Sasa Mannik stood up from his labours and his narrowed eyes gazed contemplatively out over the racing waters. He, like his employer, saw none of the natural terrors with which their high-perched home was surrounded. Ivor McLagan had no business with the hauntings and dread which Nature strives to inspire in her harsher moments. His was the hard, practical, hungry mind of one of the earth’s seekers. His only care was for the lure of the business which was his. His home had been pitched in the heart of this natural wilderness, that, in his brief moments of rest from the labours of his enterprise farther up the river, he might look out on the wide-open sea. Whatever the storms that howled about his staunch homestead there were always hope, and health, and sunlight in the breath of the restless ocean.
Sasa was quite without any concern in the matter of where his existence was set, provided the sea was within his reach. If his boss chose to live like some foolish sea-fowl, perched on the summit of barren cliffs, that was his affair. For himself he would undoubtedly have chosen some sheltered bluff on the river where the worst storm would be powerless to fan the flame of his camp-fire. But then he was not a white man and foolish. So he contented himself with things as they were, and fished, and traded his catch at his leisure, and carefully pouched the money he so earned. And meanwhile he ate and drank well at his boss’s expense, and fulfilled as much of his side of the contract between them as suited him.
The man’s eyes looked to be almost tight shut as he searched the swirl of waters sweeping by, and the cloud-flecked sky above them. All his experience was in full play at the back of his mind. It was a fresh spring day, and the waters were smiling as much as they ever permitted themselves to smile, and the restless gulls were winging in every direction accompanying their efforts with mournful cries of joy. A light breeze was coming out of the northwest.
In Sasa’s mind the indications were not all that he might have desired. The northwest wind was always something that could leap suddenly into a howling gale. But then, on the other hand, it was good for the salmon shoals, which at no time of the year he had any scruple about attacking. Yes. On the whole the day was too good to miss. Besides, the risk of a sudden gale added spice to his labours. His boat was stout. It was ready. So was his gear. Then, too, there were many shelters on that broken coast he knew of in case of need.