A Choice Among Three

Not many minutes after I left the schoolmaster, when I was passing by the wharf, I met Jack Paterson. Jack was standing looking down into the water, with his two hands deep in his trousers pockets, and his face bearing an expression of curious indecision.

“Hello, Jack, what’s troubling you now?” I asked, approaching him.

“Troubling me! Well, I suppose it is troubling me, too. The fact is, Ericson, I’ve been asked to take command of the new pilots.”

“Well, man, that’s surely nothing to look so gloomy about, is it?”

“No, lad; and I wouldna trouble sae muckle if I could see my way clear to takin’ the offer. But, ye see, Halcro, I canna do the piloting without a boat.”

“I see, I see. Ay, Jack, but that’s a pity, man. And ye canna get the money towards buying the St. Magnus?”

“No; the St. Magnus is for sale, I weel ken that, and she’s a right good boat. But where can a poor crofter body like me get the siller, think ye?”

“’Deed, I dinna ken, Jack; but maybe the siller will come somehow. There’s many a one in Orkney would advance it for you, surely. Dinna be cast down about it, man. What about your crew?”

“Weel, I was thinkin’ of yersel for one, Halcro?”

“Of me!”

“Ay, and Jimmie Crageen, and Ronald Ray from Kirbister, and Steenie Barrie; all o’ them good honest men and weel acquainted wi’ the Orkneys. What d’ye say, Halcro? Will ye join us?”

“I canna say, Jack. Ye see there’s the Falcon. I couldna leave Davie Flett very well; though I’ll not deny I’d rather be a pilot than anything else.”

“Weel, ye’ll think of it any way; and if we can get the money, there’s no doubt but we’ll manage the business right enough.”

With that I left Jack on the wharf and continued my way, meditating upon this chance of fulfilling my ambition of being a Pomona pilot.

I had not gone far, however, when I heard a quick step behind me.

“Ericson, Ericson!” some one called.

I turned and saw Lieutenant Fox following me in full uniform, and with a young midshipman attending him. He came up to me, and, after a few ordinary observations, said:

“I wanted to ask you something, Ericson. We’re short-handed on the Clasper, and we need the help of a man who knows these islands well; someone who knows all about the people, and can be of service in keeping down the smuggling. Now, what d’ye say? Will you join us yourself?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Fox,” I replied, for I had already half made up my mind about the piloting, and with true Orkney instinct I clung to the old ways of my family. “I’m afraid not, sir. You see I’m aboard the Falcon just now, and if I leave Davie Flett it will only be to join the new pilots.

“But if you’re needing a hand,” I continued, thinking just then of Willie Hercus, “I can get you a lad that knows just about as much of the Orkneys as I do, one that has always wished to be a man-o’-war’s man.”

“I’d rather have yourself, Ericson,” said the officer. “Just think about it, will you? It’s a good opening for you, and you may yet reach the quarterdeck and become an admiral, and fly your own pennant before you’re as old as Davie Flett. Let me know as soon as you decide. But if you can’t join us, send your friend. Good evening!”

As the young lieutenant walked away with a great clattering of his long sword, I looked at his laced cocked hat and his épaulettes, and fancied myself in a similar uniform. However, my native simplicity came to my rescue, and, good as this opportunity of serving my Queen appeared, I yet thought fondly of the pilot’s busy, perilous life. Something told me that it was my destiny to be a pilot, as my fathers for three generations had been before me.

I went into Oliver Gray’s inn, and there found my skipper, Davie Flett, awaiting me. He was talking with a little old man, whom I soon recognized as Isaac the Dutch Jew, who had bought the viking’s ruby from Tom Kinlay. When I entered, Isaac retired to a far corner of the parlour and watched me closely as I talked with Captain Flett.

“When do we sail, captain?” I asked, as I sat down beside the skipper.

“Tomorrow night,” said he.

And I judged that I should now have to determine without delay which of the three appointments I should take-remain with Flett, join the revenue cutter, or become a pilot.

“I’ve just been speaking with Lieutenant Fox of the Clasper,” I said. “He wants me to go into the revenue business.”

“Ay! and so you’re to be a blue jacket, eh?” mused Flett, without offering any objection to my leaving the Falcon.

“No,” I replied, “I’m not sure yet that I’ll join them, captain. The fact is, I have also seen Jack Paterson, and he wants me to become a pilot.”

“That’s more in your line, my lad. Tak’ my advice and join the pilots. Ye’ll do better as a pilot than anything else. It’s in your blood. As for the Falcon, I said when you came aboard us that you could easily leave if you chanced upon something better. We can soon get another lad to fill your berth. Maybe ye ken a lad yersel’ that would come aboard us?”

“Ay, that I do,” I responded. “There’s Robbie Rosson, he’d be glad of the chance.”

“Bring him to me then, Halcro, and we’ll take him along with us next trip to see if he likes it.”

Here was a fortunate opportunity. By my own advancement I was to be the means of helping my two school companions. Willie Hercus was to join the revenue cutter; Robbie Rosson was to go aboard the Falcon. As for myself, I may say that it was a foregone conclusion with me that I should take to the piloting.

“Has Paterson got a boat yet, Halcro?” asked the skipper.

“No, that is his one difficulty. He wants the money. I wish I could only get some money from somewhere.”

Captain Flett lapsed into silence, as though, acting in his customary fashion, he was contriving in his mind how best to secure a pilot boat for Jack Paterson. Presently the old Jew edged nearer to us and said to me:

“Did I hear you say you vant money, mine young friend?”

“That’s a thing a good many folk want,” said I. “Why?”

“Vy? Oh, just because I tink you have got someting vort a great lot of money. Dot little black stone you showed me; long time ago, you know.”

Here Captain Flett interposed, speaking with Isaac in Dutch. A long conversation followed in that language, during which Flett asked me for my viking’s stone. The old Jew took the talisman in his long fingers. He regarded it as though he were familiar with its structure, twisting it round and screwing the thin band of gold that encircled it. Then a very wonderful thing happened. He gave the stone a few taps upon the table and the metal ring fell off. The stone dropped open in two pieces like a shell, and in the heart of it appeared a bright clear gem that sparkled in the light of the oil lamp hanging above us. I looked on in dumb amazement.

This stone, Jarl Haffling’s talisman, that I had carried about with me so long, fondly believing that it had the power to protect me from all perils, was it no talisman after all? I doubted it now. Whatever dangers I had gone through had been surmounted by no aid from this supposed amulet, but simply by my own endeavours. But useless as it no doubt was in this particular, I could well imagine that the bright diamond which had been so cunningly enclosed within its hard stony shell might be of considerable value.

That it was of great value I soon discovered from what the old Hebrew informed me. He took from his inner pocket a tiny pair of scales, and proceeded to weigh the glittering jewel in the balance. Then he made some calculations on a dirty piece of paper, speaking as he did so in Dutch with Captain Flett.

“D’ye want to sell the thing, Halcro?” said the skipper. “He says he canna buy it himsel’, but he kens its value. He’s the agent of a diamond merchant in Amsterdam.”

I hesitated to answer, reflecting upon my need of money. My mother was poor; I could help her by selling this thing, and then, if I should get for it more than sufficed for her immediate needs, was there not this pilot boat to buy? I might be able to become part owner of the St. Magnus.

“What does he say the diamond is worth?” I asked of Flett.

The sum he named astonished me. I could scarcely contain my wonder at the thought of it.

“Five hundred guineas,” answered Flett.

Five hundred guineas! Why, that was a fortune.

“Would you give me that much for it?” I asked, looking at old Isaac.

“Ah! mine young man, you tink me rich. I could not offer you five hundred shilling for the stone. I only tell you it is vort so much.”

He thereupon replaced the gem within its covering of stone, drew on the band of gold again, and returned to me my talisman in its original condition. Then he drank the gin that was in the glass before him, and put back his little scales into his pocket. Before leaving us he handed me a little card on which was inscribed the name of a diamond merchant in Amsterdam.

“You are a sailorman,” he said, buttoning up his coat. “You may be in Amsterdam one day. If you go to dat address dey vill buy the stone from you; but do not take one groschen less dan five hundred guineas. Good day, mynheer!”

And he went out.

“Weel,” said Davie Flett, “I must say that’s a queer auld fellow.”

“He seems to have turned honest,” I said.

“The auld scoundrel has taken a liking for you, Halcro,” said the skipper, smiling.

“But,” said I, “I almost wish he had bought the diamond.”

“Nonsense, lad! keep it and bide ye’re time. Besides, you forget the dominie’s ‘Law of Treasure Trove’”

“Ah, yes, I suppose I would only be entitled to a third of the money after all,” I said. “But what about the pilot boat?”

“That will be all square, my lad. Did they not tell you that I had bought the St. Magnus?”

“No! do you really mean that, captain?”

“Certainly I mean it. And you and Jack Paterson can start the piloting as soon’s ye like.”

That night, as I sat at Andrew Drever’s fireside talking of Jarl Haffling’s talisman, Thora Quendale told us how, when one day after her illness she was sitting in an armchair, with the stone dangling by a string from her hand, she fell asleep before the warm fire. She was awakened by hearing a footstep in the room; it was Tom Kinlay’s. She felt for the stone, but it was gone. Tom had stolen it. This was how it came into his possession. Evidently it was by a mere accident that he left it at the top of the cliff, before going down to the cave, after the death of Colin Lothian.

That night, too, Andrew Drever told me, as he had promised to do, how he had received news from Copenhagen concerning Thora; how the insurance money on the ship Undine and on Mr. Quendale’s life was to revert to Thora. This would surely make her a wealthy woman. But the business connected with this, and the inheritance of her father’s real and personal property, required that Thora should go to Copenhagen to establish her claims in person at the chancery courts of Denmark. Mr. Drever was interesting himself specially on her account in the capacity of a guardian, and he was soon to accompany her to Denmark and leave her there, probably for several years.