Ilatsiak - 8

Once in Stromness, orders were given to dine with Sir John at 9.00 in the evening. David and the cook’s steward were busy all day getting ready. At the same time, the wind began rising along with the bread. By 8.00 the action of the ship in the seaway was so violent that extra anchors were set and the formal dinner called off. The next day, as the seas had died down somewhat, Lt. Fairholme and a few others decided to try going ashore and walking across to Kirkwell to see the old Medieval church there, As David was a native, he was invited to come along and show them the way. Fairholme’s father had told him that the visit to the old church would be well worthwhile and so they all set out. Getting ashore was not as hard as they had feared and except for getting a little wet, they soon reached the docks at Logan’s Well where so many ships were outfitted for the Arctic and elsewhere. The three-quarters of a mile to the end of the town was a narrow one of well-worn flag-stones, grey buildings and not much else. Cheerily, they all set out. The land quickly became steep to and before an hour’s walk was up they began joking about hiring the first cart they came across to take them the remaining distance. Several times, the officers commented on how barren and uninteresting the country was, but David could not see the barrenness. Rather, it was home to him and he could see that while it was different from southern England where most of the officers originated, it was also an intriguing place, full of mysterious ruins and ancient tombs and definitely well worth exploring even by a native to the islands like himself.
When nearly within sight of Kirkwell a horse-drawn cart came into view. Fairfolm pounced on it’s owner and promised him all sorts of things if only he would turn about for Kirkwell. Of course as the chance to separate some fancy English gentlemen from their money was always a pleasant duty, he quickly agreed to carry them into the first tavern in Kirkwell and afterwards to return the party the the ship once they had eaten and seen the old church.
There were no end of complaints over the rough fare at the tavern, although all agreed the ale was excellent. The large bulk of red stone which composed the church itself was truely a wonder and David was pleased the officers agreed it was a beauty, especially having been built in such a wild, far-off place. There only sour comment was regarding the head stones, blackened with age to the point of being hardly legible in the graveyard beside the church. Oh, how horrid, to be buried without a decent marker one of them moaned. What a nasty end, indeed. People should be more respectful of the dead.
On the way back to Stromness, it occurred to them that they never did visit the interior of the church, nor the palace of the Bishop, the intended objects of the visit in the first place! Laying on his bunk once aboard the Erebus, David thought about the officers. They seemed to be so out of shape for men he thought of as his superiors. He could easily have made it to Kirkwell and back and run all the way!