tack rocks and a glimpse of the whitewashed group of
cottages locally known as Eilygugg, from their overlooking the great
isolated, skittle-like, inaccessible stack rocks chosen by those rather
rare birds the little auks for their nesting-place year after year.

On and on sped the boat past the precipitous cliffs, which, with the
promontory-like point ahead, were the destruction of many a brave vessel
in the stormy times; and an inexperienced watcher from the shore would
often have suffered from that peculiar sensation known as having the
heart in the mouth on seeing the boat careen over before some extra
strong puff of wind, till it seemed as if the next moment the sail would
be flat on the water while the little vessel filled and went down.

But many years of teaching by the fishermen and Tom Bodger, the
wooden-legged old man-o'-war's man of Rockabie, had made Aleck, young
though he was, an expert manager of a fore and aft sailing boat, and the
boy sat fast, rudder in one hand, sheet in the other, ready at the right
moment to ease off the rope and by a dexterous touch at the rudder to
lessen the pressure upon the canvas so that the boat rose again and
raced onward till the great promontory ahead was passed. In due time
the land sheltered the young navigator, and he glided swiftly into the
little harbour of the fishing town, whose roughly-formed pier curved
round like a crescent moon to protect the little fleet of fishing-boats,
whose crews leaned over the cliff rail masticating tobacco and gazing
out to sea, as they rested from the past night's labour, and talked in a
low monotonous growl about the wind and the prospects of the night to
come.

Rockabie was a prolific place, as far as boys were concerned. There
were doubtless girls to balance them, but the girls were busy at home,
while the boys swarmed upon the pier, where they led a charmed life; for
though one of them was crowded, or scuffled, or pushed off every day
into deep water, when quarrelling, playing, or getting into someone's
way when the fish were landed, they seemed as if formed of cork or
bladder and wind instead of flesh and blood, for they always came up
again, to be pulled out by the rope thrown, or hooked out by a hitcher,
if they did not swim round to the rough steps or to the shore. Not one
was ever known to be drowned--that was the fate of the full-grown who
went out in smack or lugger to sea.

The sight of Aleck Donne's boat coming round t