty, seeing the uselessness of doing so after the farmer's plainly-expressed opinion. On the other hand, he felt threats to be vain when confronted by the stolid endurance of his old tenant. Nor was it desirable to give full expression to his irritation and rage w-ithin hearing of the other workers, to say nothing of the young lady most closely concerned. Sooth to say, this devoted wooer had ridden several furlongs on his way homewards from the scene of his defeat ere his thoughts became calm enough to hover round the image of his lady love.

And when he did think of her, his chief feeling was one of disgust at his own weakness and folly in being so much disturbed with such an unimportant affair. But his course of action was now fixed in accordance with two guiding prin ciples. The first was that every whim of his must be gratified. The second was that whoever opposed his whims must suffer for it.

Chapter II. The Laird And His Horse

IT was perfectly natural that the nearer figure of the Laird and his steed should bulk more largely in the view of the kelp-burners than that of the distant man-of-war brig. Conversation accordingly took the form of comment and criticism of the former rather than admiration of the latter. There was no suspicion that the unwonted gloom on the swarthy face of the Laird was in any way connected with the presence of this vessel. Yet the connection was a very close one. The whole course of events on this day, as he had learned it from willing informants in the seaport beyond the hill, was such as to cause him great uneasiness of mind and forebodings of possible evil. Ronald Linklater, more commonly referred to as the Laird of Langskaill, was by no means a favourite among his tenants and neighbours, for a good many RONALD LINKLATER. 23 reasons.

In the first place, he was not a native born Orcadian ; a fact which in itself should have aroused pity rather than blame among his depend ants, and might eventually have been entirely over looked. Then in addition to the indiscretion of having been born in France, of a French mother whom they had never seen, his tenants felt distinctly slighted by his having kept his very existence concealed from them until it suited his convenience to claim the estate, and still more so by his undisguised contempt for that estate and for most things connected there with. For, strange as it may seem, the presence of this foreign Laird had come about not by conquest, nor even by sale of territory, but through application (or misapplication) of the ordinary laws of inheritance. The former owner of the Ha', also called Ronald, had been a voluntary exile from the land of his birth since the time of his early youth.

Rumour affirmed that he had been rejected by the lady he loved, and in this matter, strange to say, Rumour lied not. His pride led him to seek refuge in his pain far from all who knew him, and prevented his ever returning to his native shores. After a period of aimless travel. during which he occasionally corresponded with those at home, he had settled in Bordeaux, where he entered HAROLD LINKLATER. upon a commercial career. Later there came news of his marriage to a French lady; and soon after the death of his parents came the last communication ever received from him, to the effect that he had no inten tion of revisiting his ancestral domain, which he left entirely to his younger brother Harold. Harold Linklater possessed a physical and mental constitution eminently fitted for the career thus assigned to him.

To a physical activity and daring which rendered the wild sports of the north entirely congenial, he added an intellectual indolence which rendered them entirely satisfying to him. He enter tained, indeed, a long-standing purpose of setting forth to seek his exiled brother. But the purpose alone seemed to yield sufficient exercise for his mind, apart from the putting of it into execution ; and several years before the time of our story two events had rendered this an impossibility. The first of these was the world-thrilling outburst of the Revolution in France ; the second was the early death of Laird Harold himself, an event of infinitely greater import ance to the community of Langskaill than the former. But the Revolution in France was followed a very few years later by a revolution in that quiet township also.

The present Laird suddenly appeared on the scene, fortified by all necessary legal proofs of the death of the absentee landlord, Ronald Linklater, senior, and of his own identity as the lawful heir. Thus the new Laird, whose existence had hitherto been unsuspected by all concerned in the estate, at once assumed the government of this little kingdom by the sea. The widowed lady of the Ha', with her boy and girl, were summarily removed from the home of so many happy years, and that amid circum stances which promised to leave small room for kindly relations between the new Laird and his relatives or neighbours. Nor could this be described in any way as a false step on his part ; it was entirely in keeping with all that had since been known of him during the years of his rule in the Ha'. While Ronald Linklater was thus hated by many, feared by still more, and distrusted by all, his appear ance and manner were such as might easily have gained him popularity.

And they would no doubt have been used in such a way had it ever occurred to him that his own personal interests could have been furthered thereby. As they traversed the sandy bridle-path this after noon, horse and rider must have struck every be holder as well-nigh perfect specimens so far as mere appearance was concerned. Yet however faultless his proportions, the face of the Laird was not an attract ive one. He seemed grave beyond his years. His face was rather a stern one, where smiles seldom ap peared, and never seemed quite at home. When his features condescended to express any emotion, it usually took the form of a frown ; but this was frequently displaced by, or rather developed into, a type of smile which was recognized in the district as peculiar to the Laird and characteristic of him.

The party for whose benefit this smile appeared rarely forgot it, and ever afterwards had a comparative affection for the more attractive frown. In the everyday struggle for wealth, or even for a bare livelihood, it is often impossible to avoid giving offence to another, and for this one must be prepared to meet with angry looks or words. But when, instead of this natural storm, there comes an unnatural calm, it does not always indicate that the offence has been overlooked or for given ; it is sometimes an indication that retaliation has been put off for a time in order that a deeper revenge may be planned. Such was the interpreta tion usually put upon this terrible smile, which, how ever, had proved of no avail this afternoon with the sturdy old yeoman. And yet to the simple neighbours it seemed as if the young Laird had little cause for frowns and small ground of quarrel with fortune.

All this pleasant landscape was his own, sloping from the warm purple of the Burry Hill to the snowy fringe of sandy beach, and from the frowningprecipice of the Muckle Craig on the north to the low ridge of Swarta Taing towards the south. All those cozy little dwellings, with their patches of corn-land, their pasture beyond the " hill dike," and their never-failing peat-moss, did they not all pay tribute to him ? His broad acres — well, they were in truth neither very many nor very broad. yet they were sufficient to raise him far above the rank of a " Peerie Laird,"* and no sensible Udaller-f of that rank from any parish round about would ever dream of claiming equality with him. To be strictly accurate, the only such claim ever made resulted in a very uncomfortable kind of dreaming. Men said that young Mansie of Nether Breck had, in the Laird's presence, used the pronoun we in such a way as to imply something like social equality, towards the close of a Lammas market-day.

Men also said that in spite of the festive season, Mansie had been effectually sobered * Peerie, small : a " peerie laird " is a small landholder. + Udaller, a freeholder, without a feudal superior. in one instant by the mere sight of the Laird's face ; that he had kept the cruizie* burning for two whole nights thereafter, and even then had been overheard saying strange things in his sleep. It was known also that before he quite recovered his peace of mind he had made an evening visit to the manse, in all the solemnity of his Sunday clothes. Now, as the worthy minister was possessed of considerable medical skill, of which he willingly gave his parishioners the benefit, the neighbours could not agree as to whether it was bodily or mental trouble for which Mansie had thus sought advice. Mansie's own explanation was that the object of his visit was merely to repair an old wazzie,-}- for, as the minister was only a Scotchman, he was naturally ignorant of the methods of constructing gear for his beasts out of gloy J and floss-bands. § And if this explanation was not accepted, it was at least a possible one.

Apart even from his territorial possessions, the Laird might have been reckoned fairly wealthy. His success as a shipowner has already been hinted at ; and there were stories also current regarding the vast stores of gold he had brought from his native land. * A kind of lamp. t A horse-collar made of straw. J Drawn straw. § Small ropes twisted from dried rushes. THE LAIRD'S HORSE. 29 It was beyond doubt that the old bank -agent in the town was sometimes sorely puzzled in dealing with the foreign gold which he was frequently called on to exchange for pieces bearing the e&gy of good King George. Now the ill repute of the Laird in the land of his adoption might, by some ignorant person, be ascribed to his foreign birth and breeding ; but little weight can be allowed to this opinion in view of the fact that his horse, with no claim whatever to an Orcadian ancestry, was universally admired.

The slender limbs and glossy coat of this magnificent creature had no suggestion of kinship with the serviceable sholties* and gerrons-fnow enjoying their long holiday on the moors beyond the hill dikes. This admiration of the Laird's beautiful foreign steed was all the more creditable, moreover, to the peerie lairds and tenants round about, in that it was entirely unmixed with covetous ness. While they admired, they had no real wish to possess, and were entirely satisfied with their own rough cattle. This unselfishness was no doubt partly due to the thought that in all probability this grand creature had not been educated in his youth to subsist on heather and bent during one part of the year, and * Sholtie, a native pony. + Gerron, a small horse. THE LAIRD'S HORSE. 30 on sea-weed during the remainder.

He would pro bably expect the luxury of a stable in rough weather, and one of a height unknown except at the Ha' itself. And some weight must be attached to the fact that no man, excepting the Laird, dared to mount him. The only man who had ever tried to do so now walked with a crutch, and had exchanged active agricultural pursuits for the more sedentary occupation of a cobbler. It might thus appear that this unselfishness of the neighbouring farmers was, on the whole, founded on self-interest, which seems, after all, a sufficiently re spectable and an undeniably solid foundation for a good many traits of character.

Chapter III. Father And Daughter

A DOMESTIC DISCUSSION. IN few battles, probably, whether chronicled or unrecorded, has it been the case that victory, com plete and unalloyed, or again, defeat, absolute and unredeemed, has been the exclusive possession of one side. Certainly, in the wordy skirmish between the Laird of Langskaill and his old tenant, neither of the combatants seemed to manifest the joy of the con queror. The Laird, whom we may regard as the attacking party, had, on the whole, sustained severe discomfiture, if not total rout. But though Josiah Marwick had been able to hold his ground, the vic tory was by no means a bloodless one for him. The Parthian shot of his adversary had left an arrow rankling in his bosom, whose wound would be hard to heal. The threat of ruin was, as he knew, by no means a mere threat, coming from the Laird.