Scotty


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Scot·ty

 (skŏt′ē)
n.
Variant of Scottie.
References in classic literature ?
So, one day, as I hoisted sail on my skiff, I met Scotty.
Would I take Scotty, the runaway sailor, to visit the harpooner, on the opium- smuggler Idler?
Here I sat, inside my first ship, a smuggler, accepted as a comrade by a harpooner and a runaway English sailor who said his name was Scotty.
The harpooner suggested the eminent desirableness of a drink, and Scotty searched his pockets for dimes and nickels.
The liquor mounted in the heads of all of us, and the talk of Scotty and the harpooner was upon running the Easting down, gales off the Horn and pamperos off the Plate, lower topsail breezes, southerly busters, North Pacific gales, and of smashed whaleboats in the Arctic ice.
The liquor worked its will with me; the talk of Scotty and the harpooner poured through the pent space of the Idler's cabin and through my brain like great gusts of wide, free wind; and in imagination I lived my years to come and rocked over the wild, mad, glorious world on multitudinous adventures.
Scotty wept over his poor old mother in Edinburgh--a lady, he insisted, gently born-- who was in reduced circumstances, who had pinched herself to pay the lump sum to the ship-owners for his apprenticeship, whose sacrificing dream had been to see him a merchantman officer and a gentleman, and who was heartbroken because he had deserted his ship in Australia and joined another as a common sailor before the mast.
Further, I--or John Barleycorn, for it was the same thing--told Scotty that he might be a deep-sea sailor and know the last rope on the great deep-sea ships, but that when it came to small-boat sailing I could beat him hands down and sail circles around him.
With reticence and modesty present, I could never have dared tell Scotty my small-boat estimate of him.
Scotty and I flared and raged like young cockerels, until the harpooner poured another round of drinks to enable us to forgive and make up.
By this time the singing stage was reached, and I joined Scotty and the harpooner in snatches of sea songs and chanties.
I had a splendid constitution, a stomach that would digest scrap-iron, and I was still running my marathon in full vigour when Scotty began to fail and fade.