A Daughter of Fife | Page 2

beach of Pittenloch. There was an ominous wail in the
sea, telling of the fierce tide yet to come; and all around her whirling
wraiths of vapor sweeping across the level sands. From a little distance,
she appeared like a woman standing amid gray clouds--a sombre, solid,
figure; whose attitude was one of grave thoughtfulness. Approaching
nearer, it was evident that her gaze was fixed upon a fishing boat which
had been drawn high upon the shingle; and from which a party of
heavy-footed fishermen were slowly retreating.
She was a beautiful woman; tall, supple, erect; with a positive splendor
of health and color. Her dress was that of the Fife fisher-girl; a blue
flannel jacket, a very short white and yellow petticoat, and a white cap
drawn over her hair, and tied down with a lilac kerchief knotted under
the chin. This kerchief outlined the superb oval of her face; and made
more remarkable the large gray eyes, the red curved mouth, and the
wide white brow. She was barefooted, and she tapped one foot
restlessly upon the wet sands, to relieve, by physical motion, her mental
tension and sorrow.
It was Maggie Promoter, and the boat which had just been so solemnly
"beached" had been her father's. It was a good boat, strong in every

timber, an old world Buckie skiff, notorious for fending in foundering
seas; but it had failed Promoter in the last storm, and three days after he
and his sons had gone to the bottom had been found floating in Largo
Bay.
If it had been a conscious criminal, a boat which had wilfully and
carelessly sacrificed life, it could hardly have been touched with more
dislike; and in accordance with the ancient law of the Buchan and Fife
fishers, it was "put from the sea." Never again might it toss on the salt
free waves, and be trusted with fishermen's lives. Silently it was drawn
high up on the desolate shingle, and left to its long and shameful decay.
Maggie had watched the ceremony from a little distance; but when the
fishers had disappeared in the gathering mist, she slowly approached
the boat. There it lay, upside down, black and lonely, far beyond the
highest mark of any pitying tide. She fancied that the insensate timber
had a look of shame and suffering, and she spoke to it, as if it had a
soul to comprehend her:--
"Lizzie! Lizzie! What cam' o'er you no to bide right side up? Four gude
men to your keeping, Lizzie, and you lost them a'. Think shame o'
yersel', think shame o' yersel', for the sorrow you hae brought! You'll
be a heart grief to me as long as you lie there; for I named you mysel',
little thinking o' what would come o' it."
For a few minutes she stood looking at the condemned and unfortunate
boat in silence; then she turned and began to walk rapidly toward the
nearest cluster of cottages. The sea fog was rolling in thick, with the
tide, and the air was cold and keen. A voice called her through it, and
she answered the long-drawn "Maggie" with three cheerful words, "I'm
coming, Davie." Very soon Davie loomed through the fog, and
throwing a plaid about her, said, "What for did you go near the boat,
Maggie? When you ken where ill luck is, you should keep far from it."
"A better looking or a bonnier boat I ne'er saw, Davie."
"It's wi' boats, as it is wi' men and women; some for destruction, some
for salvation. The Powers above hae the ordering o' it, and it's a' right,

Maggie."
"That's what folks say. I'm dooting it mysel'. It's our ain fault some way.
Noo there would be a false plumb in yonder boat, though we didna ken
it."
"Weel, weel, she failed in what was expected o' her, and she's got her
deserts. We must tak' care o' our ain job. But I hae news for you, and if
you'll mak' a cup o' tea, and toast a Finnin haddie, we'll talk it o'er."
The Promoter cottage was in a bend of the hills, but so near the sea that
the full tide broke almost at its door, and then drew the tinkling pebbles
down the beach after it. It was a low stone dwelling, white-washed, and
heather-roofed, and containing only three rooms. David and Maggie
entered the principal one together. Its deal furniture was spotless, its
floor cleanly sanded, and a bright turf fire was burning on the brick
hearth. Some oars and creels were hung against the wall, and on a pile
of nets in the warmest corner, a little laddie belonging to a neighbor's
household was fast asleep.
Maggie quickly threw on more turf, and drew the crane above