the Black Craigs I thought I would go down and
have a drop of hot coffee. I had no sooner got into the cabin,
however, when, what with the pitching of the schooner and the smell
of the cheese and bacon and other things, I began to feel a
sickening, so I went on deck again and busied myself as best I
could, though the skipper had told me he would not expect me to do
any work until I got my sea legs.

I soon fell into my simple duties, which were the more easy to me
since my acquaintance with ships and sailors in Stromness had given
me some slight knowledge of the routine work of a small craft.
Whenever the schooner was brought round on a new tack I was ready
to lend a hand with the ropes. I helped to keep trim the deck, and
even had the proud task of taking my trick at the tiller. When I
was well enough to venture below I had the duty of preparing the
meals, with the help of Jerry, who was man-of-all-work. But this
was not until we had been out some days.

On the first day I did little but hang about on deck, or sit on the
weather gunwale with Captain Flett. 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.
Th