72 
FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
up a' stannin', an' wha wad it be but Robson, whustling 
the Piper, an' lauching whiles. ' Guid-day to you, an' hoo 's 
a' wi' ye, matie/ quo' he, ' an' whaur did ye get the braw 
duds an' the gun ? Man, but ye 're braw ! I 'm thinkin' 
the folks in Carnoustie would weel like to see ye noo, ma 
bonnie laddie.' Eh, but I was fair dang dyght, and thocht 
there would be a grand splore ; but Tarn was ane of the 
richt sort, an' said he would put a' richt \w 5 the auld 
man. Sae we gaed ben an' had anither stoup o' the reid 
wine. Ay, certie, we did a' that 7 . . . 
Next day Willie was taken off the patrol duty, as being 
more suited to live on water, and w^as sent up the Seine 
in a flat, to send provisions into Paris in balloons. And 
at last he saw the Proosians, and plenty of them. He and 
his mates were lying in the flat fast to the bank amongst 
the rushes, when the ' Proosian came doon like cushats on 
the neips (pigeons on the turnips). They pulled bushes 
and reeds over the craft, and lay trembling till the enemy 
disappeared, when they went hastily down the river again. 
The most dramatic of the many incidents he had to relate 
of the war time was the fate of two German sailors. He told 
it simply, and with the light dramatic touch that only comes 
to men who have lived amongst events and scenes. A 
raconteur would become fashionable had he Willie's skill. 
A German barque had managed to get into Rochefort 
with provisions and ammunition. Having discharged the 
cargo, the men got loose about the town, contrary to 
orders, and two brothers in particular became riotous, and 
hectored it over the townsmen in the cafes. Finally, one 
cast his eye on a Frenchman's girl ; Frenchie objected, 
