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Updated: June 14, 2025
The gillie handled the big rod as if it had been a fairy's wand, but to me it was like a giant's spear. It was a very different affair from fishing with five ounces of split bamboo on a Long Island trout-pond. The monstrous fly, like an awkward bird, went fluttering everywhere but in the right direction. It was the mercy of Providence that preserved the gillie's life.
"Here he is again! here's Old Whitehead, robbing the fish-hawk." I started up from the little commoosie beyond the fire, at Gillie's excited cry, and ran to join him on the shore. A glance out over Caribou Point to the big bay, where innumerable whitefish were shoaling, showed me another chapter in a long but always interesting story.
This was the seaman's toe against the step, of which he had been warned, but which he had totally forgotten; then a softer, but much heavier blow, was heard, accompanied by a savage growl that was the seaman's nose and forehead against old Mrs Roby's portal. At this, Gillie's expectations were realised, and his joy consummated.
May I ask if your means permit you to provide a comfortable home for Fanny the kind of home to which she has been accustomed?" The muscles of Mr. Gillie's nostrils contracted and for a moment it looked as if his slight frame were again about to be shaken convulsively by a mighty sneeze, but the spasm passed. He merely coughed loudly to clear his throat.
One night the father awoke, and saw a stranger examining and handling the clothes of the defunct. Then came a letter from the dead man's brother, inquiring about the effects. He followed later, and was the stranger seen by my gillie's father. Thus the living but absent may haunt a house both noisily and by actual appearance.
The man was as alone as he would have been in the Gobi. If he had planned to be alone one would have believed he had succeeded in that intention. And yet from the moment I got down from the gillie's cart I seemed drawn under a persisting surveillance. I felt now that some one was looking at me. I turned quickly. There was a door at the end of the room opening onto a bit of garden facing the sea.
It was an appalling smash, and when the Captain seized Gillie by the back of his trousers with one hand and lifted him tenderly out of the midst of the debris, the limp way in which he hung suggested the idea that a broken bottle must have penetrated his vitals and finished him. It was not so, however. Gillie's sagacity told him that he would probably be wounded if he were to move.
"Here they are, Cappen, all ready; fit to do dooty as a lookin'-glass to shave yerself," cried the "powder-monkey," leaping up and leaving the room abruptly. Gillie's opinion in regard to the madness of Lewis was shared by several of his friends above stairs.
"W'y, mother," cried the small boy who answered to the name of Gillie "don't you see I'm engaged? I'm a-showin' this 'ere sea-capp'n the course he's got to steer for port. He wants to make the cabin of old mother Roby." "W'y don't you do it quickly, then?" demanded Gillie's mother, "you bad, naughty, wicked boy.
By her orders two gold medals were struck in his honour; on his death, in 1883, a long and eulogistic obituary notice of him appeared in the Court Circular; and a Brown memorial brooch of gold, with the late gillie's head on one side and the royal monogram on the other was designed by Her Majesty for presentation to her Highland servants and cottagers, to be worn by them on the anniversary of his death, with a mourning scarf and pins.
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