finished and fitted, and lying at anchor, in thecreek of Glentroom, with the water lap-lapping under her bows, her sailsall nicely clewed, and her slender topmast bobbing and bending to thetrees, as if saluting them, why I can assure you she looked very prettyindeed. But there was something more than mere prettiness about her;she looked useful. Care had been taken with her ballasting, so she rodelike a duck in the water. She had, too, sufficient breadth of beam, andyet possessed depth of keel enough to make her safe in a sea-way, andMcBain knew well--and so, for that matter, did Allan--that these weresolid advantages in the kind of waters that would form their cruisingground. In a word, the _Flower of Arrandoon_ was a comfortablesea-worthy boat, well proportioned and handy, and what more could anyone wish for?
And now the snow had all fled from the hills and the glens, only on thecrevices of mountain tops was it still to be seen--ay, and would belikely to be seen all the summer through, but softly and balmily blewthe western winds, and the mavis and blackbird returned to make joyousmusic from morning's dawn till dewy eve. Half hidden in bushy dells,canary-coloured primroses smiled over the green of their leaves, andferns and breckans began to unfold their brown fingers in the breeze,while buds on the silvery-scented birches that grew on the brae-lands,and verdant crimson-tipped tassels on the larches that courted thehaughs, told that spring had come, and summer itself was not fardistant.
And so one fine morning says McBain, "Now, Allan, if your friends areready, we'll go down to the creek, get up our bit of an anchor, and beoff on a trial trip."
Trial trips are often failures, but that of the boys' cutter certainlywas not. Everything was done under McBain's directions, Allan doingnearly all the principal work, though assisted by old Ap; but if Ralphand Rory did not work, they watched. Nothing escaped them, and if theydid not say much, it was because, like Paddy's parrot, they were"rattling up the thinking."
The day was beautiful--a blue sky with drifting cloudlets of whiteoverhead, and a good though not stiff breeze blowing right up the loch;so they took advantage of this, and scudded on for ten miles to GlenMora. They did not run right up against the old black pier, and smashtheir own bowsprit in the attempt to knock it down. No, the boat waswell steered, and the sails lowered just at the right time, the mainsailneatly and smartly furled, and covered as neatly, and the jib stowed.Old Ap was left as watchman, and McBain and his friends went on shorefor a walk and luncheon.
In the evening, after they had enjoyed to the full their "bit of acruise on shore," as McBain called it, they returned to their boat, andalmost immediately started back for Glentroom. The wind still blew upthe loch; it was almost, though not quite, ahead of them. This ouryoung yachtsmen did not regret, for, as their sailing-master told them,it would enable them to find out what the cutter could do, for, tackingand half-tacking, they had to work to windward.
It was gloaming ere they dropped anchor again in the creek, and McBain'sverdict on the _Flower of Arrandoon_ was a perfectly satisfactory one.
"She'll do, gentlemen," he said, "she'll do; she is handy, and stout,and willing. There is no extra sauciness about her, though she is onexcellent terms with herself, and although she doesn't sail _impudently_close to the wind, still I say she behaves herself gallantly and well."
It wanted nothing more than this to give Allan and his friends anappetite for the haunch of mountain mutton that awaited them on theirreturn to the castle. They were in bounding spirits too; it made everyone else happy just to see them happy, so that everything passed offthat night as merrily as marriage bells.
The loch near the old Castle of Arrandoon is one of the great chain oflakes that stretch from east to west of Scotland, and are joinedtogether by a broad and deep canal, which gives passage to many astately ship. This canal, once upon a time, was looked upon as one ofthe engineering wonders of the world, leading as it does often up andover hills so high and wild that in sober England they would be honouredwith the title of mountains.
For a whole week or more, ere the cutter turned her bows to thesouthward and west, and started away on her summer cruise, almost everyday was spent on this loch. It is big enough in all conscience formanoeuvres of any kind, being in many places betwixt two and three milesin width, while its length is over twenty.
It might be said, with a good deal of truth, that Allan McGregor hadspent his life in boats upon lakes, for as soon as his little hand wasbig enough to grasp a tiller he had held one. He knew all about boatsand boat-sailing, and was, on the whole, an excellent fresh-watersailor. With Ralph and Rory it was somewhat different, good oarsmanthough the former at all events was. However, they were apt pupils,and, with good health and willingness to work, what is it a boy will notlearn?
In old Ap's cottage were models of several well-rigged vessels of thesmaller class, the principal of them being a sloop, a cutter, and ayawl. Ap delighted to give lectures on the peculiar merits and riggingof these, interspersed with many a "Yes, yes, young shentlemen, and lookyou see," spoken with the curious accent which Welshmen alone can giveto such simple words. These models our heroes used to copy, so that,theoretically speaking, they knew a great deal about seamanship beforethey stepped on board the cutter to take their first cruise.
Practice alone makes perfect in any profession, and although experienceis oftentimes a hard and cruel teacher, there is no doubt she _docetstultos_, and her lessons are given with a force there is no forgetting.Of such was the lesson Rory got one morning; he had the tiller in hishand, and was bowling along full before the wind. It seemed such easywork sailing thus, and Rory was giving more of his time than he ought tohave done to conversation with his companions, and even occasionallystealing a glance on shore to admire the scenery, when all at once,"Flop! flop! crack! harsh!" cried the sail, and round came the boom.The wind was not very fresh, so there was little harm done; besides,McBain was there, and I verily believe that had that old tar gone tosleep, he would have been dozing in dog fashion with his weather eyeopen. But on this occasion poor Rory was scratching and rubbing a barehead.
"Crack, harsh!" he said, looking at the offending sail; "troth andindeed it _is_ harsh you crack, I can tell you."
"Ah!" said McBain, quietly, "sailing a bit off, you see."
"'Deed and indeed," replied Rory, "but you're right, and by the sametoken my hat's off too, and troth I thought the poor head of me was init."
It will be observed that Rory had a habit of talking slightly Irish attimes, but I must do him the credit of saying that he never did soexcept when excited, or simply "for the fun of the thing."
Another useful lesson that both Ralph and Rory took some pains to learnwas to _look out for squalls_. They learned this on the loch, for theresometimes, just as you are quietly passing some tree-clad bank or brae,you all at once open out some beautifully romantic glen. Yes, bothbeautiful and romantic enough, but down that gully sweeps the gustywind, with force enough often to tear the sticks off the sturdiest boat,or lay her flat and helpless on her beam ends. But the lesson, oncelearned, was taken to heart, and did them many a good turn in afterdays, when sailing away over the seas of the far North in their saucyyacht, the _Snowbird_.
The time now drew rapidly near for them to start away to cruise inearnest. They had spent what they termed "a jolly time of it" inGlentroom. Time had never, never seemed to fly so quickly before. Theyhad had many adventures too; but one they had only a day or two beforesailing was the strangest. As, however, this adventure had so funny abeginning, though all too near a fatal ending, I must reserve it foranother chapter.
CHAPTER FIVE.
SHOWING HOW ROYALTY VISITED ARRANDOON, AND HOW OUR HEROES RETURNED THECALL.
The windows of the double-bedded chamber occupied by Allan McGregor'sguests overlooked both lake and glen. At one corner of it was a kind ofturret recess; this had been originally used as a dressing-room, butAllan had gone to some trouble and expense in fitting it up as an own,own room for Rory. Ralph called it Rory's "boudoir," Rory himselfcalled it his "sulky." The flo
or of the curious little room was softlycarpeted; the walls were hung with ancient tapestry; the windows neatlydraped. There was a little bookcase in it, in which, much to hissurprise, the young man found all his favourite poets and authors. Hisfiddle and music were in this turret as well; so it was all very niceand snug indeed.
Scarcely a day passed that Rory did not spend an hour or two in his"sulky," generally after luncheon, when not _on_ or _at_ the lake; andeven while reclining on his lounge the view that he could catch aglimpse of was just as romantic and beautiful as any boy poet couldwish. There was no door between this and the bedchamber, only a curtainwhich could be drawn at pleasure.
Now, as I happen to love the truth for its own simple sake, I must tellyou that neither Rory nor Ralph was very fond of early