CHAPTER VII.--THE PARTING COMES AT LAST.
If Duncan M'Vayne were a mere imaginary hero, I should not take creditfor any virtue that in him lay, but I don't mind telling you, reader,that very few of the heroes of my stories are altogether creations of myfairly fertile brain. Like most sailor-men who have seen a vast deal ofthe world, I have so much truth to tell that it would be downrightfoolish to fall back upon fiction for some time yet.
And so I am not ashamed to say that Duncan was one of those _raraaves_--boys who think. I do not care to study the characters of boyswho are not just a little bit out of the common run. Ordinary boys areas common as sand-martins in an old gravel-pit, and they are not worthwriting about.
Well brought up as he had been, so far away in the lonesome wilds of theScottish Highlands, and having few companions save his brother andparents, it is but little wonder that he dearly loved his father andmother. To tell the whole truth, the affection felt by Scottish boystowards their parents is very real and sincere indeed. It is a lovethat most assuredly passes the knowledge of southerners, and in sayingso I am most sincere.
Well, neither he, Duncan, nor Conal either could help knowing that oflate years circumstances connected with the estate of Glenvoie hadbecome rather straitened, and although obliged to keep up a good show,as I may term it, his father was far indeed from being wealthy at thepresent time. The estate was not a large one certainly, but it wouldhave been big enough to live well upon, had the shootings let as well asthey did long ago.
Is it any wonder that talking together about their future, as theyfrequently did before going to sleep, Duncan and Conal used often to askeach other the question, "How best can we be of some use to Daddy?" Andit was indeed a difficult one to answer.
Both lads had already all the "schooling" they needed to enable them tomake a sturdy fight with or against the world, but the idea of going asclerks or shopmen to a city like Glasgow or even Edinburgh was utterlyrepulsive to their feelings.
They were sons of a proud Highland chief, although a poor one. Alas!how often poverty and pride are to be seen, arm in arm, in bonnieScotland. But anyhow, they were M'Vaynes. Besides, the wild country inwhich they had spent most of their lives until now, had imbued them withromance.
Is that to be wondered at? Did not romance dwell everywhere aroundthem? Did they not breathe it in the very air that blew from off themountains, and over the heathery moorlands? Did it not live in the darkwaving pine forests, and in the very cliffs that overhung the leadenlakes, cliffs whereon the eagle had his eyry? Was it not heard in theroar of the cataract, and seen in the foaming rapids of streams thatchafed its every boulder obstructing their passage to yonder ocean wildand wide? Yes, and Duncan was proud of that romance, and proud too,with a pride that is unknown in England of the grand story of hisnever-conquered country.
And so we cannot be astonished to find the three lads sitting together,in solemn conclave, on a bright summer's forenoon, far away on a greenbrae that overlooked Glenvoie.
Indeed, they had come here seriously to discuss their future.
Viking was lying close to Duncan with his great loving lump of a head onthe boy's lap.
"You see," Duncan was saying, "it is precious hard for lads like us, whohaven't any money to get a kind of a start in the world. If we couldonly get a beginning, I feel certain we should need no more. But ourfather is poor, Frank!"
"Heigho!" sighed Frank, "and so, alas! is mine."
"I know," continued Duncan, "that he would scrape the needful togethersomehow if we asked him. He could not sell any portion of the estate,because it is entailed, but I know that father would try hard to raiseenough money to send Conal and me to sea as apprentices."
"And you really think you'll go to sea?" said Frank.
"As certain as sunrise, Frank. Mind I don't expect to find things quiteso rosy as books paint them, but to sea I go for all that, and so willConal."
"And so will I," cried Frank determinedly. "For my father is poorer farthan yours. But I won't go before the mast, as I think you mean to."
"No?"
"No! because I have an uncle who has already promised to give me alittle lift in life, and I haven't got so much Highland pride as you, soI'll ask him to apprentice me.
"I wonder," he added, "if dear old Captain Talbot would have me?"
"Oh," cried Duncan, "I had entirely forgotten. I have a letter fromTalbot. He has given up the coasting trade, and is now in theMediterranean, sailing betwixt London and Italy, a merchant ship, andI'm sure he will be glad to take you. He'll be back at the port ofLondon in September. Why, Frank, old man, you're in luck.
"And as for Conal and I, we shall go before the mast."
"I'm sorry for you, boys."
"But you needn't be. Not the slightest wee bit. Many an officer in themerchant service, ay, and in the Royal Navy as well, has entered throughthe hawsehole."
"That means risen from the ranks, doesn't it?"
"Something very like it."
"Well," said Conal, "is it all arranged?"
"I think so," replied Duncan. "And the sooner we set about putting ourresolves into force the better, I think."
Then he sighed as he bent down and gave poor Vike's honest head a goodhug, and I'm not sure there wasn't a tear in his eye as he said:
"Poor Vike! your master is going away where he can't take you. Butyou'll be good, won't you, till we come back again, and look well afteryour little mistress, Flora. I know you will, doggie."
If ever grief was depicted in a dog's looks, and we know it often is,you might have seen it in Viking's now. I do not mean to say that heknew all his master said. He was too young for that, but he could tellfrom the mere intonation of Duncan's voice that grief was in store forall.
----
Chief M'Vayne was much averse at first to his sons becoming mere boysbefore the mast, but Duncan and Conal were determined, and so he cameround at last and gave his consent.
I am going to say just as little as I can about the parting. Partingsare painful to write about.
Not only the boys but M'Vayne himself were heroic. It does not do forclansmen to show weakness, but the mother's tears fell thick and fast,and poor Flora was to be pitied.
It was the first cloud of sorrow that had fallen upon her young life,and she felt desolate in the extreme. She believed she would neversurvive it. She would have no pleasure or joy now in wandering over thehills and through the forests dark and wild.
"I will pray for you both." These were about the last words she said.
"And for me too, Florie," said Frank sadly.
"Oh, yes, and for you."
Then he kissed her.
For the first time--wondering to himself, if it would be the last.
He had gotten a pretty little ring for her, with blue stones and ananchor on it. And of this she was very proud.
"Mind," he said, "you're a sailor's sweetheart now."
Then they mounted the trap that was to drive them to the neareststation, and away they went, waving hands and handkerchiefs, of course,until a bend in the road and a few pine-trees shut the dear old homefrom their view.
BOOK II.
THE CRUISE OF THE _FLORA M'VAYNE._