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At this news there was some little consternation. The mate called aloud for John MacNicol; there was no answer. He ran to the other side of the steamer; nothing was visible on the smooth water. They searched everywhere, and the boat that had been lowered was pulled about, but the search was in vain. The woman’s story was the only explanation of this strange disappearance; but the sailors suspected more than they dared to suggest to the bewildered lads. They suspected that old MacNicol had dropped into the water just before the paddles had made their first backward revolution, and that in coming to the surface he had been struck by one of the floats. They said nothing of this, however; and as the search proved to be quite useless, the Glenara steamed slowly onward to the quay.

It was not until the next afternoon that they recovered the body of old MacNicol; and from certain appearances on the corpse, it was clear that he had been struck down by the paddles in his effort to reach and help his sons. That was a sad evening for Rob MacNicol. It was his first introduction to the cruel facts of life. And amid his sorrow for the loss of one who, in a sort of rough and reticent way, had been very kind and even affectionate to him, Rob was vaguely aware that on himself now rested the responsibility for the upbringing of his two brothers and his cousin. He sat up late that night, long after the others were asleep, thinking of what he should do. In the midst of this silence the door was quietly opened, and Daft Sandy came into the small room.

‘What do ye want at this time o’ night?’ said Rob angrily, for he had been startled.

The old, bent, half-witted man looked cautiously at the bed, in which Neil lay fast asleep.

‘Whisht, Rob, my man,’ he said in a whisper; ‘I waited till every one in Erisaig was asleep. Ay, ay! it’s a bad day this day for you. And what are ye going to do now, Rob? Ye’ll be taking to the fishing?’

‘Oh, ay; I’ll be taking to the fishing!’ said Rob bitterly, for he had been having his dreams also, and had turned from them with a sigh. ‘Of course I’ll be taking to the fishing! And maybe ye’ll tell me where I am to get 40 pounds to buy a boat, and where I am to get 30 pounds to buy nets? Maybe ye’ll tell me that, Sandy?’

‘The bank—-‘

‘What does the bank ken about me? They would as soon think of throwing the money into Loch Scrone.’

‘But ye ken, Rob, Coll Macdougall would give ye a share in his boat for 12 pounds.’

‘Twelve pounds! Man, ye’re just daft, Sandy. Where am I to get 12 pounds?’

‘Well, well, Rob,’ said the old man coming nearer, and speaking still more mysteriously, ‘listen to what I tell ye. Some day or other ye’ll be taking to the fishing; and when that day comes I will put something in your way. Ay, ay; the fishermen about Erisaig dinna know everything; come to me, Rob, my man, and I’ll tell ye something about the herring. Ye are a good lad, Rob; many’s the herring I’ve got from ye when I wouldna go near the shore for they mischievous bairns; and when once ye have a boat and nets o’ your own I will tell ye something. Daft Sandy is no so daft, maybe. Have ye ony tobacco, Rob?’

Rob said he had no tobacco; and making sure that Daft Sandy had come to him with a pack of nonsense merely as an excuse to borrow money for tobacco, he bundled him out of the house and went to bed.

Rob was anxious that his brothers and cousin, and himself, should present a respectable appearance at the funeral; and in these humble preparations nearly all their small savings were swallowed up. The funeral expenses were paid by the Steamboat Company. Then after the funeral, the few people who were present departed to their own homes, no doubt imagining that the MacNicol boys would be able to live as hitherto they had lived–that is, anyhow.