After luncheon was the time for a little well-earned rest. The young
men would stroll down towards the lake, by whose banks there was always
something to be seen or done for half-an-hour, if it were only skipping
flat stones across its surface; while the two elder ones would enjoy the
_dolce far niente_ and their _odium cum dignitate_ seated on a log.
"Well," said old Ap, one day, "I suppose she is to be cutter-rigged,
though for my own part I'd prefer a yawl."
"There is no accounting for tastes," replied McBain; "and as to me, I
don't care for two masts where one will do. She won't be over large,
you know, when all is said and done."
"Just look you," continued Ap, "how handy a bit of mizen is."
"It is at times, I grant you," replied McBain.
"To be sure," said Ap, "you may sail faster with the cutter rig, but
then you don't want to race, do you, look see?"
"Not positively to race, Mr Ewen," replied McBain, "but there will be
times when it may be necessary to get into harbour or up a loch with all
speed, and if that isn't racing, why it's the very next thing to it."
"Yes, yes," said old Ap, "but still a yawl is easier worked, and as
you'll be a bit short-handed--"
"What!" cried McBain, in some astonishment; "an eight-ton cutter, and
four of us. Call you that short-handed?"
"Yes, yes, I do, look see," answered Ap, taking a big pinch of his
favourite dust, "because I'd call it only two; surely you wouldn't count
upon the Englishmen in a sea-way."
McBain laughed.
"Why," he said, "before a month is over I'll have those two Saxon lads
as clever cuttersmen as ever handled tiller or belayed a halyard. Just
wait until we return up the loch after our summer's cruise, and you can
criticise us as much as ever you please."
Now these amateur yacht-builders, if so we may call them, took the
greatest of pains, not only with the decking and rigging of their
cutter, but with her painting and ornamentation as well. There were two
or three months before them, because they did not mean to start cruising
before May, so they worked away at her with the plodding steadiness of
five old beavers. In their little cabin, where it must be confessed
there was not too much head room, there was nevertheless a good deal of
comfort, and all the painting and gilding was done by Rory's five
artistic fingers. In fact, he painted her outside and in, and he named
her the _Flower of Arrandoon_, and he painted that too on her stern,
with a great many dashes and flourishes, that any one, save himself,
would have deemed quite unnecessary.
It was only natural that they should do their best to make their pigmy
vessel look as neat and as nice as possible; but they had another object
in view in doing so, for as soon as their summer cruise was over they
meant to sell her. So that what they spent upon her would not really be
money thrown to the winds, but quite the reverse. Young Ralph knew
dozens of young men just as fond of sailing and adventure as he was, and
he thought it would be strange indeed if he himself, assisted by the
voluble Rory, could not manage to give such a glowing account of their
cruise, and of all the fun and adventures they were sure to have, as
would make the purchase of the _Flower of Arrandoon_ something to be
positively competed for.
When she was at last finished and fitted, and lying at anchor, in the
creek of Glentroom, with the water lap-lapping under her bows, her sails
all nicely clewed, and her slender topmast bobbing and bending to the
trees, as if saluting them, why I can assure you she looked very pretty
indeed. But there was something more than mere prettiness about her;
she looked useful. Care had been taken with her ballasting, so she rode
like a duck in the water. She had, too, sufficient breadth of beam, and
yet possessed depth of keel enough to make her safe in a sea-way, and
McBain knew well--and so, for that matter, did Allan--that these were
solid advantages in the kind of waters that would form their cruising
ground. In a word, the _Flower of Arrandoon_ was a comfortable
sea-worthy boat, well proportioned and handy, and what more could any
one wish for?
And now the snow had all fled from the hills and the glens, only on the
crevices of mountain tops was it still to be seen--ay, and would be
likely to be seen all the summer through, but softly and balmily blew
the western winds, and the mavis and blackbird returned to make joyous
music from morning's dawn till dewy eve. Half hidden in bushy dells,
canary-coloured primroses smiled over the green of their leaves, and
ferns 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 the
haughs, told that spring had come, and summer itself was not far
distant.
And so one fine morning says McBain, "Now, Allan, if your friends are
ready, we'll go down to the creek, get up our bit of an anchor, and be
off on a trial trip."
Trial trips are often failures, but that of the boys' cutter certainly
was not. Everything was done under McBain's directions, Allan doing
nearly all the principal work, though assisted by old Ap; but if Ralph
and Rory did not work, they watched. Nothing escaped them, and if they
did 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 white
overhead, 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 Glen
Mora. They did not run right up against the old black pier, and smash
their own bowsprit in the attempt to knock it down. No, the boat was
well steered, and the sails lowered just at the right time, the mainsail
neatly and smartly furled, and covered as neatly, and the jib stowed.
Old Ap was left as watchman, and McBain and his friends went on shore
for a walk and luncheon.
In the evening, after they had enjoyed to the full their "bit of a
cruise on shore," as McBain called it, they returned to their boat, and
almost immediately started back for Glentroom. The wind still blew up
the loch; it was almost, though not quite, ahead of them. This our
young yachtsmen did not regret, for, as their sailing-master told them,
it would enable them to find out what the cutter could do, for, tacking
and half-tacking, they had to work to windward.
It was gloaming ere they dropped anchor again in the creek, and McBain's
verdict 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 on
excellent 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 an
appetite for the haunch of mountain mutton that awaited them on their
return to the castle. They were in bounding spirits too; it made every
one else happy just to see them happy, so that everything passed off
that night as merrily as marriage bells.
The loch near the old Castle of Arrandoon is one of the great chain of
lakes that stretch from east to west of Scotland, and are joined
together by a broad and deep canal, which gives passage to many a
stately ship. This canal, once upon a time, was looked upon as one of
the engineering wonders of the world, leading as it does often up and
over hills so high and wild that in sober England they would be honoured
with the title of mountains.
For a whole week or more, ere the cutter turned her bows to the
southward and west, and started away on her summer cruise, almost every
day was spent on this loch. It is big enough in all conscience for
manoeuvres of any kind, being in many places betwixt two and three miles
in width, while its length is over twenty.
It might be said, with a good deal of truth, that Allan McGregor had
spent his life in boats upon lakes, for as soon as his little hand was
big enough to grasp a tiller he had held one. He knew all about boats
and boat-sailing, and was, on the whole, an excellent fresh-water
sailor. With Ralph and Rory it was somewhat different, good oarsman
though 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 not
learn?
In old Ap's cottage were models of several well-rigged vessels of the
smaller class, the principal of them being a sloop, a cutter, and a
yawl. Ap delighted to give lectures on the peculiar merits and rigging
of these, interspersed with many a "Yes, yes, young shentlemen, and look
you see," spoken with the curious accent which Welshmen alone can give
to such simple words. These models our heroes used to copy, so that,
theoretically speaking, they knew a great deal about seamanship before
they stepped on board the cutter to take their first cruise.
Practice alone makes perfect in any profession, and although experience
is oftentimes a hard and cruel teacher, there is no doubt she _docet
stultos_, 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 his
hand, and was bowling along full before the wind. It seemed such easy
work sailing thus, and Rory was giving more of his time than he ought to
have done to conversation with his companions, and even occasionally
stealing 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 to
sleep, he would have been dozing in dog fashion with his weather eye
open. But on this occasion poor Rory was scratching and rubbing a bare
head.
"Crack, harsh!" he said, looking at the offending sail; "troth and
indeed 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 same
token my hat's off too, and troth I thought the poor head of me was in
it."
It will be observed that Rory had a habit of talking slightly Irish at
times, but I must do him the credit of saying that he never did so
except when excited, or simply "for the fun of the thing."
Another useful lesson that both Ralph and Rory took some pains to learn
was to _look out for squalls_. They learned this on the loch, for there
sometimes, just as you are quietly passing some tree-clad bank or brae,
you all at once open out some beautifully romantic glen. Yes, both
beautiful and romantic enough, but down that gully sweeps the gusty
wind, 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, once
learned, was taken to heart, and did them many a good turn in after
days, when sailing away over the seas of the far North in their saucy
yacht, the _Snowbird_.
The time now drew rapidly near for them to start away to cruise in
earnest. They had spent what they termed "a jolly time of it" in
Glentroom. Time had never, never seemed to fly so quickly before. They
had had many adventures too; but one they had only a day or two before
sailing was the strangest. As, however, this adventure had so funny a
beginning, though all too near a fatal ending, I must reserve it for
another chapter.