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Updated: June 11, 2025


As for Sir Tristram he made merry with their fear, saying: "It is well that we who are knights-errant have more courage than you who are sailor-men, else it would not be possible that monsters such as this Sir Nabon should ever be made an end of."

All the ships in the world seemed to lie there, and the quays were thick with sailor-men. The streets rang with noise. I suddenly found that I was a young gentleman from the country. I followed my luggage to the best inn, and it was very splendid, fit to be a bishop's palace. It was filled with handsomely dressed people who all seemed to be yelling, "Landlord! landlord!"

And each of them i' the middle watch the sleepy hour, Mart'n, just afore dawn. In a fair night, pal, wi' a calm sea these men vanish and none to see 'em go. And all of 'em prime sailor-men and trusty. The which, Mart'n, sets a cove to wondering who'll be next." "But are you sure they are gone?"

Ah, poor Sayers! The brutes! And Sayers had a young wife! He lifted his head from the paper, and stared out of the carriage windows, where tiny cottages, with neat white stones for their garden borders, showed that the train was passing through a residential district much affected by retired sailor-men.

Why, for example, should some people have more cash than they know how to spend and that, too, without working for it whilst we poor sailor-men have to strive night and day, in fair weather and foul, just to keep soul and body from parting company? I say it ain't fair; things ain't evenly divided, as they should be.

"She's fully big for us three; it would be all the better if we had another hand, though it's a pity too, when you can pick up natives for half nothing. Then we must have a cook. I can fix raw sailor-men, but there's no going to sea with a new-chum cook. I can lay hands on the man we want for that: a Highway boy, an old shipmate of mine, of the name of Amalu.

Maist sailor-men have the notion o' a farm," says he, "when they will be at sea. I am thinking it will come to that wi' me too, when my father is old and my mother." "Where is your place?" said I. "Are you from these parts?" for there was a look about him I kent, and yet could not be naming it. "Ronald McKinnon is my father," said he.

The storm Andrew had foreseen was by this time raging round the cottage, the Clustering waves making strange noises on the sands and falling on the rocks with a keen, lashing sound It affected them gradually; their hearts became troubled, and they spoke low and with sad inflections, for both were thinking of the sailor-men and fishermen peopling the lonely waters.

His foreboding was right, for in the early hours of the morning his wife, bending over him, saw a bright smile upon his tanned, weather-beaten face. Raising himself upon his pillow he touched his forelock, as is the habit of sailor-men, and so sank slowly and peacefully back into the long sleep which wakes when the night has ceased to be.

"The colour is not yellow enough for my liking. Is the boat ready?" "Ay." "Then let us be going whilst the breeze holds easterly." Ian Davey's lad came out of the boathouse with a pair of oars on his shoulders. He went down to a little fisher boat that rocked gently against the end of the wooden jetty. The two sailor-men followed him.

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