ROLLING HOME--A ROUGH PASSAGE--THE WELCOME BACK--THE WAY A SAILOR
SLEEPS.
When the royal eagle, the bird of Jove, paid a visit to the Castle of
Arrandoon, and dropped so daringly into the poultry yard, intent only on
turkey, it will be remembered that his presence created no little
commotion, but I question if the din of even that memorable morning
equalled the hubbub that arose when Allan and his friends returned from
their four months' cruise in the cutter.
A letter from Oban had reached Mrs McGregor three days beforehand, so
that they were quite expected, and even the probable hour of their
arrival in the creek in Glentroom was known.
The voyage from Portree to Oban had been an uneventful one. The wind
was favourable all the way, but strong enough to make a glorious passage
with a close-reefed mainsail and storm-jib, so they bowled along,
impatient now to get back to bonnie Arrandoon. But they did not mind
the roughness of the passage; they did not mind the tumbling and the
tossing they got; they despised even the danger of being pooped. They
made heavy weather just off Ardnamurchan Point. McBain stuck to the
tiller, and for a whole hour, or more, perhaps, there was not a word
spoken by any one. They are fearful cliffs, those around the wild
highlands of Ardnamurchan, black and wet and fearful; the largest ship
that ever floated would be dashed to pieces in a few minutes if it had
the misfortune to run amongst them. Perhaps our heroes were thinking
how little chance their cockle-shell of a cutter would have, if she got
carried where near them, but they kept their thoughts to themselves, and
meanwhile the yacht was behaving like the beauty she was. Indeed she
seemed positively to enjoy rolling homewards over these great, green,
foam-crested seas; for she bobbed and she bowed to the waves; she
curtseyed to them and she coquetted with them as if she were indeed a
nymph of the sea and a flirt as well. Sometimes she would dip her
bowsprit into a wave, as if she meant to go down bows first, but in a
moment she had lifted her head again, and tossed the water saucily off,
ere ever it had time to reach the well; next she would flood the
lee-rail, and make the waves believe they could board her there, then
righting again in an instant, after a nod or two to the seas ahead, as
much as to say, "Please to observe what I shall do now," she would sink
herself right down by the stern, with the foam surging around her like a
boiling cauldron, but never admitted a drop. There were times though,
when she sank so far down in the trough of the sea that her sails began
to shiver, yet for all that she was uphill again in a second or two, and
scudding onwards as merrily as ever.
The seas were shorter in Loch Sunart, they were choppy in the Sound of
Mull, and seemed to get bigger and rougher every other mile of the
journey; the crew were not sorry, therefore, when the anchor was let go,
and the mainsail clewed, in the Bay of Oban.
"_Why_," said Ralph, after dinner that day, "we haven't had such a
tossing all the cruise. I declare to you, boys, that every bone of my
body aches from top to toe." McBain laughed.
"You ought to go out," he said, "for a few nights with the herring
boats."
"Is it rougher," queried Ralph, "than what we have already gone
through?"
"Ten times," replied McBain.
"Then, if you please," said Ralph, "don't send me. I'd rather be
excused, Captain McBain, I do assure you."
"And so our summer cruise is ended," said Allan, with something very
like a sigh.
"And haven't we enjoyed it too!" said Rory, who was lying on the sofa
locker, book in hand. "Troth, boys," he added, "I didn't notice, till
this very minute, that my book was upside down. It is dreaming I was
entirely. Oh! those, beautiful mountains of the Cuchullin, raising
their diamond tops into the summer air, with the purple haze beneath
them, and the blue sea flecked with white-winged birds! Scenery like
this I'll never get out of my head, and what is more I never wish to,
and if ever it does attempt to slip away, sure I've only to shut my eyes
and play that sweetest of old reveries, `Tha mi tinn leis a ghoal,' (The
Languor of Love), and it will all, all come back again."
"And we've had the very best of eating and drinking all the time, you
know," Ralph said.
"And it hasn't cost us much," added Allan.
Rory looked first at one and then at the other of his friends,
apparently more in sorrow than in anger; then he resumed his book, this
time with the right side up.
"I've been keeping tally," continued Allan, addressing himself more
particularly to McBain, "of all that our voyage has cost us, and taking
everything into consideration, I find that we couldn't have travelled
half so cheaply on shore, nor could we have lived as cheaply even at
home. We did not pay much for the cutter and all her fittings, and if
we had cared to do a little more fishing, and sent more boxes of
lobsters down with the southern steamers, I think we would positively
have made a good deal of profit."
"You are thoroughly practical," said Ralph; "I like you for that."
"Well, but," said Allan, half apologetically, "neither of us, you know,
is extra rich, and I think it is some satisfaction to look back to a
time spent most pleasantly and enjoyably, without either extra
expenditure, or--or--what shall I say?"
"Prodigality," suggested Ralph.
"That word will do," said Allan; "but I do declare I'm nearly half
asleep."
"I expect," said McBain, trying to repress a yawn, "that we will all
sleep to-night without rocking."
Two hours afterwards they _were_ all asleep, and the yacht rose and fell
gently on the rippling water, the moon shone over the mountains, making
the houses in the little town all look as if their walls were marble and
their slated roofs were burnished gold.
They would have gone right up Loch Linnhe, instead of calling at Oban,
only Rory wished to do a little extra varnishing and gilding before
their return, so they stopped here for two days.
Yes, there is no mistake about it, there was a commotion in and around
the old castle. As Allan and his friends came filing up the glen,
headed by Peter, who had gone to meet them with the bagpipes, in true
Highland fashion, I think the dogs were the first to hear the wild
joyous notes of the pibroch. Every one of them found his way out into
the courtyard; the inner gate of the drawbridge was closed, so Oscar and
Bran stood and barked at it, just as if that would open it; the smaller
dogs yapped at their heels, for whatsoever Bran and Oscar did, the
collie and Skyes followed suit; every feathered biped about the place
joined in the chorus, and then, for just a moment, there was a slight
lull, and Allan's favourite pony was heard laughing loud and shrill to
himself in the stables.
"Och! and och!" cried old Janet, rushing out to open the gate for the
dogs, "it's the happy day for old Yonish (Janet) and it's the happy day
for the whole of us. Go doggies, go craytures, and meet the dear
master!"
The dogs needed no pressing. Headed by Bran, with Oscar in the rear--
for these dogs always kept up a certain decorum in presence of the
others--out they rushed, and next moment Allan was in the midst of them.
He would not check them in their glee for all the world, but, with Bran
on one side of him, and Collie on the other, and all the Skyes dancing
round his feet, it must be confessed that for fully five minutes he had
rather a rough time of it. Oscar, after kissing his master on the ear,
picked off his hat, and trotted away back with it to the castle.
So Allan returned bareheaded, but laughing, to receive the affectionate
greetings of his mother and sister. But who is that tall, handsome,
elderly gentleman in company with the latter? You would have required
no answer to that question had you but seen the rich blood mantling in
Ralph's cheeks the moment he saw him, or marked the glad glitter in his
eyes. He seemed to clear the drawbridge at a couple of bounds.
"Father! father!"
"Ralph, boy!"
"Your runaway son," said Ralph, laughing.
"My sailor boy!" said his father, smiling in his turn.
Those last words made Ralph's heart bound with joy. He knew his father
well, and he knew when he said "my sailor boy" that he did not mean to
repent his promise anent the yacht.
Allan was talking to his mother and sister, Helen McGregor hanging on
his arm, and looking fondly up in his face.
But poor Irish Rory stood shyly by himself, close by the drawbridge
gate. At present there was nobody to speak to him; for the time being,
at all events, there was no one to bid him welcome back.
"Och!" he said to himself, with a sigh, "the never a father nor mother
have I. Sure I never remember feeling before that I was an orphan
entirely."
A big cold nose was thrust into his hand. Then a great dog rubbed its
shoulder with rough but genuine kindness against his legs. It was
Bran's mother, and her behaviour affected him so that he was almost
letting fall a tear on her honest head, when he suddenly spied old
Janet, and off went the cloud from his brow in a moment--and off went
he, to pump-shake the old lady by the hand, and vow to her that this was
the happiest day in his life.
And old Janet must needs wipe her eyes with her apron as she called him,
much to his amusement, "mo chree" and "mo ghoal" (love), and "the bonnie
boy that he was," and a hundred other flattering and endearing epithets,
that made Rory laugh and pump-shake her hand again, and feel on the
whole as merry as a cricket. But when Helen herself came running
towards him, and placed both her hands in his and welcomed him "home,"
then his cup of joy was about full, and he entirely forgot he was an
orphan. Then she dragged him over to her mother, and the first
greetings over--
"Isn't he sunburnt?" said Helen; "but do, mamma, look at Allan and his
friend."
"Well," said Allan, "what colour are we?"
"Oh, just like flower-pots," said Helen, laughing.
That same afternoon Allan was sitting talking to Rory in his "sulky,"
when in burst Ralph. He had just returned from a long walk with his
father, and he was looking all over joyous.
"Why, what do you think, boys?" he cried, rubbing his hands, and then
making believe to punch Allan in the ribs; "what do you think, old man?"
he added.
"Something very nice, I'll be bound," said Allan, "or staid steady Ralph
would not be so far off his balance."
"It is pleasant in the extreme," said Ralph, taking a seat in front of
them, "and so very unexpected too.
"Now guess what it is."
"Oh; but we can't, we never could," said his friends.
"Out with it, Ralph," cried Allan, "don't keep us in `tig-tire.'"
"Yes, don't be provoking, Ralph," added Rory.
"Well, then," said Ralph, speaking very slowly, just a word at a time,
"father--has--been--down--to Cowes--and--bought--"
"The yacht!" cried Allan, interrupting him. "Hurrah!"
"Just one moment, my boys," cried Rory. "I must blow off steam or I'll
burst." So saying, he seized his violin and commenced playing one of
the wildest, maddest Irish melodies ever they had listened to. You
might have called the air a jig, but there was a certain sadness in it,
as there is in even the merriest of Ireland's melodies; tenderness
breathed through every bar of it. You might have imagined while Rory
played that you saw his countrymen dancing at a wake, and heard even
their wild "Hooch!" but at the same time you could not help fancying you
saw the mourners crooning over the coffin, and heard the broken-hearted
wail of the coronach.
Both Allan and Ralph were pretty well used to all Rory's queer,
passionate, and impulsive ways, and so they always gave him what sailors
call "plenty of rope," and landsmen call "latitude."
When he had finished and quieted down, then did Ralph explain to his
friends all about the purchase of the yacht.
"Not a toy, mind you," he said, "a really first-rate seagoing
schooner-yacht, A1 at Lloyd's, and all that sort of thing. New only
three years ago, copper fastenings, wire rigging, and everything
complete."
"And what is her size?" said Allan.
"Oh?" said Ralph, "there is plenty of room to swing a cat in her, I can
assure you; she is nearly two hundred tons."
"Two hundred tons! why she'll take some managing, won't she?"
"Father says she will be as easily sailed with the crew we will have,
and with ordinary caution, as our little cutter yacht."
"Of course," said Rory, "we will have trial trips and all that sort of
thing."
"Ay, ay, lad," said Ralph; "but don't you imagine that my father will
trust this fine yacht in such juvenile hands as ours, without an
experienced sailing-master being on board."
"And I wonder who that will be," said Rory, "for you know we wouldn't
take to every stranger."
"Boys," said Allan, "I don't think we will have a stranger over us as
sailing-master. I can tell you a bit of a secret; or perhaps, Ralph,
you can guess it, if I ask you a question or two. Well, then, what do
you think McBain has been studying his Rosser so earnestly for these
last many months?"
"I have it," cried Rory, "sure he's going to take out a Board of Trade
certificate as master."
"You're right," said Allan, "and I think he could take one now even, for
he is well up in navigation. He is well up in logarithms, and a capital
arithmetician, I won't say mathematician, though he knows something of
mathematics as well. He can take his latitude and longitude, and can
lay the place of a vessel on the chart. He knows how to use his sextant
well, and can adjust it by the sun; he can take lunars and find his
latitude by a star, and he knows everything about compasses and
chronometers, and mind you that is saying a good deal. And he can
observe azimuths too, and he knows many things more that I can't tell
you about; he says himself he can work a day's work well, and I for one
wouldn't mind sailing anywhere with him; but he doesn't mean going up
yet for three months. McBain may be slow, but he is sure."
"And we know," said Rory, "he can pass in seamanship."
"I should think he could," said Allan; "in that respect I'm proud of my
foster-father; he can make sail and take it in, and work a ship in the
stormiest weather; he can secure a mast, or cut one adrift, and he can
rig a jury, and I needn't tell you he knows all about the lead and the
log-line. Oh yes, he is a thorough seaman, and he is well up in
something else too, which I don't think the Board of Trade ever think of
examining people on. He is a good weather prognosticator; he knows the
signs of the clouds, and from which direction the wind is likely to
blow, and by looking at the sea he can tell you the wind's force, and
whether the sea is going down or rising, and also the rate the ship is
going at. Nor is the barometer a mere toy with him, it is a friend in
need, and positively seems to speak to him. Well, boys, what else would
you have? He is a sailor every inch, and dearly loves the sea; he tells
me, too, he can sleep like a sailor."
"How should a sailor sleep?" asked Ralph.
"Why, with one eye open, figuratively speaking," replied Allan. "He
ought to be able to sleep soundly through all natural and legitimate
noises. He ought to know the position of the ship before he lies down,
how her head is, what sail she carries, how the wind is, and how it is
likely to be, and whether the glass is rising, falling, or steady. With
this knowledge, commending himself to the kind God who rules and governs
all things, his slumbers will be deeper and sweeter, I do verily
believe, than any that ever a landsman knows. Rocked in the cradle of
the deep, the creaking of the ship's rudder will not awake him, nor the
labouring of her timbers, nor the dull thud of striking seas, nor the
howling of the wind itself; but let anything go wrong, let a sail carry
away, ay, or a rope itself, or let her ship more water than she ought to
with a good man at the wheel, then your sailor awakes, and very likely
his head will appear above the companion hatch about five seconds
afterwards."
"Allan," said Rory, "you're quite eloquent. Troth, it strikes me you're
a sailor yourself, every inch of you."
"I should like to be," said Allan, earnestly.
"And so should we all," said Rory; "but, Ralph, dear boy," he added,
"where is this yacht? Where is the _Snowbird_?"
"She is called the _Sappho_ at present," replied Ralph, "and she is
safely in dock at Dundee."
"Dundee?" exclaimed Rory, in some amazement.
"Yes, Dundee," repeated Ralph; "that is the place to fit out ships for
the far north. You see, she'll want an extra skin on her to withstand
the ice, and she must be fortified, strongly fortified in the bows,
inside with wood and outside with iron. Father told me all about it.
Father is very clever."
"And I know he is very, very good," said Rory; "but did you tell him
where we purposed cruising?"
"I did, of course," replied Ralph; "that was the reason he sent the
yacht to be fortified. In my very last letter I explained all our hopes
and wishes to him."
"And what does he say?"
"Why, that an English gentleman, with youth on his side, ought to be
able to go anywhere and do anything."
"Bravely spoken," cried Allan.
"Bravely indeed," said Ralph; "but father added that in this great
cruise of ours we must not be rash."
"We will look upon that wish of your father's," said Allan, "as a sacred
command, never to be broken."
"That will we," said Rory, enthusiastically.
"And he advised us, when thoroughly fitted and ready for sea, not to go
right up icewards all at once, but to take Shetland on our way."
"That would indeed be nice," said Rory. "I'll warrant we'll find many
things well worth seeing in both places."
"Yes," said Ralph, "and he says we should then bear up for Baffin's Bay,
and not attempt the far northern ice till we have done some exploring
there, and got acclimatised, and well versed in the knowledge and nature
of the ice. `Working a ship,' he says, `among ice is very different
from ordinary seamanship.' But look, there is father down in the
courtyard, playing with the dogs. Let us all go down and join him."