as herself running into some danger, drifting outward with
the current.

I spent no time in expressions of regret or lamentation over the
calamity that had befallen the men of the Curlew; but, feeling that
it was in some measure my duty to undertake the work my father had
set out to perform, I told Captain Gordon the best course to take
to cheat the tide, and gave him such advice as only a person
acquainted with Hoy Sound could possibly give. Under these
directions the barque was guided through the easiest channels into
the smooth water inside the Holms, where the anchor was dropped and
the vessel secured.

Captain Gordon, who had been very kind to me during all this time,
procured me a can of hot coffee to send away my chill. He then
threw a warm pea jacket over my trembling shoulders, and came
ashore with us in the small boat that Jessie and Thora had taken
the use of. He also accompanied us to our home to break the sad
news to our mother--a mission in which he showed a fine tenderness
and sympathy of heart.

Chapter XXII. After The Accident.

The sad catastrophe in Hoy Sound cast a gloom over the little town
of Stromness, where the unfortunate men had been held in great
respect. By the fishers and sailors of the island Sandy Ericson had
been regarded as a sort of chief. When any ship touched at the port
it was his genial face that was first seen, and when they passed on
their long voyages to distant lands it was he who gave the last
word of farewell. Among the women he had been esteemed as an
oracle, to whom they went for comfort in stormy weather when in
doubt as to the fate of lovers or husbands at the fishing; and even
the young children had learned to know his heavy stride, and to run
into the street when he approached, that they might cling to his
great, gentle hand and hear his kind, cheery voice.

The accident had been seen by a large number of women who had
gathered on the Lookout Hill, where they were wont to assemble in
rough weather when watching for the return of the fishing smacks.
When the Curlew was seen to capsize a loud shriek rent the air, for
all knew that to be cast into that dreadful tideway meant almost
certain death. The impulse of my sister Jessie and Thora to put out
in a small boat that lay at the water's edge, on the possible
chance of saving some of us, was, therefore, looked upon as a mad
freak. But when the two girls were seen to rescue me from the
upturned boat, they were