Things were much in this state when the frost broke, and milder
weather succeeded. This was the time so long looked forward
to by the invalid and her friends, as favouring the doctor's
recommendation of change of air. Her husband was to take her to
spend a fortnight with a kindly neighbour, who lived near the farm
they had occupied, forty miles or so inland, before they came to
Haytersbank. The widow-woman was to come and stay in the house, to
keep Sylvia company, during her mother's absence. Daniel, indeed,
was to return home after conveying his wife to her destination; but
there was so much to be done on the land at this time of the year,
that Sylvia would have been alone all day had it not been for the
arrangement just mentioned.
There was active stirring in Monkshaven harbour as well as on shore.
The whalers were finishing their fittings-out for the Greenland
seas. It was a 'close' season, that is to say, there would be
difficulty in passing the barrier of ice which lay between the ships
and the whaling-grounds; and yet these must be reached before June,
or the year's expedition would be of little avail. Every
blacksmith's shop rung with the rhythmical clang of busy hammers,
beating out old iron, such as horseshoes, nails or stubs, into the
great harpoons; the quays were thronged with busy and important
sailors, rushing hither and thither, conscious of the demand in
which they were held at this season of the year. It was war time,
too. Many captains unable to procure men in Monkshaven would have to
complete their crews in the Shetlands. The shops in the town were
equally busy; stores had to be purchased by the whaling-masters,
warm clothing of all sorts to be provided. These were the larger
wholesale orders; but many a man, and woman, too, brought out their
small hoards to purchase extra comforts, or precious keepsakes for
some beloved one. It was the time of the great half-yearly traffic
of the place; another impetus was given to business when the whalers
returned in the autumn, and the men were flush of money, and full of
delight at once more seeing their homes and their friends.
There was much to be done in Fosters' shop, and later hours were
kept than usual. Some perplexity or other was occupying John and
Jeremiah Foster; their minds were not so much on the alert as usual,
being engaged on some weighty matter of which they had as yet spoken
to no one. But it thus happened that they did not give the prompt
assistance they were accustomed to render at such times; and Coulson
had been away on some of the new expeditions devolving on him and
Philip as future partners. One evening after the shop was closed,
while they were examining the goods, and comparing the sales with
the entries in the day-book, Coulson suddenly inquired-'By the way, Hester, does thee know where the parcel of best
bandanas is gone? There was four left, as I'm pretty sure, when I
set off to Sandsend; and to-day Mark Alderson came in, and would
fain have had one, and I could find none nowhere.' 'I sold t' last to-day, to yon sailor, the specksioneer, who fought
the press-gang same time as poor Darley were killed. He took it, and
three yards of yon pink ribbon wi' t' black and yellow crosses on
it, as Philip could never abide. Philip has got 'em i' t' book, if
he'll only look.' 'Is he here again?' said Philip; 'I didn't see him. What brings him
here, where he's noan wanted?' 'T' shop were throng wi' folk,' said Hester, 'and he knew his own
mind about the handkercher, and didn't tarry long. Just as he was
leaving, his eye caught on t' ribbon, and he came back for it. It
were when yo' were serving Mary Darby and there was a vast o' folk
about yo'.' 'I wish I'd seen him,' said Coulson. 'I'd ha' gi'en him a word and a
look he'd not ha' forgotten in a hurry.' 'Why, what's up?' said Philip, surprised at William's unusual
manner, and, at the same time, rather gratified to find a reflection
of his own feelings about Kinraid. Coulson's face was pale with
anger, but for a moment or two he seemed uncertain whether he would
reply or not.