to get every article he might require in great London, from a needle to an anchor.
Only, as he told his brother Conal, "It is far better to be sure than sorry."
Well, the last day-the last sad day-came round at last and farewells had to be said on both sides.
Mrs. M'Vayne kept up as well as she could, and so did the boys. Noblesse oblige, you know, for although their father was but a Highland laird, and poor at that, he was connected by blood with the chiefs of the best clans in Scotland.
Poor honest Viking had watched the packing with the very greatest of interest, and so sad did he appear that Duncan and Conal made up their minds to take him with them. And when they told him so, there really was not a much happier dog in all the British islands. For Viking was wise beyond compare, and there was very little, indeed, that he did not understand.
But Florie's grief at the loss of her brothers was beyond control, and she made no attempt to hide her tears.
Yes, the laird himself journeyed with his boys as far as Leith, and saw them safe on board.
When the good ship steamed away at last, he waved them a silent adieu, then turned and walked quickly away.
CHAPTER II. – HURRAH FOR "MERRIE ENGLAND"!
Neither Duncan nor Conal was a bad sailor, for, their father's estate being near the western sea, many a long summer's day they spent in open boats, and they sometimes went out with the herring-fishers and were heard of no more for clays.
But this was to be a voyage of more than ordinary rigours, for, as bad luck would have it, a gale of wind arose, with tremendous seas, soon after they passed Berwick.
The waves made a clean breach over the unfortunate ship, and at midnight, when the storm was at its worst, the boys were suddenly awakened by the strange rolling motion of the steamer, and they knew at once that some terrible accident had happened.
The engines had stopped, for the shaft was broken; and high over the roaring of the terrible wind they could hear the captain shouting:
"All hands on deck!"
"Hands make sail!"
It was but little sail she could carry, indeed, and that only fore-and-afters, jib and stay-sails.
The boys had a cabin all to themselves, and the companionship of honest Viking, the Newfoundland. The poor dog did not know what to make of his situation. If he thought at all, and no doubt dogs do think, he must have wondered why his masters should have forsaken their beautiful home, their wanderings over the hills still clad in crimson heather, or through the forests deep and dark, for a life like this; but to the lower animals the ways of mankind are inscrutable, just as those of a higher power are to us. We are gods to the pets we cherish, and they are content to believe in and trust us, never doubting that all is for the best. Alas! we ourselves hardly put the same trust in the good God who made us, and cares for us, as our innocent dogs do in those who own them.
"Well, Conal," said Duncan, "this is, indeed, a wild night. I wonder if we are going to Davie Jones's locker, as sailors call it?"
"I don't think so. The captain is a long-headed fellow. I guess he knows what he is up to."
"I shall light the candles anyhow. I don't like to lie awake in the dark. Do you?"
"Not much. If I was to be drowned I think I would like it to come off in good daylight."
After a scramble, during which he was pitched three times on the deck, once right on top of the dog, Duncan succeeded in lighting the candles.
These were hung in gimbals, so that the motion of the ship did not affect them.
It was more cheerful now; so, having little desire to go to sleep, knowing that the ship must really be in danger, they lay and talked to each other. Talked of home, of course, but more about the great and wondrous city of London, which, if God spared the ship, they soon should see.
Presently a bigger wave than any that had come before it struck the ship, and seemed to heel her over right on her beam-ends, so that Duncan almost tumbled out of his berth.
A deep silence followed, broken only by the rush of water into the boys' cabin.
Viking sprang right into Conal's berth, and crouched, shaking and quivering in terror, at his feet.
There was half a foot of water on the cabin deck.
The worst seemed to be over, however, for presently sail was got on her, and though the wind continued to rave and howl through the rigging, she was on a more even keel and much steadier.
Presently the captain himself had a peep into the lads' state-room.
He had a bronzed but cheerful face, and was clad in oil-skins from his sou'-wester hat to his boots.
"Not afraid, are you, boys? No? Well, that's right. We have broken down, and it will be many days before we get into London; but we'll manage all right, and I think the wind is just a little easier already."
"So we won't go to Davie Jones's to-night, will we, captain?"
"Not if I know it, lad. Now, my advice is this: go to sleep, and-er-well, there can be no harm if you say your prayers before you do drop off."
The boys took his advice, and were soon fast in the arms of Morpheus. So, too, was honest Viking. He was one of those dogs who know when they are well off, so he preferred remaining in Conal's bunk to descending to the wet deck again. To show his sympathy, he gave the boy one of his huge paws to hold, and so hand-in-hand they fell asleep.
The wind was still blowing when they sat down to breakfast with the captain and first mate, for there was not another passenger on board save themselves. The old saying, "The more the merrier", does not apply to coasting steamers in early winter. The fewer the easier-that is more truthful.
The gale was a gale no longer, but a steady breeze. The ship was given a good offing, for the wind blew from the north-east, and to be too close to a lee shore is at all times dangerous.
But how very snug and cosy the saloon looked, when they were all gathered around the brightly-burning stove that night.
The skipper could tell many a good story, and the first mate also could spin a yarn or two, for they had both been far away at sea in distant climes, and both hoped to get ocean-going ships again.
So there they sat and chatted-ship-master and man, with their tumblers of hot grog on the top of the stove-till six bells in the middle watch.
Then the boys and Viking retired.
"I say, Conal," said Duncan that evening, just before turning in, "I think I should like to be a sailor."
"Well," replied Conal, "I should like to visit far-away countries, where hardly anybody had ever been before, and try to make some money just to be able to help father in his difficulties."
"Poor father, yes. Well, young fellows have made money before now."
"Ay," said Conal, who was wise beyond his years; "but, brother, they had a nest-egg to begin with. Now, we have nothing."
"Nonsense, Conal; we have clear heads, we have a good education, and we have a pair of willing hands each. That makes a good outfit, Conal, and many
