THE boats were scattered like milestones--as was stated by
Brian--through the sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht
_Acushla_ was leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in
her mainsail, and although she towed a large punt, and was by no means
a fast boat, she had no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact
being that the half-dozen boats that lumbered after her were mainly
fishing craft hailing from the village of Cairndhu, and, as all the
world knows, these are not built for speed but endurance. They are
half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One of the legends of the coast
is that when a lug sail is new its colour is brown, and as a new sail is
never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of finding out if the story
is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are kaleidoscopic in their
patchwork. It is understood that anything will serve as a patch for a
lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat has been used for
this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that it is on record
that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into a jacket for
the ordinary wearing of a lad.
The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia
and repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an
honoured place in that apartment.
On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the
entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the
boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a
sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the
motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a
green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails,
make apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning
on a dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape.
As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct
course in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord,
approached one coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared
snow-white, with only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly
all dark, and the air was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The
cries of the innumerable sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing
boat before they settled and the rocks became gradually white once more,
had a remarkable effect when heard against that monotonous background,
so to speak, of rolling waves.
The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass
of the Atlantic roared everlastingly.
But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who
sat on the weather side of the cutter _Acushla_ became aware of a
commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the
intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that
sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer
cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those
inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them
and listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as
well as other things.
“That’s the Irish question,” remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering
his own cutter.
He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the
headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in
explaining.
“Very true, very true,” said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke
Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr.
Airey’s reply what was Lord Innisfail’s meaning.
But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan’s
political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt
to grapple with the question--if it was a question--suggested by Lord
Innisfail.
The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously.
Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with
effusion.
“Stand by that foresheet,” said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht’s
hands. “We’ll heave to until the other craft come up.”
In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling
about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship’s company hold
their breath and think longingly of pale brandy.
The cruise of the _Acushla_ and the appearance of the fleet of boats
upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and
to the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father
Conn, come to grasp something of the force of the phrase “local colour”.
Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain
definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond
those that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows
may be comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient
scandal usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment.
Now, it was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an
incipient scandal--she admitted that both were excellent in their own
way--but she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped
to impart to their visit some local colour.
She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told,
with pertinacity. The _fête_ which she believed was known to the Irish
peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features;
though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had
vanished into something substantial--this was the way she described
the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well
satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come
to the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they
would be true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady
Innisfail was not satisfied.
Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her
house-party would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that
it is the marriages which do not come off that are talked about most;
and, after all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in
marriage, and she yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came
to understand something of her ladyship’s yearnings. Like the priest and
the other inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted.
It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded
as a person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia.
At his home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So
in the region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the
caubeen, which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and
would possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions.
But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to
perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship’s guests of the most
commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced
Brian to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr.
Wynne.
It was also his appreciation of her ladyship’s wants that caused him to
suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of
attraction--these were not the exact words employed by the boatman--to
some of her ladyship’s guests.
It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted
with the suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were
delighted with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be
let alone. Still, upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a
considerable number of the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice
was one of the few girls who were of the party. Helen would have dearly
liked to go also; she would certainly have gone if she had not upon
one--only one--previous occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail
out to the headlands. She was wise enough not to imperil her prospects
for the sake of being drenched with sea water.
She wondered--she did not exactly hope it--if it was possible for
Beatrice Avon to become seasick.
This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to
where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the
headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm.