CHAPTER THREE.
THE WRECK IS FOLLOWED BY REPOSE, REFRESHMENT, SURPRISE, AND DISASTER.
The distance from land was not more than a few hundred yards;nevertheless, it occupied a considerable time to pass over that space,the raft being ill-adapted for quick progression through the water.
Close to the shore there was a flat rock, to which, as they approachedit, their attention was drawn by the appearance of what seemed to beliving creatures of some sort. Quin and Robin Tips, sitting on theraft, naturally saw them first.
"I do belave it's men, for they're liftin' their hids an' lookin' at us.Av it was the South Says, now, I'd say they was saviges peepin' at usover the rocks."
"P'raps they're boys a-bathin'," suggested Tips.
"Are they white?" asked Captain McPherson, who, being chin-deep in thewater and behind the raft, could not see the rock referred to.
"No; sure they seem to be grey, or blue."
"Oo, they'll be seals," returned the skipper, nasally--a tone which iseminently well adapted for sarcastic remark without the necessity ofelaborate language.
"In coorse they is," said Tips; "don't you see they're a-heavin' uptheir tails as well as their 'eads?"
On advancing a few yards farther, all doubt upon the question was put atrest. The animals, of which about a dozen were enjoying themselves onthe rock, raised themselves high on their flippers and gazed, withenormous eyes, at the strange-looking monster that was coming in fromthe sea! Thus they remained, apparently paralysed with astonishment,until the raft was within pistol-shot, and then, unable to endure thesuspense longer, they all slipped off into the sea.
A few minutes later and the raft struck on the shore. And well was itfor the party that the weather chanced to be so fine, for if there hadbeen anything like a breeze, their frail contrivance would inevitablyhave been dashed to pieces. Even a slight swell from the westward wouldhave raised such a surf on that rugged shore that it would have beenimpossible for the best of swimmers to have landed without broken limbs,if not loss of life. As it was, they got ashore not only withoutdifficulty, but even succeeded in hauling the raft up on the beachwithout much damage to its parts--though, of course, the unfortunatefowls in the hen-coops had all perished!
While Mabberly and the others were engaged in securing the raft, Barretwas sent off along shore with directions to ascertain whether there wasany habitation near. To his right the high cliffs came down so close tothe sea that it seemed very improbable that any cottage or hamlet couldbe found in that direction. He therefore turned towards the left, wherethe cliffs receded some distance from the shore, leaving a narrow stripof meadow land.
Hurrying forward about a quarter of a mile, he stopped and looked abouthim. The sun was still high in the heavens--for the days are long andnights brief in that region during summer--and its rays had so farscattered the mists that all the low-lying land was clear, though themountain-range inland was only visible a short distance above its base.The effect of this was to enhance the weird grandeur of the view, forwhen the eye had traced the steep glens, overhanging cliffs, ruggedwater-courses, and sombre corries upward to the point where all was lostin cloud, the imagination was set free to continue the scenery toillimitable heights.
The youth was still gazing upward, with solemnised feelings, when therewas presented to him one of those curious aspects of nature which aresometimes, though rarely, witnessed in mountainous regions. Suddenly anopening occurred in the clouds--or mist--which shrouded themountain-tops, and the summit of a stupendous cliff bathed in richsunshine, was seen as if floating in the air. Although obviously partof the mountain near the base of which he stood, this cliff--completelyisolated as it was--seemed a magical effect, and destitute of any realconnection with earth.
While he was looking in wonder and admiration at the sight, he observeda bird hovering about motionless in the blue vault high above thecliffs. Although inexperienced in such scenery and sights, Barret knewwell enough that nothing but an eagle--and that of the largest size--could be visible at all at such a distance. Suddenly the bird saileddownwards with a grand circular sweep, and was lost among the shadows ofthe perpendicular rocks. A few minutes more and the mists drifted overthe opening, causing the vision to disappear.
This was Barret's first view of the Eagle Cliff, which was destined toexercise a powerful and lasting influence upon his fortunes!
A few yards beyond this the explorer came upon a sheep track, and alittle farther on he found one of those primitive roads which are formedin wild out-of-the-way places by the passage of light country carts,with the aid of a few rounded stones where holes required to be filledup, or soft places strengthened. Following it a short distance to aspot where it ran between a precipice and the shore, he came suddenly insight of a wilderness of fallen rocks, which were varied in size frommere pebbles to masses the size of an omnibus. These had all fallenfrom a steep spur of the mountains which projected towards the sea ofthat place. The whole of the level land at the base of the spur wasstrewn with them; some being old, moss-covered and weather-worn, othersfresh and sharp in outline, as if they had fallen only the previouswinter, as probably they had, for the places from which they had beendislodged could be seen still fresh and light-coloured, nearly athousand feet up on the riven cliffs. It was a species of desolationthat powerfully recalled some scenes in Dante's "Inferno," and had adepressing effect on the youth's spirits, for nothing seemed moreunlikely than the existence of a human habitation in such a place.
A new view of the matter broke upon him, however, when he suddenlybecame aware that a spot in the confused scene which he had taken to bea clump of withered bracken was in reality a red cow! Looking a littlemore narrowly at objects he soon perceived a hut among the rocks. Itwas so small and rude and rugged as almost to escape detection. Afurious barking soon told that he had been seen, and two collie dogsrushed towards him with demonstrations that threatened him withimmolation on the spot. The uproar put life into a few more clumps ofred bracken, and produced a lively display of sheep and cattlethroughout the region.
Barret walked straight up to the door of the hut, and the collieswithdrew from the attack--as most noisy demonstrators do when treatedwith silent indifference.
"Is there any one inside?" he asked of a bare-legged, shaggy-headed boy,who came out and gazed at him, apparently with his mouth as well as hiseyes.
"Na," answered the boy.
"Any other cottages or houses near this?"
"Ay; yonder."
The boy pointed in the direction of the sea, where, in a stony nookbetween two jutting masses of rock, nestled about a dozen huts built ofboulder stones gathered from the sea-shore. So small were these huts,and so stupendous the rocks around them, that they might easily havebeen overlooked by a careless eye. So might the half-dozenfishing-boats that lay in the little cove beside them.
A stream or rivulet--better known in Scotland as a burn--ran past thehamlet, formed a pool just below it, and dropped into the cove close tothe place where the boats lay.
Rejoiced to find even the poorest kind of shelter in such a place,Barret hastened down to the cove, and, tapping at the door of thelargest of the cottages, was bidden "come in" by a soft voice.
Entering, he was surprised to find a neatly, though plainly, furnishedroom, which was evidently the kitchen of the house--indeed, the soleroom, with the exception of an off-shoot closet. The large openfireplace contained a peat fire on the hearth, over which hung abubbling pot. There were two box-beds opposite the fire, and in thewall which faced the door there was a very small window, containing fourpanes of glass, each of which had a knot in the middle of it. One ofthem also presented the phenomenon of a flattened nose, for the boy withthe ragged head had rushed down and stationed himself there to observethe result of the unexpected and singular visit.
Beside the window, in a homely arm-chair, sat an invalid girl with palethin cheeks, bright blue eyes, and long flaxen hair. If not pretty, shewas, at all events, e
xtremely interesting, and possessed the great charmof a winning smile.
Apologising for causing her alarm by his damp, dishevelled, and suddenappearance, Barret asked if there were any men about the place.
No, there were none there at the moment; most of them being out afterthe sheep and cattle, and some gathering peat, or away in the boats.
"But surely they have not left you all by yourself?" said Barret, strucknot only by the appearance of the girl, but by the comparativerefinement of her language.
"Oh no!" she replied, with a slight smile; "they look well after me.Mrs Anderson has only gone to fetch some peats. But where have youcome from, sir? Your clothes are all wet!"
"You are right. I have just been saved from drowning, through God'smercy, along with my companions."
Here Barret gave her a brief outline of the recent disaster, and thenasked if Mrs Anderson was her mother.
"No; she is my aunt, but she is very good to me; takes as much care ofme as if I was her own daughter. I don't belong to this place. Theyhave sent me here for my health."
At this point they were interrupted by Mrs Anderson herself, whoentered with a load of peat, which she flung down, shook her fist at thenose-flattener outside, and turned in astonishment to her visitor.
Of course our shipwrecked friend had to retail his story to the woman,and then learned from her that the island was a very large one, with aname unpronounceable by English lips, that it was very thinly inhabited,that it consisted almost entirely of pasture land, and that "the laird"owned a large portion of it, including the little fishing village of"Cove."
While the woman was speaking an elderly man entered, whom she introducedas her husband Ian. To him Barret had to re-repeat his story, and thenasked if he and his friends could obtain shelter in the village for thenight.
"Iss it shelter ye'll be wantin'? Ye'll hev that an' welcome, though itwill be of the poorest. But in the mornin' ye'll gang up to the hoose,for the laird wud be ill-pleased if we keepit ye here."
"Pray, who is this laird?" asked Barret; "your wife has alreadymentioned him."
"Maister Gordon is his name. He lives near the heed o' Loch Lossie. Itiss over eight mile from here," said Ian; "an' a coot shentleman he iss,too. Fery fond o' company, though it iss not much company that comesthis way, for the steam-poats don't veesit the loch reg'lar or often.He'll be fery glad to see you, sir, an' to help ye to git home. Butwe'd petter be goin' to tell your freen's that we can putt them up forthe nicht. I'll go pack with ye, an we'll take the poy to help an'carry up their things."
"You forget that we have been wrecked," returned Barret with a laugh,"and have no `things' to carry, except our own damp carcases."
"That's true, sir, but we'll be none the worse o' the poy, what-e-ver.Come away, Tonal'," said Ian, as they started back along the shore. "Itiss under the Eagle Cliff where ye came to laund, I make no doot?"
"Well, I suppose it was; at least, there is a range of cliffs close tothe place where our raft struck."
"Oo ay--but it iss not the wee precipices, it iss the big hull behindthem that we ca' the Eagle Cliff."
"Oh, indeed! I saw that cliff in a peculiar manner as I came along,"said Barret giving a description of the scene.
"Ay; it iss sometimes seen like that," said Ian; "an' we often see theeagle, but it's no' possible to git a shot at that crater. The laird isreal keen to bring it doon, for it plays the mischief among the lambs,an' him an' his freen's hes aften tried, but they hev not manicht ityet."
Thus chatting they soon reached the raft, and found the disconsolateparty waiting impatiently for them.
"Shall we leave it where it lies, or drag it further up on the beach?"asked Mabberly, referring to the raft.
"Ye petter haul it a wee higher up," said Ian, examining the machinewith much interest; "for when it comes on to plow there's a heavy seahere. Weel, weel, but it iss a strange contrivance!"
"Ay; an' also a useful one," said the skipper, drily--at least as dulyas was possible in the circumstance.
"Noo, shentlemen, I think we had petter be goin'."
It was indeed time, for although the weather was warm and fine, the sunhad set, and their damp garments began to feel uncomfortable.
At the Cove the whole party was accommodated in a single-roomed hut,which chanced to be empty at the time. Here the hospitable fishermenspread nets for bedding, and with plaids made up for the lack ofblankets. They also kindled a large peat fire, and put on a pot ofpotatoes, and some splendid sea-trout, while Mrs Anderson preparedoat-cakes at her own fire, and sent them in as required.
"Noo, shentlemen, ye'll tak a tram?" said Ian, producing a black bottle.
Immeasurable was the astonishment of the Highlander when the gentlemenrefused a dram.
"But--but, ye'll catch yer death o' cauld, if ye don't!" he said,remonstratively, as he stood bottle and glass in hand.
"Thanks, friend," replied Jackman, "but we have taken in so much saltwater during our swim to land that we are not sure whether the whiskywould agree with it."
"Hoots! havers!" exclaimed Ian, pouring out some of the liquid; "ye'rejokin'."
"In truth we are not, then," said Mabberly; "for we are all totalabstainers."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ian, who could not understand the principles orfeelings of men who, after a long exhausting swim in their clothes, werecapable of refusing whisky! For it is to be remembered that, althoughthe time we write of is comparatively recent, that remote island had notbeen visited by any apostle of temperance or total abstinence in regardto alcohol. Of course Ian had heard something of such principles, buthe did not believe in them, and certainly did not practise them."Hooiver, shentlemen," he added, "if ye wunna tak it--here's wushin'your fery coot health!"
Raising the glass, he drained it without winking, as if the contents hadbeen water, smacked his lips and put the bottle away.
It must not be supposed that all the crew of the late unfortunate_Fairy_ witnessed this proceeding unmoved, for, although they had allbeen engaged on the understanding that no strong drink was to be allowedor consumed while the voyage lasted, not one of them was a pledgedabstainer, and now that the voyage was ended it did seem as if the lawsof the voyage should no longer be binding. Still there remained afeeling that, as long as they continued a united party, the spirit ofthe agreement should not be broken; therefore the skipper and "Shames"let the bottle pass with a sigh, and Quin followed suit with anundertoned remark to Tips that, "he wouldn't have belaved tim'tation tobe so strong av he hadn't wrastled wid it!"
By that time most of the men of the hamlet had returned, and a rig outof fisher clothes was lent to each of the unfortunates, so that theywere enabled to pass the night in comfort while their own garments werein front of a good fire.
"Is that sick girl your daughter, Ian?" asked Giles Jackman that night,as he walked on the shore with his host before retiring to rest.
"No, sir; she's a niece--the daughter of a brother o' mine who hesfeathered his nest petter than me. He's a well-to-do grocer in Oban,an' hes geen his bairn a pretty good edication; but it's my opeenionthey hev all but killed her wi' their edication, for the doctor has teltthem to stop it altogither, an' send her here for a change o' air."
"Indeed! An interesting child, and so well-mannered, too," remarkedJackman.
"Humph! Nae doot she is. They do say that it's because my brither hasgotten an English wife. But for my pairt, oor weemen seem to me to beas weel mainered as the weemen sooth o' the Tweed."
"Quite as well, I doubt not; though I have not seen much of yourcountrywomen, Ian. Besides, good manners are to be judged by varyingstandards. What is good in the opinion of the Eskimo may be thoughtvery bad by the Hindoo, and _vice versa_. It is very much a matter oftaste. The manners of your niece, at all events, are admirable. Now itis time to turn in. Good-night, Ian."
The sun was high next morning when the wrecked men awoke, and began tofeel the outcries of nature with reference to breakfast. Long b
eforethat time the men of Cove had gone off to the hills, the peat-hags, orthe sea, according to their respective callings. But Mrs Anderson hada sumptuous breakfast of oatmeal porridge and fresh milk ready for thestrangers.
"Musha! but it'll make me mouth wather all the afthernoon thinkin' ofit," said Quin, on finishing his second plateful.
"It's prime wittles," remarked Tips, as he helped himself to more.
"Now, Barret, have you finished?" asked Mabberly.
"No; why?"
"Because, in the first place, you are evidently eating too much for yourhealth, and, in the second place, I want you to go up to what Ian callsthe Hoose, as a deputation to the laird. You see, although we areforced, as it were, to throw ourselves on his hospitality, I don't quitelike to descend on him all at once with the whole strength of our party.It will be better for one of us to break the ice, and as you are thebest-looking and most hypocritically urbane, when you choose, I think wecould not do better than devolve the duty upon you."
"Right, Bob, as usual; but don't you think," said Barret, helpinghimself to another ladleful of the porridge, "that my going may cut intwo directions? Doubtless the laird would be agreeably surprised tomeet with me; but then that will raise his expectations so high, that hewill be woefully disappointed on meeting with _you_!"
"Come, friends," cried Jackman, "it is dangerous to play with edgedtools immediately after a meal. My medical knowledge assures me ofthat. I quite approve of Barret forming the deputation, and the soonerhe starts off the better. The rest of us will assist Ian to fish in hisabsence."
Thus authorised and admonished, Barret finished breakfast, put on hisown garments--which, like those of his companions, were semi-nautical--and sallied forth for an eight miles' walk over the mountains to themansion of the laird, which lay on the other side of the Eagle's Cliffridge, on the shores of Loch Lossie.
He was guided the first part of the journey by Tonal' with the raggedhead, who, with an activity that seemed inexhaustible, led him up intowild and rugged places such as he had never before dreamed of--rockyfastnesses which, looked at from below, seemed inaccessible, even togoats, but which, on being attempted, proved to be by no means beyondthe powers of a steady head and strong limbs.
Reaching the summit of a heather-clad knoll that projected from aprecipitous part of the mountain-side, Barret paused to recover breathand look back at the calm sea. It lay stretched out far below him,looking, with its numerous islets in bird's-eye view, somewhat like amap. The mists had completely cleared away, and the sun was glitteringon the white expanse like a line of light from the shore to the horizon.Never before had our Englishman felt so like a bird, both as to thepoint of vision from which he surveyed the glorious scene, and theinternal sensation of joy which induced him not only to wish that hecould fly, but to think that a very little more of such exultation ofspirit would enable him to do so!
"Is that the Cove down there?" he asked of the ragged companion whostood beside him.
"Ay, that's the Cove!"
"Why, Donald, it looks like a mere speck in the scene from here, and themen look no bigger than crows."
As this observation called for no answer none was given, and Donaldseemed to regard his companion as one who was rather weak-minded.
"Have we come half-way yet, Donald?"
"No--no' near."
"Is it difficult to find the rest of the way from this point?"
"No; but it wad be diffeecult to miss it."
"Well, Donald, my boy, I have a strong desire to be alone--that is, totry if I cannot go the rest of the way without guidance; so, if you willjust give me a little direction, I'll let you go home, and many thanksfor coming thus far. Now, point out the landmarks."
He turned, as he spoke, towards the grand mountain that still toweredbehind him.
"There's naethin' t' pint oot," returned the boy; "ye've only t' haud onby this sheep track till ee come close under the cliff yonder."
"The Eagle Cliff?"
"Ay. It'll bring ee to a cairt road, an' ye've only to follow thatthrough the pass, an' haud on till ee come to the hoose. Ye can see thehoose frae the other side o' the pass."
"And what is the `hoose' called?" asked Barret.
"Kinlossie."
"Thank you. Good-bye, my boy."
A few coppers sent the youth of the ragged head away in high spirits.The young man watched him till he was concealed by a clump of smallbirch trees that hung like a fringe on the top of a neighbouringprecipice. Barret had just turned to continue the ascent to the EagleCliff, whose frowning battlements still rose high above him, when a wildshout from the boy made him turn and look anxiously back. The placewhich he had reached was strewn with great masses of rock that hadfallen from the cliffs. He was about to clamber on to one of these, inorder to obtain a better view, when the cause of the shout becameobvious. A splendid stag, frightened from its lair by the boy, burstfrom the birchwood, and, with antlers laid well back, bounded up theslope towards him. It was closely followed by two does.
Barret crouched at once behind the mass of rock. The deer, thinking,doubtless, only of the danger behind, had failed to observe him.
"Oh for Giles, with his rifle!" thought the youth, as the agilecreatures passed within less than a hundred yards of him, and headedstraight for the pass of the Eagle Cliff.
Scarcely had the thought occurred, when a flapping noise behind causedhim to turn quickly. It was the eagle himself, sailing majestically andslowly overhead, as though he knew full well that an Englishman withouta gun was a harmless creature!
Considerably excited by these unexpected and, to him, stirring sights,Barret pushed steadily upward, and soon reached a part of the passwhence he could see the valley beyond, with a house in the fardistance--which, of course, must be Kinlossie--standing in a clump ofwood on the margin of an inlet of the sea, known by the name of LochLossie.
But a far more astonishing sight than anything he had beheld thatmorning was yet in store for Barret. On turning round a projecting rockat the foot of the Eagle Cliff, he suddenly came upon a young girl,lying on the road as if dead!
Springing towards her, he knelt and raised her head. There was no bloodupon the face, which was deadly pale, and no apparent injury. She didnot seem to breathe, but on feeling her pulse he fancied that he felt aflutter there. A feeling of desperate regret passed through him as hethought of his utter destitution alike of medical or surgical knowledge.But Barret was not by any means a helpless man. Running to one of themany streams of water which trickled from the cliff, he filled the topof his wideawake therewith, and, returning, laved the girl's face, andpoured a little into her mouth.
His efforts were successful. She recovered consciousness, opened hereyes, and asked, with a confused look, what was the matter.
"You must have had a fall, dear child; but you'll be better presently.Let me raise you."
The girl tried to rise, but, with a sharp cry of pain, fell back againunconscious.
Barret soon ascertained that one of the poor girl's arms was severelybruised, perhaps broken. He knew not what to do, but he knew that thegreatest present evil was delay. He therefore wrapped her in theshepherd's plaid which she wore, and raised her as gently as possible inhis arms--making use of the plaid as a sort of sling, with part of itround his own neck. Then, thanking God for the strong limbs and muscleswith which he had been endowed, he set off with vigorous tread forKinlossie House.