Barely had they sailed three leagues when the sky darkened, the wind blew loudly, and the sea grew boisterous. Soon they were in the midst of a terrible storm. The anger of the sea was far more dreadful than the anger of the lords of Norway. The anchors broke away, the topmasts snapped, and the waves came over the broken ship, tearing her sides asunder. "O where shall I get a good sailor to take the helm while I climb the tall topmast to see if I can espy land?" "That I fear ye never will," cried a sailor as he took the helm, and scarcely had Sir Patrick gone a step when a plank started in the ship’s side and the water came pouring in. "Fetch a web of silken cloth, and fetch a web of twine," cried Sir Patrick, "and cast them down to our ship’s side!" For it was the custom in those days, when a leak could not be reached from inside the vessel, to cast down some closely woven stuff in the hope that the suction of the water would drag it across the leak and stop thus the fatal inrush of water. Alas! all their efforts failed. Then the ballad-writer says somewhat grimly of the dandies among the Scottish lords that whereas at first they grumbled to see the water spoil their fine cork-heeled shoes, when the storm had done its fatal work the sea was "above their hats"! "And many was the feather bed That fluttered on the foam; And many was the gude lord’s son That never mair came home! The ladyes wrang their fingers white; The maidens tore their hair, A’ for the sake of their true loves; For them they’ll see nae mair. O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, Wi’ their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand! And lang, lang may the maidens sit, With their goud kaims[#] in their hair, A’ waiting for their ain dear loves! For them they’ll see nae mair. [#] Golden combs. O forty miles off Aberdeen, ’Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet." *Chapter V* *Auld Maitland* "’Wha holds this house?’ young Edward cried, ’Or wha gives it o’er to me?’ ’’Tis I will keep my good old house, While my house will keep me!’" The story of Auld Maitland is said to be taken from a very old ballad, and known chiefly to the people who lived in the neighbourhood of Ettrick Forest. The old folks there would while away the long winter evenings by singing of the deeds of their ancestors, and the ballad of _Auld Maitland_, as thus chanted, was written down by the mother of James Hogg, the "Ettrick Shepherd."