The Vital Spark | Page 8

in the work of two men.

IV: WEE TEENY
THE last passenger steamer to sail that day from Ardrishaig was a trip
from Rothesay. It was Glasgow Fair Saturday, and Ardrishaig Quay

was black with people. There was a marvellously stimulating odour of
dulse, herring, and shell-fish, for everybody carried away in a
handkerchief a few samples of these marine products that are now the
only seaside souvenirs not made in Germany. The Vital Spark, in
ballast, Clydeward bound, lay inside the passenger steamer, ready to
start when the latter had got under weigh, and Para Handy and his mate
meanwhile sat on the fo'c'sle-head of "the smertest boat in the tred"
watching the frantic efforts of lady excursionists to get their husbands
on the steamer before it was too late, and the deliberate efforts of the
said husbands to slink away up the village again just for one more drink.
Wildly the steamer hooted from her siren, fiercely clanged her bell,
vociferously the Captain roared upon his bridge, people aboard yelled
eagerly to friends ashore to hurry up, and the people ashore as eagerly
demanded to know what all the hurry was about, and where the bleezes
was Wull. Women loudly defied the purser to let the ship go away
without their John, for he had paid his money for his ticket, and though
he was only a working man his money was as good as anybody else's;
and John, on the quay, with his hat thrust back on his head, his thumbs
in the armholes of his waistcoat and a red handkerchief full of dulse at
his feet, gave a display of step-dancing that was responsible for a great
deal of the congestion of traffic at the shore end of the gangway.
Among the crowd who had got on board was a woman with eleven
children. She was standing on the paddle-box counting them to make
sure--five attached to the basket that had contained their food for the
day, other four clinging to her gown, and one in her arms. "Yin, twa,
three, fower, and tower's eight, and twa's ten, and then there's Wee
Teeny wi' her faither doon the caibin." She was quite serene. If she
could have seen that the father--at that moment in the fore-saloon
singing
"In the guid auld summer time, In the guid auld summer time, She'll be
your tootsy-wootsy In the guid auld summer time."
had no Wee Teeny with him, she would have been distracted. As it was,
however, the steamer was miles on her way when a frantic woman with
ten crying children all in a row behind her, and a husband miraculously

sobered, made a vain appeal to the Captain to go back to Ardrishaig for
her lost child.
The child was discovered on the quay by the local police ten minutes
after the excursion steamer had started, and just when Para Handy was
about to cast off the pawls. She was somewhere about three years old,
and the only fact that could be extracted from her was that her name
was Teeny. There had probably not been a more contented and
self-possessed person on Ardrishaig Quay that day: she sucked her
thumb with an air of positive relish, smiled on the slightest provocation,
and showed the utmost willingness to go anywhere with anybody.
"The poor wee cratur!" said Para Handy sympathetically. "She minds
me fearfully of my brother Cherlie's twuns. I wudna wonder but she'a
twuns too; that would be the way the mistake would be made in leavin'
her; it's such a terrible thing drink. I'm no' goin' to ask you, Dougie, to
do anything you wudna like, but what would you be sayin' to us takin'
the wean wi' us and puttin' her ashore at Rothesay? Mind you, chust if
you like yoursel'."
"It's your own vessel, you're the skipper of her, and I'm sure and I have
no objections, at aal at aal," said Dougie quite heartily, and it was
speedily arranged with the police that a telegram should be sent to wait
the Captain of the excursion steamer at Rothesay, telling him the lost
child was following in the steam-lighter Vital Spark.
Macphail the engineer, and The Tar, kept the child in amusement with
pocket-knives, oil-cans, cotton-waste, and other maritime toys, while
the Captain and Dougie went hurriedly up the village for stores for the
unexpected passenger.
"You'll not need that mich," was Dougie's opinion; "she'll fall asleep as
soon as it's dark, and no' wake till we put her ashore at Rothesay."
"Ah, but you canna be sure o' them at that age," said the Captain. "My
brother Cherlie wass merrit on a low-country woman, and the twuns
used to sit up at night and greet in the two languages, Gaalic and
Gleska, till