Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-08-17
NO. 1874.
Tales aud Sketehes.
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A SAILORS YARN.


one trusted by the laird o'Taggart; so
that the minister, and the bailie o'the
nearest town, an Mrs. Gillespie, an the
farmers all cad him Mister; and nv
Uncle Ivan, who had his pounds awav in
the bank, cad him Mister too, and would
send me or Rab up with creel o'fish
when we had fine take, now and then;
so that we were on a footing of visitors
and Maggie would stand and laugh and
talk with me. and would gle Rab a blink,
and rose blush, and smile that made
us all laugh taegither, till used to won
der why it was that | wasn't one of Mag
gie's lovers-of which she had three
already, not counting Rab, who was two
years younger than she. and, of course,
was lookin' at her as boy of eighteen
always looks at a girl OF twenty, too shy
to speak. and too much in love to keep
silent, and so talking to anybody who'll
listen to him, which in Rab's case was me.
There were two men, ii not three,
hankering about Donald Miller's house
such times as they could make some ex-
cuse to gae there, an one o'them made
believe often enough, for he was head
keeper to the laird on some shootins that
lay an hours stout walking from Slieva-
loch; an now it was couple o'rabbits
for Mistress Miller or word or twa with
Donald about the bit cover for game
beyond the big house but athe time he
sat an smoked his tabackcr, or took sup
o'parritch or sowans, or a dish o'herrin'.
he'd have an eye to Maggie. An evil eye
it was, too, tor he was lowerin' carl,
and twas said that he was more poacher
than keeper, while some folk (and was
one) knew well that there was anither
business brought him round towards
Slievaloch. | shame to say it. but at that
time-ye ken | speak of nigh sixty years
ago-there was smoke to be seen COM
ing out frae neuk Z the hills at wild
place where there seemed to be naething
but granite and bracken, and shanty or
two for shelter to the men quarrying the
granite. But it wasna frae the hLts that
smoke rose. A good two mile AVA there
was stone cotlie, more like cave, as
though it had been burrowed out by wind
and water. and got closed in wi bouldels
crock, and covered with earth and broom,
so that naebOdy could see how it led by
hole i the prong O'the hill to just sich
anither hut, and neither of the twa to be
seen except by goin' DER the hillside.
In this second one there was fire smoul-
derin' in the furnace and a. the place dark
and smoky and fu' O. the reek O. sma'still
whiskey that had nae paid the kings duty
an on cowhide i the corner crouched
auld Birnie. as blear and withered as a
dried haddie, waitin' for his wife to come
trudgin' back wi silver shillins' and the
empty leather bottle of twa gallons that
she'd carried out full i the mornin', under
her lang, patched cloak, or hid ava in
the loose kindlin' wood at the bottom O.
the ricketin' cart.
1t was suspected that Rory Smith, the
keeper, was in league wi auld Brnie in
this sma' still, and that both he an the
o'erseer O. the quarry ry-men-a Welsh body
o the name O Preece-knew weel enough
what went VII the whiskey. The two
men were unlike as raven and an owl;
Smith bein' suspectit of half gypsy blood
though few men daur say so to his face.
for he'd heavy hand an look in his face
that boded mischief-while Preece was n
slow, heavy-eyed, quiet body, short an
square-built, and wi still tongue an
decent, careful ways that yet kept his
rough men in order, and got him speech
OF the tradefolk at the village where he
lodged such times as he wasna' up at the
quarry.
These were the two that went each in
his own fashion to visit Donald Miller
and to cast an eye on Maggie; but neither
o. them could boast of much encourage
ment, least of all the keeper. Preece
thought it prudent to wait till Smith was
out o the way; an both of them, as |
ioun' out after long years. were jealous O
me Tor seemin' to find mair favor wi
Maggie. and carryin' her the little pres
ents that told We of, though never word
o love-making passed my lips; and per-
haps bath o. us thought more o my cousin
Rab than O. each other.
Weel, it was just on one O. the occasions
when | was on my way to the house, one
evening in the airly summer, carrying
with me gaudy necklace o. shining
beads that fd bought of a packman at
Farmer Nicofs shearn', whar I'd been
The day before. I'd showd the toy to my
.tepmother and uncle and to Rab too,
and had asked him to take it to Maggie
himsel; but he put me off. saying that
he rather not be amang them that was
eien and glen sma' things. for he'd gied
her the best o. himself already. 1t was,
maybe, to ponder over these words that
took the way up the steep by-path that led
up the beach. an so zigzag along the
cliffs edge. There was sort O. ncuk
beside turn O. this path, where was
Dig stane. that one might sit upon, and
10 lose sight o everything but the distant
sea an the beach below, TO which the
'ocks shelved down. rugged an bare in
places, an In others wi toss an tange
, weed an brushwood, where there was
hollow in the face OF the cliff.
There sat an sat, and felt all strange
IN. drowsy, dreamin' about Rab an Mag
gle, but not rightly thinking O. anything,
out holding in my hand the bauble that
had taken out O. my pocket to look at.
Night was comm down quick out at sea
and the mist was creepin' over the hills,
when l heard mans footstep on the
path, and stood up to see who cam.
No need to look twice; twas Rory
Smith, the keeper, trampling quick and
heavy, and with heavy cudgel in his
,lenched hands-a murderous look in his
eyes. He turned upon me, clutching his
stick
"Whaur are ye goin'p" he said. ''and
Who's that forP" polntin' to the necklace