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Updated: June 10, 2025
As Maw had said, it was "a pleasant place for Paw to lay in." There were some old neighbors out in their own rigs, and Uncle Clem had brought his family up in his car, with a proper wreath; and Reverend Kearns came up and declining all lien on the broilers read the burial service, and spoke a little about poor Paw. But it wasn't a funeral, no how.
We reached that place without any adventure; and the same evening, having wished our kind friends, Captain Driscoll and Mr Dwyer, good-bye, sailed for San Francisco, the wonderful port of the gold regions of California. One fine morning we found the Triton one of a crowd of vessels of all rigs and sizes standing in with a fair breeze towards the far-famed harbour of San Francisco.
Amarilly listened eagerly for Bobby's answer which brought a sigh of relief. "I wouldn't wear one of them rigs on a bet," he had scoffingly answered. "One hundred and twenty-five dollars," Bud now replied modestly. "Gee! you take the cake!" said Bobby. Amarilly was sorry that she had to call Bobby's name next. But Bobby had a surprise in store for them all.
"Mighty queer tactics," muttered Edwards. "I think she's steering herself." "Good thing she carries a weather helm," commented Ives, who was an expert on sailing rigs. "Most of that type do. Otherwise she'd have jibed her masts out, running loose that way." Captain Parkinson appeared on deck and turned his glasses for a full minute on the strange schooner.
There was the woman who's always hungry, nibbling chocolates out of a box; and the woman fallen asleep, with her hat on the side, and hairpins dropping out of her hair; and the woman who's beside herself with fear that she'll miss her train; and the woman who is taking notes about the other women's rigs. And
There must have been twenty vehicles, altogether, and some of the rigs were already starting out and driving briskly away in different directions. Mr. Hopkins was puzzled. He approached one of the white-overalled men who was loading cans of paint into a wagon and inquired: "Who are you fellows?" "Sign painters," answered the man, with an amused look. "Who do you work for?"
Then, too, some of the miners who had heard the great event talked up, got together in the dead of night and decorated the several rigs with gay bunting, fastening two small flags to the front of each wagon and even trimming up the horses' harnesses until the results were quite dazzling to childish eyes.
And presently she found herself pouring out her troubled thoughts about David, about the lions that she feared stood in his path at Oxford, about the hole his going made in the little household at The Rigs. It was a comfort to tell it all to this delightful-looking stranger who seemed to understand in the most wonderful way. "I remember when my brother Biddy went to Oxford," Pamela told her.
The only servant The Rigs possessed was a middle-aged woman, the widow of one Andrew M'Cosh, a Clyde riveter, who had drifted from her native city of Glasgow to Priorsford. She had a sweet, worn face, and a neat cap with a black velvet bow in front. Jock rose from the table reluctantly, and was at once hailed by the Mhor and invited on to the raft.
And she produced the huge vest of padded cork, which folded up so easily along the seams! The Rector looked at the strange mechanism and smiled. Did you ever! What things people could think of! "I'd heard there were rigs like that in the world, but I never saw one before. Glad to have it aboard, though I can swim like a fish, myself, and never do it in uniform!"
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