"Ferry well, mem," Christina said, submissively. "But you will go into the saloon, mem, when I will mek the bed for you, and the lamp will hef to be lit, but Hamish he will light the lamp for you. And are there any other things you wa.s.s thinking of that you would like, mem?"
"No; I want something to eat."
"And Hamish, mem, he wa.s.s saying I will ask you whether you will hef the claret-wine, or--or--the other wine, mem, that makes a noise--"
"Bring me some water. But the whole of you will pay dearly for this!"
"I ask your pardon, mem?" said Christina, with great respect.
"Oh, go away, and get me something to eat!"
And in fact Miss White made a very good dinner, though the things had to be placed before her on her dressing-table. And her rage and indignation did not prevent her having, after all a gla.s.s or two of the claret-wine.
And then she permitted Hamish to come in and light the swinging lamp; and thereafter Christina made up one of the two narrow beds. Miss White was left alone.
Many a hundred times had she been placed in great peril--on the stage; and she knew that on such occasions it had been her duty to clasp her hand on her forehead and set to work to find out how to extricate herself. Well, on this occasion she did not make use of any dramatic gesture; but she turned out the lamp, and threw herself on the top of this narrow little bed; and was determined that, before they got her conveyed to their savage home in the North, she would make one more effort for her freedom. Then she heard the man at the helm begin to hum to himself "_Fhir a bhata, na horo eile_." The night darkened. And soon all the wild emotions of the day were forgotten; for she was asleep.
Asleep--in the very waters through which she had sailed with her lover on the white summer day. But _Rose-leaf! Rose-leaf! what faint wind will carry you_ NOW _to the South?_
CHAPTER XLV.
THE VOYAGE OVER.
And now the brave old _Umpire_ is nearing her Northern home once more; and surely this is a right royal evening for the reception of her. What although the sun has just gone down, and the sea around them become a plain of heaving and wrestling blue-black waves? Far away, in that purple-black sea, lie long promontories that are of a still pale rose-color; and the western sky is a blaze of golden-green; and they know that the wild, beautiful radiance is still touching the wan walls of Castle Dare. And there is Ardalanish Point; and that the ruddy Ross of Mull; and there will be a good tide in the Sound of Iona. Why, then, do they linger, and keep the old _Umpire_ with her sails flapping idly in the wind?
"As you pa.s.s through Jura"s Sound Bend your course by Scarba"s sh.o.r.e; Shun, oh shun, the gulf profound Where Corrievreckan"s surges roar!"
They are in no danger of Corrievreckan now; they are in familiar waters; only that is another Colonsay that lies away there in the south. Keith Macleod, seated up at the bow, is calmly regarding it. He is quite alone. There is no sound around him but the lapping of the waves.
"And ever as the year returns, The charm-bound sailors knows the day; For sadly still the Mermaid mourns The lovely chief of Colonsay."
And is he listening now for the wild sound of her singing? Or is he thinking of the brave Macphail, who went back after seven long months of absence, and found the maid of Colonsay still true to him? The ruby ring she had given him had never paled. There was one woman who could remain true to her absent lover.
Hamish came forward.
"Will we go on now, sir?" said he, in the Gaelic.
"No."
Hamish looked round. The shining clear evening looked very calm, notwithstanding the tossing of the blue-black waves. And it seemed wasteful to the old sailor to keep the yacht lying-to or aimlessly sailing this way and that while this favorable wind remained to them.
"I am not sure that the breeze will last, Sir Keith."
"Are you sure of anything, Hamish?" Macleod said, quite absently. "Well, there is one thing we can all make sure of. But I have told you, Hamish, I am not going up the Sound of Iona in daylight: why, there is not a man in all the islands who would not know of our coming by to-morrow morning. We will go up the Sound as soon as it is dark. It is a new moon to-night; and I think we can go without lights, Hamish."
"_Dunara_ is coming south to-night, Sir Keith," the old man said.
"Why, Hamish, you seem to have lost all your courage as soon as you put Colin Laing ash.o.r.e."
"Colin Laing! Is it Colin Laing!" exclaimed Hamish, indignantly. "I will know how to sail this yacht, and I will know the banks, and the tides, and the rocks better than any fifteen thousands of Colin Laings!"
"And what if the _Dunara_ is coming south? If she cannot see us, we can see her."
But whether it was that Colin Laing had, before leaving the yacht, managed to convey to Hamish some notion of the risk he was running, or whether it was that he was merely anxious for his master"s safety, it was clear that Hamish was far from satisfied. He opened and shut his big clasp-knife in an awkward silence. Then he said,--
"You will not go to Castle Dare, Sir Keith?"
Macleod started; he had forgotten that Hamish was there.
"No. I have told you where I am going."
"But there is not any good anchorage at that island sir!" he protested.
"Have I not been round every bay of it; and you too, Sir Keith? and you know there is not an inch of sand or of mud, but only the small loose stones. And then the shepherd they left there all by himself; it was mad he became at last, and took his own life too."
"Well, do you expect to see his ghost?" Macleod said. "Come, Hamish, you have lost your nerve in the South. Surely you are not afraid of being anywhere in the old yacht so long as she has good sea-room around her?"
"And if you are not wishing to go up the Sound of Iona in the daylight, Sir Keith," Hamish said, still clinging to the point, "we could bear a little to the south, and go round the outside of Iona."
"The Dubh-Artach men would recognize the _Umpire_ at once," Macleod said, abruptly; and then he suggested to Hamish that he should get a little more way on the yacht, so that she might be a trifle steadier when Christina carried the dinner into the English lady"s cabin. But indeed there was now little breeze of any kind. Hamish"s fears of a dead calm was likely to prove true.
Meanwhile another conversation had been going forward in the small cabin below, that was now suffused by a strange warm light reflected from the evening sky. Miss White was looking very well now, after her long sea-voyage. During their first few hours in blue water she had been very ill indeed; and she repeatedly called en Christina to allow her to die.
The old Highland-woman came to the conclusion that English ladies were rather childish in their way; but the only answer she made to this reiterated prayer was to make Miss White as comfortable as was possible, and to administer such restoratives as she thought desirable. At length, when recovery and a sound appet.i.te set in, the patient began to show a great friendship for Christina. There was no longer any theatrical warning of the awful fate in store for everybody connected with this enterprise. She tried rather to enlist the old woman"s sympathies on her behalf, and if she did not very well succeed in that direction, at least she remained on friendly terms with Christina and received from her the solace of much gossip about the whereabouts and possible destination of the ship.
And on this evening Christina had an important piece of news.
"Where have we got to now, Christina?" said Miss White, quite cheerfully, when the old woman entered.
"Oh yes, mem, we will still be off the Mull sh.o.r.e, but a good piece away from it, and there is not much wind, mem. But Hamish thinks we will get to the anchorage the night whatever."
"The anchorage!" Miss White exclaimed eagerly. "Where? You are going to Castle Dare, surely?"
"No, mem, I think not," said Christina. "I think it is an island; but you will not know the name of that island--there is no English for it at all."
"But where is it? Is it near Castle Dare?"
"Oh no, mem; it is a good way from Castle Dare; and it is out in the sea. Do you know Gometra, mem?--wa.s.s you ever going out to Gometra?"
"Yes, of course, I remember something about it anyway."
"Ah, well, it is away out past Gometra, mem; and not a good place for an anchorage whatever; but Hamish he will know all the anchorages."
"What on earth is the use of going there?"