The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney Islands — John Shaqi
The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney IslandsLeighton, Robert
General
The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney Islands
Leighton, Robert
Orkney (Scotland) -- Fiction
"'Deed you'll do nothing of the kind," objected Kinlay. "What for
should Hercus take all?"
"Well, well," I said, somewhat ruffled, I admit, at Tom's greed,
"you needn't be so sulky. Take you and divide the things. You'll
not do it any fairer."
But Tom saw a way of sharing the things which suited himself, if it
did not quite agree with my own views of fairness. To Willie he
gave the brooch, to Robbie he passed the pile of fragments; and now
he held the two remaining pieces, the ingot of silver and the
little black stone. We awaited with much interest his final
decision. With an unpleasant flash of his dark eyes he cast the
stone to my end of the rude table, and quietly thrust the bar of
silver with his other possessions into his capacious pockets.
I tried hard to check the words that rose to my lips. Throughout
the afternoon I had noticed Tom's pointed objections to many things
I had done or had proposed to do. He had objected to Thora
accompanying us on the sealing expedition. He had disagreed with
the disposal of the dead hen harrier; other little incidents, most
of which had testified to his deep-rooted selfishness, I had not
failed to notice. More than all, I remembered how he had pocketed
the jewelled fragments of the helmet, and kept the knowledge of
their value from us all. As for the opinions of the other two lads
regarding him, it was Willie Hercus who had called him a "sneak" in
school that morning, and Robbie Rosson, I knew, had certainly no
love for Tom, who had persistently bullied him.
"Well, are you not satisfied?" said Kinlay, seeing my undisguised
indignation.
"Yes, with my own share," I replied. "But if you'd taken the
smaller piece of siller for yourself, and given Willie Hercus yon
piece you've taken, I'd have thought you more honourable."
And then I roundly accused him of having stolen the fragments of
the helmet.
"You have stolen the things," I said. "You saw that they were of
more worth than the rest, and you were afraid that we would want a
share of them."
"You're a liar!" he exclaimed angrily.
"And you're a thief!" I retorted; and I walked round to him,
determined, if necessary, to defend my accusation in a more
practical way than by empty words.
Now, I am confident that Kinlay was almost eager for such a chance
as this to pay back many debts which his own jealousy had from time
to time conjured up against me. For, apart from the fact that I
happened to be a little more brilliant than he in our class at
school, there were not wanting indications that he was in other
ways losing ground in our common race, and circumstances seemed to
require that we should each make a final effort now for the upper
hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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