"Perhaps I have! Loch Scavaig is sufficient setting for any amount of
ghosts. It's such a lonely place,"--and a slight tremor ran through me
as I played a few soft chords--"What shall I sing to you?"
"Something of the country we are in,"--said Mr. Harland--"Don't you
know any of those old wild Gaelic airs?"
I thought a moment, and then to a low rippling accompaniment I sang the
old Celtic 'Fairy's Love Song'--
"Why should I sit and sigh,
Pu'in' bracken, pu'in' bracken,
Why should I sit and sigh,
On the hill-side dreary--
When I see the plover rising,
Or the curlew wheeling,
Then I know my mortal lover
Back to me is stealing.
When the day wears away
Sad I look adown the valley,
Every sound heard around
Sets my heart a-thrilling,--
Why should I sit and sigh,
Pu'in' bracken, pu'in' bracken,
Why should I sit and sigh
All alone and weary!
Ah, but there is something wanting,
Oh but I am weary!
Come, my true and tender lover,
O'er the hills to cheer me!
Why should I sit and sigh,
Pu'in' bracken, pu'in' bracken,
Why should I sit and sigh,
All alone and weary!"
I had scarcely finished the last verse when Captain Derrick suddenly
appeared at the door of the saloon in a great state of excitement.
"Come out, Mr. Harland!" he almost shouted--"Come quickly, all of you!
There's that strange yacht again!"
I rose from my seat at the piano trembling a little--at last!--I
thought--at last! My heart was beating tumultuously, though I could not
explain my own emotion to myself. In another moment we were all
standing speechless and amazed, gazing at surely the most wonderful
sight that had ever been seen by human eyes. There on the dark and
lonely waters of Loch Scavaig was poised, rather than anchored, the
fairy vessel of my dreams, with all sails spread,--sails that were
white as milk and seemingly drenched with a sparkling dewy radiance,
for they scintillated like hoar-frost in the sun and glittered against
the sombre background of the mountainous shore with an almost blinding
splendour. Our whole crew of sailors and servants on the 'Diana' came
together in astonished groups, whispering among themselves, all
evidently more or less scared by the strange spectacle. Captain Derrick
waited for someone to hazard a remark, then, as we remained silent, he
addressed Mr. Harland--
"Well, sir, what do you make of it?"
Mr. Harland did not answer. For a man who professed indifference to all
events and circumstances he seemed startled for once and a little
afraid. Catherine caught me by the arm,--she was shivering nervously.
"Do you think it is a REAL yacht?" she whispered.
I was amused at this question, coming as it did from a woman who denied
the supernatural.
"Of course it is!" I answered--"Don't you see people moving about on
board?"
For, in the brilliant light shed by those extraordinary sails, the
schooner appeared to be fully manned. Several of the crew were busy on
her deck and there was nothing of the phantom in their movements.
"Her sails must surely be lit up in that way by electricity"--said Dr.
Brayle, who had been watching her attentively--"But how it is done and
why, is rather puzzling! I never saw anything quite to resemble it."
"She came into the loch like a flash,"--said Captain Derrick--"I saw
her slide in round the point, and then without a sound of any kind,
there she was, safe anchored before you could whistle. She behaved in
just the same way when we first sighted her off Mull."
I listened to what they were saying, impatiently wondering what would
be the end of their surmises and speculations.
"Why not exchange courtesies?" I said, suddenly,--"Here we are--two
yachts anchored near each other in a lonely lake,--why should we not
know each other? Then all the mysteries you are talking about would be
cleared up."
"Quite true!" said Mr. Harland, breaking his silence at last--"But
isn't it rather late to pay a call? What time is it?"
"About half-past ten,"--answered Dr. Brayle, glancing at his watch.
"Oh, let us get to bed!" murmured Miss Catherine, pleadingly--"What's
the good of making any enquiries to-night?"
"Well, if you don't make them to-night ten to one you won't have the
chance to-morrow!"--said Captain Derrick, bluntly--"That yacht will
repeat her former manoeuvres and vanish at sunrise."
"As all spectres are traditionally supposed to do!" said Dr. Brayle,
lighting a cigarette as he spoke and beginning to smoke it with a
careless air--"I vote for catching the ghost before it melts away into
the morning."
While this talk went on Mr. Harland stepped back into the saloon and
wrote a note which he enclosed in a sealed envelope. With this in his
hand he came out to us again.
"Captain, will you get the boat lowered, please?" he said--then, as
Captain Derrick hastened to obey this order, he turned to his
secretary:--"Mr. Swinton, I want you to take this note to the owner of
that yacht, whoever he may be, with my compliments. Don't give it to
anyone else but himself."
Mr. Swinton, looking very pale and uncomfortable, took the note
gingerly between his fingers.
"Himself--yes!"--he stammered--"And--er--if there should be no one--"
"What do you mean?" and Mr. Harland frowned in his own particularly
unpleasant way--"There's sure to be SOMEONE, even if he were the devil!
You can say to him that the ladies of our party are very much
interested in the beautiful illumination of his yacht, and that we'll
be glad to see him on board ours, if he cares to come. Be as polite as
you can, and as agreeable as you like."
"It has not occurred to you--I suppose you have not thought--that--that
it may be an illusion?" faltered Mr. Swinton, uneasily, glancing at the
glistening sails that shamed the silver sheen of the moon--"A sort of
mirage in the atmosphere--"
Mr. Harland gave vent to a laugh--the heartiest I had ever heard from
him.
"Upon my word, Swinton!" he exclaimed--"I should never have thought you
capable of nerves! Come, come!--be off with you! The boat is
lowered--all's ready!"
Thus commanded, there was nothing for the reluctant Mr. Swinton but to
obey, and I could not help smiling at his evident discomfiture. All his
precise and matter-of-fact self-satisfaction was gone in a moment,--he
was nothing but a very timorous creature, afraid to examine into what
he could not at once understand. No such terrors, however, were
displayed by the sailors who undertook to row him over to the yacht.
They, as well as their captain, were anxious to discover the mystery,
if mystery there was,--and we all, by one instinct, pressed to the
gangway as he descended the companion ladder and entered the boat,
which glided away immediately with a low and rhythmical plash of oars.
We could watch it as it drew nearer and nearer the illuminated vessel,
and our excitement grew more and more intense. For once Mr. Harland and
his daughter had forgotten all about themselves,--and Catherine's
customary miserable expression of face had altogether disappeared in
the keenness of her interest for something more immediately thrilling
than her own ailments. So far as I was concerned, I could hardly endure
the suspense that seemed to weigh on every nerve of my body during the
few minutes' interval that elapsed between the departure of the boat
and its drawing up alongside the strange yacht. My thoughts were all in
a whirl,--I felt as if something unprecedented and almost terrifying
was about to happen,--but I could not reason out the cause of my mental
agitation.
"There they go!" said Mr. Harland--"They're alongside! See!--those
fellows are lowering the companion ladder--there's nothing supernatural
about THEM! Swinton's all right--look, he's on board!"
We strained our eyes through the brilliant flare shed by the
illuminated sails on the darkness and could see Mr. Swinton talking to
a group of sailors. One of them went away, but returned almost
immediately, followed by a man clad in white yachting flannels, who,
standing near one of the shining sails, caught some of the light on his
own figure with undeniably becoming effect. I was the first to perceive
him, and as I looked, the impression came upon me that he was no
stranger,--I had seen him often before. This sudden consciousness
swiftly borne in upon me calmed all the previous tumult of my mind and
I was no longer anxious as to the result of our possible acquaintance.
Catherine Harland pressed my arm excitedly.
"There he is!" she said--"That must be the owner of the yacht. He's
reading father's letter."
He was,--we could see the little sheet of paper turning over in his
hands. And while we waited, wondering what would be his answer, the
light on the sails of his vessel began to pale and die away,--beam
after beam of radiance slipped off as it were like drops of water, and
before we could quite realise it there was darkness where all had
lately been so bright; and the canvas was hauled down. With the
quenching of that intense brilliancy we lost sight of the human figures
on deck and could not imagine what was to happen next. The dark shore
looked darker than ever,--the outline of the yacht was now truly
spectral, like a ship of black cobweb against the moon, and we looked
questioningly at each other in silence. Then Mr. Harland spoke in a low
tone.
"The boat is coming back,"--he said,--"I hear the oars."
I leaned over the side of our vessel and tried to see through the
gloom. How still the water was!--not a ripple disturbed its surface.
But there were strange gleams of wandering light in its depths like
dropped jewels lost on sands far below. The regular dip of oars sounded
nearer and nearer. My heart was beating with painful quickness,--I
could not understand the strange feeling that overpowered me. I felt as
if my very soul were going out of my body to meet that oncoming boat
which was cleaving its way through the darkness. Another brief interval
and then we saw it shoot out into a patch of moonlight--we could
perceive Mr. Swinton seated in the stern with another figure beside
him--that of a man who stood up as he neared our yacht and lifted his
cap with an easy gesture of salutation, and then as the boat came
alongside, caught at the guide rope and sprang lightly on the first
step of the companion ladder.
"Why, he's actually come over to us himself!" ejaculated Mr.
Harland,--and he hurried to the gangway just in time to receive the
visitor as he stepped on deck.
"Well, Harland, how are you?" said a mellow voice in the cheeriest of
accents--"It's strange we should meet like this after so many years!"