e warm clothing for me, for use
on the cold nights at sea, and in other ways preparing for my
leaving, I sought to add to our stock of winter provisions by a
free use of my gun. The eider ducks, or dunter geese, as we call
them in Orkney, are always plentiful in the winter time, and
valuable not only for their flesh, but also for their rich downy
feathers, and I managed to procure a good number of these. Over at
the fresh-water loch of Harray, too, several teals and sheldrakes
were taken. And then, when my sport was over, I hung up my gun in
its place in the warm byre, believing that I was now a man.

So passed the time pleasantly and profitably until, much to my
satisfaction, the good ship Falcon arrived in the bay and dropped
anchor off the jetty.

Chapter XXIX. In Which The "Falcon" Sets Sail.

It was on a gray, wintry Saturday morning that we set sail on my
first Orcadian voyage. I had, you may be sure, been up at an early
hour, helping to load the little vessel with its miscellaneous
cargo, to be carried to the many indolent island ports at which our
skipper proposed calling. We were ready by about eight o'clock,
when I was sent ashore along with Jerry to get two or three letters
from the postmaster that had been waiting two weeks for the Falcon,
to be taken to some of the outlying islands; for the schooner, in
addition to her regular work, also carried the Queen's mails. Then,
aboard again, we weighed anchor, the harbour was cleared, and we
dropped below the Lookout Hill into the Sound.

It was a bitter cold morning, but my excitement on being outward
bound on my first trip was enough to keep me warm, and I paced the
deck proudly as we passed slowly into the broken water. Over the
brown slopes of Graemsay the late-rising sun struggled sleepily to
penetrate a dreamy haze; but soon his warmth had strength to melt
the white hoar frost from our rigging, and with a brisk breeze and
an outflowing tide we slipped through the Sound, dipping and rising
as we met the swelling waves of the outer sea. Then the great
headland of Hoy loomed into sight, its yellow and red cliffs
gleaming across the water as if sunshine always bathed them.

From the deck, as we sailed blithely along, I watched the billows
rolling landward and dashing upon the hard rocks, resounding with
thunderous noise among the hollow chasms. I was unwilling to go
below before we had passed beyond the sight of Stromness, but when
we were abreast of