"'Deed, I dinna ken about that, father," said my mother, helping me
to a plateful of fried sillocks. "If it's danger you're wantin' the
laddie to seek, he's seen o'er many dangers already, I'm thinking.
It's nearly drowned he was, only a week ago, in the Barra Flow,
swimming out after a dog that wasna worth the saving; and I have
seen him mysel' dangling over the Breckness cliffs, like a spider,
at the end of a rope I would not have trusted to hang Lucky
Drever's cat with! Danger, forsooth! the laddie is always in
danger."

It was like my mother to object to my taking to the sea, even for
the pleasure of a sail. Although she well knew that it was the only
life open to an Orkney lad, yet she was ever anxious to delay its
beginning, and at these words from her my father did not urge me
further, but quietly watched me as I rose from the table and took
from a rack over the window a small harpoon, the sharp point of
which I tested by pressing it against my thumb.

"Oh, there's a lad!" exclaimed Jessie. "Off to the sealing when he
might have a fine sail in the Curlew. I wish I could get such a
chance."

"All right, lad!" interrupted my father. "Away with you to the
sealing. You'll get many another chance of a sail. Who's going with
you?"

"Robbie Rosson and Willie Hercus and--" I added with some
hesitation, "Tom Kinlay," for I knew my father did not entirely
approve of Tom as a companion.