“A list to port!” said he looking forward.  “Ha! that’s unlucky.  I wish it had been to starboard; but as it’s not much, the men may not notice it.  I fancy they’ll see more of ill luck in this cat.”

When I opened the bag, Baudrons escaped with a good dusting of flour on his fur.  The cat looked wildly uneasy; he showed no signs of that gentle docility which Grace Drever admired in him; but with his cheeks puffed out and the loose skin about his nose and head drawn up in uncanny wrinkles, he dashed across the deck once or twice, lashing his tail from side to side like a savage brute, and then, approaching the main hatchway, he made a great spring down the hold, there to enjoy himself amongst the mice.

Chapter XIII.  In Which I Receive A Present.

While all was busy on deck, Captain Gordon took my father and me below to his cabin.  It was a neatly fitted-up room with many books and pictures and maritime instruments that interested me.  What most attracted my attention was the captain’s private collection of fishing tackle and his armoury.  There were some fine landing nets and rods with bright brass rings and reels, and the artificial flies were quite confusing in their number and variety.  In the armoury were several six shooters of different patterns, and many double-barrelled guns and ornamented rifles.  Captain Gordon allowed me to handle some of these, and he explained their mechanism to me.

One little fowling piece that I examined was so light and so beautifully made that I returned to it again and again while the captain and my father were talking together.  It had a long steel barrel with delicate engraving upon it, and a carved stock.  I was admiring the spring of the trigger work when Captain Gordon asked me if I was a good shot.

“I have never fired a gun in my life,” I said.

To my surprise he said, “You may have that gun in your hand if you’ll accept it.”

“O, but I canna think of taking it from you, captain!” I replied.

“No, no, he’ll shoot himself,” objected my father; “and that will not be so good as if he fell ower the cliffs.  What will the lad want wi’ a gun?”

“But I’d like to give it him, pilot.  He’ll soon learn how to use it properly.

“Won’t you, Halcro?

“And as for shooting himself, why, remember the magic stone, pilot.”

Father muttered something to the effect that it was very good of the captain; and I, who was overwhelmed with gratitude for his kindness, feebly added my thanks.  So Captain Gordon gave me the fowling piece, together with a canister of gunpowder, and sufficient swan shot, I thought, to kill all the wild fowl in Orkney.

As I was leaving the ship, joyous in the possession of these ample materials for a whole summer of sport, and was bidding farewell to Captain Gordon, the mate came towards us at the rail and touched his hat.