see again.'"
"'Deed, indeed," said Rory, in his richest brogue, and with a moisturein his eye, "it is very pretty, and would be romantic entirely if thefrizzle, _frizzle, frizzle_ of that Saxon's frying-pan wouldn't join inthe chorus."
"Ham and eggs, boys; ham and eggs?" cried Ralph. "Away withmelancholy."
Not far from Duntulm Castle was a house, of which our friends bore thekindliest of recollections, for here they had been most hospitablyentertained.
"I wonder," said Ralph and Rory, almost in the same breath, "if they'llsee us and know us."
"Fire your gun again, anyhow, Rory," said McBain.
The gun was run in, loaded and fired, and they had the satisfaction ofseeing their friends in the garden waving welcome to them with aHighland plaid. Then the ensign was dipped, the headsails hauled toleeward again, and away they went.
But see, it is getting wonderfully dark ahead, and a misty cloud seemsrapidly nearing them, with a long white line right under it.
"Stand by the jib-sheet," cried McBain. "Ease away; now luff, my lady."
The cutter was laid nearly lee-rail under, but she bore it wonderfullywell. Then sail was taken in, for, said McBain, "We'll have more ofthese gentry." And so they had, and it was more than an hour ere theydoubled Ru-Hunish Point, and bore away for the Aird. Once round herethe danger was over, and they were no longer on a lee shore.
I myself never could see the good of a squall, either white or black,and either of them are dangerous enough in all conscience when they takeyou unawares, but it is said there is good in all things. Be this as itmay, the squalls the cutter had gone through seemed to clear the summerair in a remarkable manner, for even the glass began to rise, and withit the spirits of those on board.
It was a fair wind now all the way to Portree, and they made the best ofit, Rory being once more in his favourite seat with tiller in hand.Past that mysterious mountain called Quiraing, onwards and past thetartan rock, over the precipitous sides of which a cataract was pouringinto the sea, so that you might have sailed a boat between the water andthe cliff; past the bay of Steinscholl, past the point of Braddan, pastthe strange weird rocks of Storr, with Rona Isle and Raasay on theweather beam, and the wild white hills of Cuchullin in full view in thefar distance, and past Prince Charlie's cave itself, and now they keepher in more towards the shore, for they are not far from the loch ofPortree. Just past the cave they sail through a fleet of fishing boats.The men on board seem greatly excited. They have hauled in their oars,and stand by with great stones in their hands--part of the boat'sballast--as if watching for a coming foe. But where is this foe? Why,look ahead, the whole sea for half a mile is darkened with an immenseshoal of porpoises, driving straight towards the cutter and the boats,turning neither to right nor left, leaping from the water, splashing anddashing, and apparently wild with glee. Small respect have these "seapigs," as they are termed in the native language, for the poorfishermen's nets; if the nets happen to come in their way, through theygo, and there is an end of it. How the men shout and scream, to besure! The bottle-noses take not the slightest heed of them; they are intheir own element, so on they come and on they go, the wild shouts ofthe fishermen are nothing to them, and the stones thrown glideharmlessly off their greasy backs; but they are gone at last, gone likea whirlwind, and the boatmen are left lamenting over their bad luck andtheir broken nets.
Three hours after this the storm came on in earnest, but the littleyacht lay snug at her moorings, and her owners were sipping their coffeeafter a good dinner in peace.
It was quite late that night before they retired. It mattered little inone way at what time they turned in, for there was small likelihood thatthe storm now raging across the island would abate before twelve hoursat least. And what do you think they talked about? Why, the sea, thesea, and nothing but the sea, and wild adventures here and there in manylands. Again and again they plied McBain with questions about thatstrange country up in the frozen north, where it was said the mammothcaves lay. And McBain told them all he knew, and all he had ever heardconcerning them. It was determined that northwards they should sail andnowhere else.
"What shall we call our coming queen?" said Rory. "What shall we namethe yacht?"
"Oh! wait till we see her first," said Allan.
"Ridiculous!" cried the impetuous Rory. "No, let us call her the_Snowbird_."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
ROLLING HOME--A ROUGH PASSAGE--THE WELCOME BACK--THE WAY A SAILORSLEEPS.
When the royal eagle, the bird of Jove, paid a visit to the Castle ofArrandoon, and dropped so daringly into the poultry yard, intent only onturkey, it will be remembered that his presence created no littlecommotion, but I question if the din of even that memorable morningequalled the hubbub that arose when Allan and his friends returned fromtheir four months' cruise in the cutter.
A letter from Oban had reached Mrs McGregor three days beforehand, sothat they were quite expected, and even the probable hour of theirarrival in the creek in Glentroom was known.
The voyage from Portree to Oban had been an uneventful one. The windwas favourable all the way, but strong enough to make a glorious passagewith a close-reefed mainsail and storm-jib, so they bowled along,impatient now to get back to bonnie Arrandoon. But they did not mindthe roughness of the passage; they did not mind the tumbling and thetossing they got; they despised even the danger of being pooped. Theymade heavy weather just off Ardnamurchan Point. McBain stuck to thetiller, and for a whole hour, or more, perhaps, there was not a wordspoken by any one. They are fearful cliffs, those around the wildhighlands of Ardnamurchan, black and wet and fearful; the largest shipthat ever floated would be dashed to pieces in a few minutes if it hadthe misfortune to run amongst them. Perhaps our heroes were thinkinghow little chance their cockle-shell of a cutter would have, if she gotcarried where near them, but they kept their thoughts to themselves, andmeanwhile the yacht was behaving like the beauty she was. Indeed sheseemed positively to enjoy rolling homewards over these great, green,foam-crested seas; for she bobbed and she bowed to the waves; shecurtseyed to them and she coquetted with them as if she were indeed anymph of the sea and a flirt as well. Sometimes she would dip herbowsprit into a wave, as if she meant to go down bows first, but in amoment she had lifted her head again, and tossed the water saucily off,ere ever it had time to reach the well; next she would flood thelee-rail, and make the waves believe they could board her there, thenrighting again in an instant, after a nod or two to the seas ahead, asmuch as to say, "Please to observe what I shall do now," she would sinkherself right down by the stern, with the foam surging around her like aboiling cauldron, but never admitted a drop. There were times though,when she sank so far down in the trough of the sea that her sails beganto shiver, yet for all that she was uphill again in a second or two, andscudding onwards as merrily as ever.
The seas were shorter in Loch Sunart, they were choppy in the Sound ofMull, and seemed to get bigger and rougher every other mile of thejourney; the crew were not sorry, therefore, when the anchor was let go,and the mainsail clewed, in the Bay of Oban.
"_Why_," said Ralph, after dinner that day, "we haven't had such atossing all the cruise. I declare to you, boys, that every bone of mybody aches from top to toe." McBain laughed.
"You ought to go out," he said, "for a few nights with the herringboats."
"Is it rougher," queried Ralph, "than what we have already gonethrough?"
"Ten times," replied McBain.
"Then, if you please," said Ralph, "don't send me. I'd rather beexcused, Captain McBain, I do assure you."
"And so our summer cruise is ended," said Allan, with something verylike a sigh.
"And haven't we enjoyed it too!" said Rory, who was lying on the sofalocker, book in hand. "Troth, boys," he added, "I didn't notice, tillthis very minute, that my book was upside down. It is dreaming I wasentirely. Oh! those, beautiful mountains of the Cuchullin, raisingtheir diamond tops into the summer air, with the purple haze beneaththe
m, and the blue sea flecked with white-winged birds! Scenery likethis I'll never get out of my head, and what is more I never wish to,and if ever it does attempt to slip away, sure I've only to shut my eyesand play that sweetest of old reveries, `Tha mi tinn leis a ghoal,' (TheLanguor of Love), and it will all, all come back again."
"And we've had the very best of eating and drinking all the time, youknow," Ralph said.
"And it hasn't cost us much," added Allan.
Rory looked first at one and then at the other of his friends,apparently more in sorrow than in anger; then he resumed his book, thistime with the right side up.
"I've been keeping tally," continued Allan,