In this field were kept a cow and two
goats, to supply the two families with milk and butter. Beyond it was
the rocky shore, and a little pier built out into the sea.
[Illustration: THE LANDING STAGE]
On this pier I used to stand every Monday morning, to watch for the
steamer which called at the island once a week. It was a great event to
us when the steamer came. My grandfather and I, and Mr. and Mrs. Millar
and the children, all came down to the shore to welcome it. This steamer
brought our provisions for the week, from a town some miles off, and
often brought a letter for Mr. Millar, or a newspaper for my
grandfather.
My grandfather did not get many letters, for there were not many people
that he knew. He had lived on that lonely island the greater part of his
life, and had been quite shut out from the world. All his relations were
dead now, except my father, and what had become of him we did not know.
I had never seen him, for he went away some time before I was born.
My father was a sailor, a fine, tall, strong young fellow, my
grandfather used to say. He had brought my mother to the island, and
left her in my grandfather's care whilst he went on a voyage to
Australia. He went from the island in that same little steamer which
called every Monday morning.
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