in the _Christ-Anna_, ye would ken by now the mercy o' the seas. If ye

had sailed it for as lang as me, ye would hate the thocht of it as I do.

If ye had but used the een God gave ye, ye would hae learned the

wickedness o' that fause, saut, cauld, bullering creature, and of a'

that's in it by the Lord's permission: labsters an' partans, an' sic

like, howking in the deid; muckle, gutsy, blawing whales; an' fish--the

hale clan o' them--cauld-wamed, blind-eed uncanny ferlies. O, sirs,' he

cried, 'the horror--the horror o' the sea!'

We were all somewhat staggered by this outburst; and the speaker himself,

after that last hoarse apostrophe, appeared to sink gloomily into his own

thoughts. But Rorie, who was greedy of superstitious lore, recalled him

to the subject by a question.

'You will not ever have seen a teevil of the sea?' he asked.

'No clearly,' replied the other. 'I misdoobt if a mere man could see ane

clearly and conteenue in the body. I hae sailed wi' a lad--they ca'd him

Sandy Gabart; he saw ane, shure eneueh, an' shure eneueh it was the end

of him. We were seeven days oot frae the Clyde--a sair wark we had

had--gaun north wi' seeds an' braws an' things for the Macleod. We had

got in ower near under the Cutchull'ns, an' had just gane about by soa,

an' were off on a lang tack, we thocht would maybe hauld as far's

Copnahow. I mind the nicht weel; a mune smoored wi' mist; a fine gaun

breeze upon the water, but no steedy; an'--what nane o' us likit to

hear--anither wund gurlin' owerheid, amang thae fearsome, auld stane

craigs o' the Cutchull'ns. Weel, Sandy was forrit wi' the jib sheet; we

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