brought up as he had been, so far away in the lonesome wilds of the Scottish Highlands, and having few companions save his brother and parents, it is but little wonder that he dearly loved his father and mother. To tell the whole truth, the affection felt by Scottish boys towards their parents is very real and sincere indeed. It is a love that most assuredly passes the knowledge of southerners, and in saying so I am most sincere.
Well, neither he, Duncan, nor Conal either could help knowing that of late years circumstances connected with the estate of Glenvoie had become rather straitened, and although obliged to keep up a good show, as I may term it, his father was far indeed from being wealthy at the present time. The estate was not a large one certainly, but it would have been big enough to live well upon, had the shootings let as well as they did long ago.
Is it any wonder that talking together about their future, as they frequently did before going to sleep, Duncan and Conal used often to ask each other the question, "How best can we be of some use to Daddy?" And it was indeed a difficult one to answer.
Both lads had already all the "schooling" they needed to enable them to make a sturdy fight with or against the world, but the idea of going as clerks or shopmen to a city like Glasgow or even Edinburgh was utterly repulsive to their feelings.
They were sons of a proud Highland chief, although a poor one. Alas! how often poverty and pride are to be seen, arm in arm, in bonnie Scotland. But anyhow, they were M'Vaynes. Besides, the wild country in which they had spent most of their lives until now, had imbued them with romance.
Is that to be wondered at? Did not romance dwell everywhere around them? Did they not breathe it in the very air that blew from off the mountains, and over the heathery moorlands? Did it not live in the dark waving pine forests, and in the very cliffs that overhung the leaden lakes, cliffs whereon the eagle had his eyry? Was it not heard in the roar of the cataract, and seen in the foaming rapids of streams that chafed its every boulder obstructing their passage to yonder ocean wild and wide? Yes, and Duncan was proud of that romance, and proud too, with a pride that is unknown in England of the grand story of his never-conquered country.
And so we cannot be astonished to find the three lads sitting together, in solemn conclave, on a bright summer's forenoon, far away on a green brae that overlooked Glenvoie.
Indeed, they had come here seriously to discuss their future.
Viking was lying close to Duncan with his great loving lump of a head on the boy's lap.
"You see," Duncan was saying, "it is precious hard for lads like us, who haven't any money to get a kind of a start in the world. If we could only get a beginning, I feel certain we should need no more. But our father is poor, Frank!"
"Heigho!" sighed Frank, "and so, alas! is mine."
"I know," continued Duncan, "that he would scrape the needful together somehow if we asked him. He could not sell any portion of the estate, because it is entailed, but I know that father would try hard to raise enough money to send Conal and me to sea as apprentices."
"And you really think you'll go to sea?" said Frank.
"As certain as sunrise, Frank. Mind I don't expect to find things quite so rosy as books paint them, but to sea I go for all that, and so will Conal."
"And so will I," cried Frank determinedly. "For my father is poorer far than yours. But I won't go before the mast, as I think you mean to."
"No?"
"No! because I have an uncle who has already promised to give me a little lift in life, and I haven't got so much Highland pride as you, so I'll ask him to apprentice me.
"I wonder," he added, "if dear old Captain Talbot would have me?"
"Oh," cried Duncan, "I had entirely forgotten. I have a letter from Talbot. He has given up the coasting trade, and is now in the Mediterranean, sailing betwixt London and Italy, a merchant ship, and I'm sure he will be glad to take you. He'll be back at the port of London in September. Why, Frank, old man, you're in luck.
"And as for Conal and I, we shall go before the mast."
"I'm sorry for you, boys."
"But you needn't be. Not the slightest wee bit. Many an officer in the merchant service, ay, and in the Royal Navy as well, has entered through the hawsehole."
"That means risen from the ranks, doesn't it?"
"Something very like it."
"Well," said Conal, "is it all arranged?"
"I think so," replied Duncan. "And the sooner we set about putting our resolves into force the better, I think."
Then he sighed as he bent down and gave poor Vike's honest head a good hug, and I'm not sure there wasn't a tear in his eye as he said:
"Poor Vike! your master is going away where he can't take you. But you'll be good, won't you, till we come back again, and look well after your little mistress, Flora. I know you will, doggie."
If ever grief was depicted in a dog's looks, and we know it often is, you might have seen it in Viking's now. I do not mean to say that he knew all his master said. He was too young for that, but he could tell from the mere intonation of Duncan's voice that grief was in store for all.
Chief M'Vayne was much averse at first to his sons becoming mere boys before the mast, but Duncan and Conal were determined, and so he came round at last and gave his consent.
I am going to say just as little as I can about the parting. Partings are painful to write about.
Not only the boys but M'Vayne himself were heroic. It does not do for clansmen to show weakness, but the mother's tears fell thick and fast, and poor Flora was to be pitied.
It was the first cloud of sorrow that had fallen upon her young life, and she felt desolate in the extreme. She believed she would never survive it. She would have no pleasure or joy now in wandering over the hills and through the forests dark and wild.
"I will pray for you both." These were about the last words she said.
"And for me too, Florie," said Frank sadly.
"Oh, yes, and for you."
Then he kissed her.
For the first time-wondering to himself, if it would be the last.
He had gotten a pretty little ring for her, with blue stones and an anchor on it. And of this she was very proud.
"Mind," he said, "you're a sailor's sweetheart now."
Then they mounted the trap that was to drive them to the nearest station, and away they went, waving hands and handkerchiefs, of course, until a bend in the road and a few pine-trees shut the dear old home from their view.
BOOK II. THE CRUISE OF THE FLORA M'VAYNE
CHAPTER I. – THE TERRORS OF THE OCEAN
Long months have passed away since that sad parting at Glenvoie; a parting that seemed to raise our young heroes at once from the careless happiness of boyhood to the serious earnestness of man's estate.
They had stayed in town until Captain Talbot arrived. He was just the same brave and jolly sailor that Duncan had first known.
