Moreover, Robbie thought, there was something very odd about the music itself, something very eerie and mysterious, for there was no tune to it – or nothing he could recognise as a tune, at least. It was just like voices sliding up and down a scale, in fact; high voices, echoing very sad and sweet in some hollow place, and in spite of the warmth of the bed, the sound they made was beginning to send shivers up and down his back.
Crouching lower into the warmth, Robbie tried not to hear the voices; but he was curious about them, as well as uneasy. Besides which, he told himself, Finn Learson had no right to be playing his Da’s fiddle, and he had a good mind to say so to his very face! This was the very thought to give his curiosity the spur it needed, and gaining courage from it, he slipped cautiously out of bed.
A draught of cold air blew around his bare legs. The floor of the ben room was cold too, for it was only beaten earth, hard-packed and polished from the use of many years. With his toes curling away from the feel of this floor, Robbie padded to the door of the ben room. For a moment he stood there, shivering as much from the cold now as from uneasiness. Then, carefully, he advanced a hand to the door knob.
The noise of Tam growling began to sound through the music; and instantly on this, it stopped. Tam’s growls grew louder, then began to die again; and tightening his grasp on the knob, Robbie pulled the door open far enough to allow him to see into the but end.
It was a roomful of strange shapes and shadows that met his eye, for the fire was still sending out a red glow that lit some things and left others in darkness. Even so, he saw that his father’s fiddle was gone from its usual place on the wall, and there was no form stretched out under the blanket on the restin’ chair. The fiddle now lay on top of this blanket, as if Finn Learson had hurriedly placed it there; and Finn Learson himself was kneeling on one knee in front of the fire, with Tam crouching in front of him.
The dog’s back was towards Robbie, but both dog and man were lit by the fire’s glow, and Robbie saw that Finn Learson had his hands cupped lightly around Tam’s head. His eyes were fixed on Tam’s eyes, and it seemed to Robbie that he was commanding Tam to silence with this stare.
It struck Robbie, too, that Tam was afraid of the look holding him there as well as fascinated by it, for the dog was shivering all over its body. Lower and lower it crouched, its eyes never leaving Finn Learson’s eyes, its growl fading with every second of the look; until finally, it was altogether silent.
Finn Learson drew his hands away from its head, and in that moment he looked up, straight into Robbie’s eyes. The firelight fell on his face, making a gleaming red mask of it in the surrounding dusk. His great dark eyes seemed bigger and darker than ever in that red mask, and the effect of all this sent a stab of fear through Robbie.
Everything he had meant to say fled from his mind then, and all he could think of was getting back to his safe, warm bed. Stepping backwards he began gently to close the door and as he did so, Finn Learson rose to his feet. Robbie’s heart quickened its beat still further, but he continued with his gentle closing of the door; and the last thing he saw in the last inch of its closing was Tam, still staring up in fascination at the man in front of him.
Quickly and silently then, Robbie dashed for his bed, and creeping into it, he lay wondering about everything that had happened. It was very late at night by this time, however, and he was still tired. Also, it was very cosy, lying there in the warmth beside Old Da. Robbie soon found he was too drowsy to think properly; and promising himself he would work out all the whys and wherefores of it in the morning, he drifted off to sleep again.
3. Gold …
The storm had not quite blown itself out by the time morning came, and the Hendersons woke to find that Old Da had been right in thinking the Bergen had foundered. There was plenty of wreckage from it, however, and this was already drawing people down from all the other houses on the hill overlooking the voe.
“Come on!” urged Janet, giving everyone breakfast on the run; but Robbie had something more than wreckage to think about at that moment, for strange events that happen in the middle of the night have a way of seeming as far off and unreal as a dream the next day, and this was how things were for him then.
He stared around the but end, wondering if he had indeed dreamt the events of the night before; for there was his father’s fiddle hanging in its usual place, and there was Tam dozing peacefully as usual in front of the fire. There was Finn Learson too, looking like any other young man supping porridge along with everyone else, and not giving a single hint or sign that he had ever moved from his night’s sleep on the restin’ chair.
Robbie swallowed down his own porridge, telling himself that he must have dreamt about the strange music and the look that had commanded Tam to silence. It was impossible to imagine otherwise, in fact, with everything now so much as usual and daylight making the but end itself seem such an ordinary place!
The need to make haste in starting the salvage work began to take a grip on him also, so that even the “dream” grew fainter in his mind. Then came something else which drove it still further away. A voice called from outside the house, the familiar and very cheerful voice of Elspeth’s young man, Nicol Anderson; and Nicol, as it happened, was also Robbie’s very good friend.
Robbie rushed to let him into the but end, and then the place seemed crowded, for Nicol was a big fellow – as big and powerful a man as Finn Learson, in fact. Moreover, he had gleaming red hair that gave him the look of a big, smiling sun when he laughed, and which also drew even more attention to his height.
“Who’s ready to come down to the voe, then?” he asked, after all the explanations about Finn Learson had been made; and instantly, Robbie was on his feet.
“I am!” said he. Then off he hurried to the voe with Nicol, firmly putting even the memory of his strange “dream” from his mind, and never thinking he was making the great mistake of his young life in doing so.
Robbie was in good company with this, however, for everyone in Black Ness made mistakes that morning; and naturally enough, these were the same ones that the Henderson family had already made about Finn Learson.
No one doubted for a moment that he was indeed a survivor of the wreck, and so there was nothing but sympathy for him. No one asked him any more questions than had already been asked – there was no time for this, since the wreckage was so widely scattered over the voe that everyone was anxious to get it ashore before it could drift even further. Moreover, Finn Learson immediately offered his help in this work; and since Nicol Anderson was the only man there who equalled him in size and strength, this offer was eagerly accepted.
So, for hours after that, the work went on, with Finn Learson bending his back so willingly to it that there was even greater sympathy for him when the tide eventually brought the bodies of the Bergen’s crew washing ashore.
Old Da Henderson was as good as his word, however, and the bodies were buried just above high-water mark at the point where they were found. A stone was placed to mark each grave, a hymn was sung, and Old Da spoke a prayer.
“Amen,” said everyone at the end of this. And that Amen was the final word on the wreck of the Bergen; for, the way they all saw it then, it was bad enough for a young fellow like Finn Learson to lose all his mates in one night without folk asking questions that would only remind him of this loss.
There was still the question of what he would do next, however; and so, after supper that night, Peter began, “And what are your plans now, lad? Are you thinking of going back to your own country?”
“No,” said Finn Learson, taking a sideways glance at the fiddle on the wall. “I’m in no hurry to do that.”
“Then what will you do?” Peter asked. “Will you take ship for another voyage?”
“Indeed, no!” Finn Learson told him. “It’s the land for me for a while.”
“And no one could blame you for that!” Peter agreed. “Which means you’ll be here for a few days yet, I suppose – and welcome, I�
��m sure, if you do not mind our sort of life.”
“Far from that,” Finn Learson assured him. “I think it must be a fine life! A few weeks of it, in fact – or even a few months – would be nearer what I have in mind.”
Now the Hendersons were hospitable people, but they were also much too poor to be burdened for months with a pair of idle hands and an idle mouth to feed. Yet where was Finn Learson to live if he stayed for months on the island, unless it was with them? None of them had the answer to this question, but Finn Learson guessed the meaning of their silence, and quickly he added, “But I would not expect to stay here for nothing, of course!” With his hand reaching into the pouch of his canvas moneybelt as he said this, he pulled out a coin and laid it on the table; but this only left the Hendersons even more lost for words, for the coin was a large one and it was made of gold.
It was also an old coin, so old that the pattern had been rubbed almost smooth; and as they stared in wonder at it, Finn Learson asked anxiously, “Is that not enough?”
“Enough!” Janet exclaimed. “It’s a fortune, man! But where in the world did you get so ancient a coin?”
“Off a sunken treasure ship!” guessed Robbie, thinking that this must certainly be the answer; but his father frowned, and told him, “You talk an awful lot of nonsense, boy.”
“I don’t know about that,” Old Da objected. “I remember, when I was a young man I saw a coin washed ashore from a Spanish treasure ship that was wrecked in ancient times on this island. A piece of eight, they called it, and it looked exactly like this one.”
“I don’t doubt you,” Peter remarked. “But you know what Robbie is like! He was letting his fancy run away with a whole shipload of treasure, instead of the odd piece a sailor man might pick up on his travels – which is where this one came from I’ll wager!”
Finn Learson smiled at this – the same, rather odd little smile Robbie had noticed the night before. “Yes, of course,” he agreed. “It is just something I picked up on my travels. And since I have no coins in my belt of the kind you use, it is all I can offer you.”
“But we cannot take it,” Janet declared, “for gold does not lose its value however old the coins that are made from it. And this one is worth more than it would cost to keep you, supposing you stayed for a year with us.”
Finn Learson began to speak again, but Peter checked him.
“Wait,” said he. “Let me tell you this. There is no money to be made from fishing in the voe, and none either from working a croft. And so, all the men like myself have to go off every summer to earn money at the deep-sea fishing – the haaf, as we call it. But before we can do that, there is all the spring work of the croft to be tackled – digging, planting, sowing, cutting peats–”
“I can see what’s in your mind!” Old Da interrupted, and then turned ruefully to Finn Learson. “I’m getting too old to share such hard work,” he went on, “and Robbie is still too young to give a man’s help on the croft. Yet there are only six weeks left now before Peter goes off to the haaf, and if he does not manage to get the crops in before then, how will we all eat next winter?”
“But if you were willing to help me with that work,” Peter finished, “it would be worth more to us than the cost of your stay here, and it would give you a real chance to try our kind of life. So, what do you say, Finn Learson?”
“I say ‘Done!’” Finn Learson exclaimed. “But you must still have the gold, for it may still cost you more than you think to have me here.”
“Nonsense!” Peter and Janet protested together, and Peter began sliding the coin across the table to Finn Learson. Yet still he would not allow this.
“If you will not take it in payment,” said he, “take it at least as a keepsake of me when I have gone back to my own country.”
Firmly he pushed the coin back across the table. Then, with a glance at Elspeth, he added, “There! When you look at that, you’ll remember it did not seem half so bright to me as the gold of your daughter’s hair.”
Elspeth blushed scarlet at this, but the others laughed at such a compliment.
“Would you not like Nicol to say fine things like that?” Robbie teased her; and Peter told Finn Learson, “Well, we can hardly refuse it on those terms!”
And so it was settled. Elspeth stood the coin on its edge like an ornament on the mantelpiece; and there it stayed, its smooth surface glittering in the light of the kollie. Janet made up a proper bed for Finn Learson in the barn that was built on to the gable wall of the but end; and he also stayed, to help Peter with all the work that had to be done before the haaf.
4. … and Dancing and Gold
The new arrangement, it seemed, was going to be a good one – and not just for Peter, either.
The whole family felt the benefit of it, for Robbie and Old Da had now more time each day to go fishing in the voe, and a good catch of fish meant more food for everyone. Also, they had more time to look after the livestock, and so there were fewer lambs and calves lost than in the year before that. Moreover, Finn Learson himself settled down so quickly that he was no trouble at all to anyone –- quite the opposite, in fact.
He worked hard, yet still he continued so polite and pleasant in his ways that both Janet and Elspeth were quite taken by his charm and declared he was a pleasure to have around. Peter was delighted to have such a strong and willing helper. Tam no longer barked or growled at him; so that, in no time at all it seemed, he was coming and going about the place as if he had always lived there.
“He’s a silent sort of man, though, isn’t he?” Old Da remarked one day to Janet. “A good listener, mark you – indeed, I’ve never seen a man for watching and listening so closely to everything that goes on. Yet he never has much to say on his own account.”
“That’s no great fault,” Janet exclaimed. “And one talker in the house is enough, surely?”
Old Da laughed. “Now you’re having a dig at me,” he teased Janet, for it was perfectly true that Old Da was a great talker; and although they were all glad enough of his stories around the fire in the winter time, Janet and Peter were inclined to complain that Robbie took all this kind of talk too seriously. “Letting his imagination run away with him,” they called it; which was a foolish habit, in their opinion, and therefore one which should be checked before it got too strong a grip on him.
This was not to the point at that moment, however, and so Janet simply ignored Old Da’s teasing. “Anyway,” she finished, “the main thing is that Finn Learson is settling here as to the manner born, and that should be enough for all of us.”
So the Hendersons went on talking from time to time among themselves about the new arrangement – all except Robbie, that is, for no one thought of asking his opinion. Moreover, he would not have known what to answer even if he had been asked, for Finn Learson was still given to smiling that odd little smile he had worn first on the night of the storm, and Robbie did not care for this.
It was like someone smiling at a secret joke, he thought, and felt uneasy at such an idea. On the other hand, there was no doubt that Finn Learson had a powerful charm of manner which made him want to like the man …
So Robbie swithered and swayed in the opinion that was never asked, and meanwhile, Finn Learson was getting acquainted with all the rest of the people in Black Ness. Very easy, he found this, too, for all that he was a man of few words, since there is nothing Shetlanders enjoy better than visiting back and forward in one another’s houses.
Sooner or later also, on such occasions, out will come the fiddle. All the young folk – and very often some of those that are not so young – will get up to have a dance; and the first evening that this was the way of things in the Hendersons’ house, Finn Learson showed the lightest, neatest foot in the whole company.
He was merry as a grig, too, clapping his hands in time to the fiddling, white teeth flashing all the time in a laugh, eyes glittering like two great dark fires in his handsome head. No amount of leaping and whirling seemed to ti
re him, either; and curiously looking on at this with Robbie and Janet, Old Da remarked, “Well, there’s one stranger that knows how to make himself at home on the islands!”
“Indeed, aye,” Janet agreed, admiring the light footwork that was going on. “A man who can dance like that is sure of a welcome in Black Ness.”
And so it turned out, of course, for a good dancer is always a challenge to the skill of a good fiddler. Moreover, a handsome young man who is neat and light on his feet is a catch for any girl; and the result of all this was that Finn Learson soon found himself welcome anywhere the young folk were trying to stir things up for a bit of a dance.
No one minded, either, that he had so little to say for himself. He was a foreigner, after all, they excused him; and he could hardly be expected to chatter in a tongue that was strange to him. Occasionally too, when it struck someone that there was a certain oddness in the intent way he listened and watched in other folks’ company, this was also put down to the fact that he was a stranger to the islands, and therefore curious about life there.
There was one person in Black Ness, however, who was not too pleased to see him staying on with the Hendersons, and that was Elspeth’s young man, Nicol Anderson. This was just natural jealousy on his part, of course, Finn Learson being so handsome and Elspeth so young and bonny. But after all, as Peter took care to point out to Nicol, it was only until the spring work was finished; and once that was the case, there was no doubt Finn Learson would return to his own country.
About a week before the start of the haaf season, however, Peter found himself thinking differently, for it was then that one of his boat’s crew fell sick. There was not a man in Black Ness to replace him, either; and so, after thinking all around the subject, Peter said to Finn Learson, “It’s like this, you see. It’s a boat called a ‘sixareen’ we use at the haaf, because it takes six men to row it. Yet here I am now, one short of my crew; and even with strong young fellows like Nicol Anderson among them, a sixareen is a heavy craft to pull, And so I’m in trouble, unless – Unless, maybe, you would be willing to make up my crew for me.”
A Stranger Came Ashore Page 2