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Updated: May 28, 2025
Hercus was a barefooted, red-haired boy, with gray eyes that were almost hidden in the fatness of his cheeks, and totally so when he laughed, as he invariably did on the least provocation. His brow and nose were covered with brown freckles, like a turkey's egg; and he wore a large sea jacket that had belonged to his father, one of the crew of the Curlew.
Tom Kinlay was, by his own appointment, our skipper; Robbie Rosson and Willie Hercus were classed able seamen; and my dog, Selta, and I were called upon to do duty for both passengers and cargo, curiously enough, sailing with the ship on every voyage. We had touched at each of these places in turn, and when we were homeward bound I was landed at an imaginary port in "Spain."
I dinna ken who she was. I think she was in a shipwreck." "Oh! Then it was no relation of yours?" "No. That is, I dinna think it. But I have heard that Thora was named after her." I asked him to tell me about the wreck; but just then Willie Hercus interrupted, saying: "Come along, Ericson; you had better be the one to divide the treasure for us. We all ken you'll divide it fairly."
Tom had just cut the last of the skin from the seal's head, and when he had folded it up, the three of us began our walk towards the further shore of the bay, expecting Hercus to follow with the dog. "Hello! what can be keeping Hercus so long?" asked Robbie, when we had walked some distance. I told him about the rat that the dog was after, and looked back for Willie.
It was heavy enough, certainly, to be silver; but the improbability of such a piece of the precious metal being left there presented itself, and none of us was quite satisfied until Hercus, taking out his knife, cut and scraped the surface of the ingot and revealed the shining white metal underlying the grit and tarnish that had gathered upon it during the years perhaps the centuries it had lain there undisturbed.
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