The Four Macnicols by William Black (the gingerbread man read aloud .txt) 📖

that we earned our own, and not in debt to any one whatever.'

Of course that was a dream of the future; for a herring-skiff costs a considerable sum of money, and so do nets. But in the meantime they were all agreed that what Rob counselled was wise; and a share in Coll MacDougall's boat was accordingly purchased, after a great deal of bargaining.

A proud lad was Rob MacNicol the afternoon he came along to the wharf to take his place in the boat that was now partly his own. His brothers and cousin were there to see him (envious a little, perhaps; but proud also, for part of their money had gone to buy the share). He had likewise purchased second-hand a huge pair of boots that were as soft and pliable as grease could make them; and he carried a brand-new yellow oilskin in his hand that crackled as he walked. Neil, Duncan, and Nicol watched him throw his oilskin into the boat, and go forward to the bow, and take his place there at the oar; and they knew very well that if there was any one who could pull a huge oar better than Rob MacNicol, it was not in Erisaig that that person was to be found. Then the big herring-skiff passed away out to the point in the red glow of the evening; and Rob had achieved the first great ambition of his life.


CHAPTER V.


THE HIGH ROAD.

That was not a very good year for the herring-fishing on this part of the coast; but at all events Rob MacNicol learned all the lore of the fishermen, and grew as skilled as any of them in guessing at the whereabouts of the herring; while at the end of the season he had more than replaced the 12 pounds he had used of the common fund. Then he returned to the tailor's boat, and worked with his brothers and cousin. He was proud to know that he had a share in a fishing-skiff; but he was not too proud to turn his hand to anything else that might help.

These MacNicol boys had grown to be greatly respected in Erisaig. The audacity of four 'wastrel laddies' setting up to be fishermen on their own account had at first amused the neighbours; but their success and their conduct generally, soon raised them above ridicule; and the women especially were warm in their commendation. They saw how Rob gradually improved the appearance of his brothers and cousin. All of them had boots and stockings now. Not only that, but they had white shirts and jackets of blue cloth to go to church with on Sunday; and each of them put twopence in the collection-plate just as if they had all been sons of a rich shopkeeper. Moreover, they were setting an example to the other boys about. Four of these, indeed, combined to start a cuddy-fishing business similar to that of Rob's. Neil was rather angry; but Rob was not afraid of any competition. He asked the new boys to come and see how he had rigged up the guy-poles. He said there were plenty of fish in the sea; and the market was large enough. But when the new boys asked him to lend them some money to buy new ropes he distinctly declined. He had got on without borrowing himself.

It was a long and dreary winter; but Nicol had nearly finished with his schooling; and the seine-net had been largely added to; and every inch of it overhauled. Then the cuddy-fishing began again; and soon Rob, who was now nearly eighteen, and remarkably firm-set for his age, would be away after the herring.

One day, as Rob was going along the main thoroughfare of Erisaig, the banker called him into his office.

'Rob,' said he, 'have ye seen the skiff[1] at the building-yard?'

'Ay,' said Rob rather wistfully, for many a time he had stood and looked at the beautiful lines of the new craft. 'She's a splendid boat.'

'And ye've seen the new drift-net in the shed?'

'Ay, I have that.'

'Well, ye see, Rob,' continued Mr. Bailie, regarding him with a good-natured look; 'I had the boat built and the net bought as a kind of speculation; and I was thinking of getting a crew through from Tarbert. They say the herring are beginning to come about some of the western lochs. Now I have been hearing a good deal about you, Rob, from the neighbours. They say that you, and your brothers and cousin, are sober and diligent lads; and that you are good seamen, and careful. Then you have been a while at the herring fishing yourself. Now do you think you could manage that new boat?'

'Me!' said Rob, with his eyes staring, and his face aflame.

'I go by what the neighbours say, Rob. They say ye are a prudent lad, not over venturesome; and I think I could trust my property to ye. What say ye?'

In his excitement at the notion of being made master of such a beautiful craft, Rob forgot the respect he ought to have shown in addressing so great a person as the banker. He blurted out--

'Man, I would just like to try!'

'I will pay ye a certain sum per week while the fishing lasts,' continued Mr. Bailie, 'and ye will hire what crew ye think fit. Likewise I will give ye a percentage on the takes. Will that do?'

Rob was quite bewildered. All he could say was--

'I am obliged to ye, sir. Will ye wait for a minute till I see Neil.'

And very soon the wild rumour ran through Erisaig that no other than Rob MacNicol had been appointed master of the new skiff, the _Mary of Argyle_; and that he had taken his brothers and cousin as his crew. Some of the women shook their heads; and said it was a shame to let such mere lads go to the herring-fishing--for some night or other they would be drowned; but the men, who knew something of Rob's seamanship, had no fear at all; and their only doubt was about the younger lads being up to the heavy work of hauling in the nets in the morning.

But their youth was a fault that would mend week by week. In the meantime, Rob, having sold out his share in MacDougall's boat, bought jerseys and black boots and yellow oil-skins for his companions; so that the new crew, if they were rather slightly built, looked smart enough, as they went down to the slip to overhaul the _Mary of Argyle_.

With what a pride they regarded the long and shapely lines of her--the yellow beams shining with varnish; the tall mast at the bow, with its stout cordage; the brand-new stove, that was to boil their tea for them in the long watches of the night; the magnificent oars; the new sheets and sails--everything spick and span. And this great mass of ruddy netting lying in the shed, with its perfect floats and accurate sinkers--this was not like the makeshift that had captured the cuddies.

Then on the morning that the _Mary of Argyle_ put to sea on her trial trip, her owner was on board; but he merely sat on a thwart. It was Rob who was at the tiller; Rob wanted to try the boat; the owner wanted to observe the crew. And first of all she sailed lightly out of the harbour, with the wind on her beam; then outside, the breeze being fresher, they let her away down Loch Scrone, with the brilliant new lug-sail bellying out; then they brought her round, and fought her up against the stiff wind--Rob's brief words of command being obeyed with the rapidity of lightning.

'Well, what do ye think of her?' said Mr. Bailie to his young skipper.

Rob's face was aglow with pride.

'I think she's like a race-horse!' he said. 'I think she would lick any boat in Erisaig Bay.'

'But it is not to run races I have handed her over to ye. You must be careful, Rob; and run back if there's any squally weather about. I'll no be vexed if you're over cautious. For ye know if anything was to happen to one of they lads, the people would say I had done wrong in lippening[2] a boat to such a young crew.'

'Well, sir,' said Rob, boldly, 'ye have seen them work the boat. Do they look like lads who do not know what sailing a boat is?'

Mr. Bailie laughed, and said no more.

Then came the afternoon on which they were to set out for the first time after the herring. All Erisaig came out to see; and Rob was a proud lad as he stepped on board (with the lazy indifference of the trained fisherman very well imitated) and took his seat as stroke oar. The afternoon was lovely; there was not a breath of wind; the setting sun shone over the bay; and the _Mary of Argyle_ went away across the shining waters with the long white oars dipping with the precision of clock-work. It was not until they were at the mouth of the harbour that something occurred which seemed likely to turn this brave setting-out into ridicule.

This was Daft Sandy, who rowed his punt right across the path of the _Mary of Argyle_, and, as she came up, called to Rob.

'What is it ye want?' Rob called to him.

'I want to come on board, Rob,' the old man said, as he now rowed his punt up to the stern of the skiff.

'I have no tobacco, and I have no whisky,' Rob said, impatiently. 'There'll be no tobacco or whisky on board this boat so long as I have anything to do with her; so ye needna come for that, Sandy.'

'It's no for that,' said Daft Sandy, as, with the painter of his boat in one hand, he gripped the stern of the skiff with the other.

Now Rob was angry. Many of the Erisaig people would still be watching their setting-out; and was it to be supposed that they had taken this doited old body as one of the crew? But then Daft Sandy was at this moment clambering into the boat; and Rob could not get up and fight with an old man, who would probably tumble into the water.

'Rob,' said he, in a whisper, as he fastened the painter of his punt, 'I promised I would tell ye something. I'll show ye how to find the herring.'

'You!' said Rob, derisively.

'Ay, me, Rob, I'll make a rich man of you. I will tell you something about the herring that not any one in Erisaig knows--that not any one in Scotland knows.'

'Why havena ye made a rich man of yourself, Sandy?' said Rob, with more good nature.

The half-witted creature did not seem to see the point of this remark.

'Ay, ay,' he said, 'many is the time I was thinking of telling this one or telling that one; but when I would go near it was always "Daft Sandy!" and "Daft Sandy!" and there was always the peltin' wi' the broken herring--except from you, Rob. And I was saying to myself that when Rob MacNicol has a boat of his own, then