The day after leaving the Clyde, we were coasting along the not very
attractive-looking island of Islay, inhabited by the Macdonalds. It was
often the scene of forays, which one clan was wont to make on another,
in the good old days, as people delight to call them, when the ancestors
of the present race were scarcely more civilised than the South Sea
islanders. Though rock-girt, Islay is fertile, and a large portion has
been brought under a state of cultivation.
A fair breeze, with the tide in our favour, carried us through the sound
between the islands of Islay and Jura, the broadest part of which is
about a mile in width, and is lined by abrupt but not very high cliffs.
More than a century ago, Islay received a visit from the French Admiral
Thurot; and a few years later Paul Jones made a descent on the island,
and captured a packet which had on board a Major Campbell, a native
gentleman, who had just returned with an independence from India, the
larger portion of which he unfortunately had with him in gold and
jewels, of which, as may be supposed, the American privateer relieved
him. In later years another American privateer, "the true-blooded
Yankee," captured a considerable number of merchant vessels at anchor in
Port Charlotte.
We anchored at nightfall in a deep bay at the southern end of Colonsay,
called Toulgoram. A narrow strait divides that little island from the
still smaller one of Oronsay.
Next morning, before sailing, we pulled across the strait, which is dry
at low water, and visited a ruined priory of considerable extent and
tolerably entire. We saw also many other ruins of abbeys or
monasteries; indeed, the monks must have been almost as numerous as the
rabbits, which we saw running about in all directions. The wind still
favouring us, we steered for the western end of Mull, and in a short
time came in sight of its lofty cliffs; while we could see in the
distance astern the peaked mountains of Jura and the island of Scarba,
between which lies the whirlpool of Corryvrechan, a place we had no
desire to visit. In stormy weather, when the tides rush through the
passage, a regular whirlpool is formed, which would prove the
destruction of any vessels attempting to pass that way. Standing on a
height above it, the waters are seen to leap, and bound, and tumble,
then whirling along as over a precipice, then dashed together with
inconceivable impetuosity, sometimes rising in a foaming mass to a
prodigious height, and then opening and forming a vast abyss, while the
roar of troubled waters as they strike against the rocky shore is heard
far and wide.
We reached Iona in ample time to take a walk around the island. This
was the island on which the so called Saint Columba lived. It is about
three miles long, and one wide, and the most lofty hill is not more than
four hundred feet in height. The remains show that the nunneries and
monasteries Columba established were of a very rude kind. It was looked
upon as a holy island, and many kings and chiefs were buried there.
Macbeth was the last king of Scotland who had that honour paid him.
Opposite the cathedral we saw a beautiful cross, carved in high relief.
It had fallen down, but had been replaced on a basement of granite.
The next place of interest before which we brought-up was the island of
Staffa. We could see in the distance the islands of Coll and Tiree.
The latter, only about a mile and a half in circumference, rises out of
the ocean to the height of about one hundred and forty-four feet.
Before landing we sailed along the eastern shore, examining the
wonderful caves and the fine colonnades which form its sides. One might
suppose that it was rather a work of art than thrown up by Nature. The
yachts were hove-to, and we pulled off to examine the caves in the
boats. One is known as the Clam Shell Cave, another as the Herdsman's
Cave, and a third is denominated the Great Colonnade and Causeway. Then
there comes the Boat Cave, and Mackinnon's Cave, and lastly, the most
magnificent of all, Fingal's Cave. Into this we at once rowed. I
scarcely know how to describe it. On either side are lofty columns,
mostly perpendicular, and remarkably regular, varying from two to four
feet in diameter. The height of this wonderful cavern is sixty-six feet
near the entrance, but it decreases to twenty-two feet at the further
end; it is two hundred and twenty-seven feet long, and forty-two wide.
At one side is a causeway formed of the remains of broken columns, upon
which people can walk to the very end. We next pulled into what is
called the Boat Cave, where columns are even more regular than in
Fingal's Cave, but it is much smaller. Our last visit was to
Mackinnon's Cave; its sides are perfectly smooth, it is about fifty feet
high, and forty-eight broad, the roof being almost flat. We pulled on
for two hundred and twenty-four feet, until we reached a beach of
pebbles at the further end, when we appeared to be in a vast hall.
Several places, where the tops of the columns crop up, have the
appearance of a tesselated pavement.
A steady breeze carried us in sight of Ardnamurchan, when, steering to
the east, standing close to the sea-coast, we passed Castle Mingary, the
battlemented walls of which presented no opening. A few miles further
on we came to an anchor in the snug harbour of Tobermory. It is a very
picturesque village, situated at the foot of hills which run round the
bay. We were told that one of the ships of the Invincible Armada, the
Florida, was sunk in the bay by something resembling a torpedo,
manufactured by a renowned witch who lived in those days on Mull. She
was instigated to the deed by the wife of Maclean of Duart. The lady
had become jealous of a fair princess, who was voyaging on board the
Florida, and had fallen in love with her lord. It is asserted that the
Spanish damsel was a daughter of the King of Spain; and having dreamed
that a young gentleman of engaging appearance had invited her to become
his bride, was sailing round the world in search of him, when, on seeing
Maclean, he seemed to be the creature of her fancy.
Sailing from Tobermory, bound for the western coast of Skye, we passed
the island of Muck, an unpleasant-sounding name. To the north is the
curious island of Eig, the southern side of which is perfectly flat, but
in the north rises a lofty perpendicular rock, called the Scuir of Eig.
Within it is a large cavern, which was the scene of one of those
atrocious acts in "the good old days" when might made right. Two
hundred Macdonalds, fugitives from a superior number of Macleods, had
taken refuge in the cavern, when, unfortunately for them, one of their
party, having left the mark of his footsteps in the snow, their place of
concealment was betrayed. The Macleods filled up the mouth of the
cavern with wood and dried sea-weed, and setting it on fire, literally
smoked them to death. One of the Macdonalds being connected by marriage
with the Macleods, was offered permission to crawl out on his hands and
knees, and to bring out four others along with him in safety; but having
selected a friend hated by the Macleods, who refused to spare the man's
life, he preferred to suffer death with his clansmen than to live on
without them. Until quite a late period, the bones of the ill-fated
Macdonalds were still to be seen lying near the entrance. Say what we
will in favour of the Highlanders, they were a fearfully savage people
in those days.
The part of the Highlands amid which we were sailing was the scene of
many of the Pretender's adventures. Had not Prince Charles been an
excellent climber, he would not have escaped his enemies, when they were
hunting him like a hare. They nearly entrapped him in one of the many
rock fastnesses in which he took shelter.
We passed along these coasts a continual succession of caves and wild
rocks, presenting the appearance of ruined castles, Gothic arches,
buttresses, towers, and gateways; others again having a curious
resemblance to faces, profiles, even ships under sail.
Passing the Point of Sleat, at the southern end of Skye, we sailed up
the wild and grand Loch Scavaig. Rising up abruptly from the water are
rugged mountains of a dark and gloomy aspect,--the bare rocks alone are
seen without a particle of vegetation. Their metallic appearance arises
from their being composed of a mineral called hypersthene. On either
side rose sharp peaks, one called the Shouting Mountain, another the
Notched Peak; while a small island at the foot of another height, called
the Hill of Dispute, goes by the name of the Island of the
Slippery-Step. From its appearance no one would wish to land there.
Not a tree was to be seen.
"The essence of savagedom!" cried Uncle Tom.
"Well, grand; yes, very grand!" exclaimed Oliver; "but I'd rather not
live here."
"I shouldn't like to be on shore there during an earthquake!" cried
Dick. "A fellow would chance to have his head broken if those mountains
should begin to tumble about."
An artist who came here is said to have thrown away his pencil in
despair; but it is still more difficult to give a description of the
place in words. Having selected a spot for anchoring, with the help of
a fisherman who acted as our pilot, we pulled on shore, and making our
way over about four hundred yards of rock by the side of a small stream,
we reached the dark fresh water Loch Coruisk, round which rose a circle
of gigantic barren mountains of purple hue. On this side the sun was
shining brightly, lighting up the pointed crags, while the other was
thrown into the deepest shade.
"I shouldn't like to find myself here in the evening, without knowing my
way out!" exclaimed Dick. "I wonder how the clouds manage to get over
those tall peaks."
Dick might have wondered, for several of them are nearly three thousand
feet in height; and on the topmost, called the Black Peak, probably no
human foot has ever trod.
"Just give a shout, sir," said the fisherman, who, having been on board
a man-of-war in his youth, spoke English. As he uttered the words he
gave a loud hail, the echo coming back with wonderful distinctness. We
all followed his example, and it seemed as if a thousand people were all
shouting together in chorus,--the sound at length dying away, apparently
many a mile off. Dick then began to laugh, and immediately a laugh came
back, which set us all laughing, and a curious chorus we had, till our
jaws began to ache from over-exertion.
We then made our way out of this wild region, not sorry to get on board,
and to dive down into the comfortable cabin of the Dolphin, where dinner
was waiting us. Still, although everything was familiar round us in the
confined space of the yacht's cabin, so deeply impressed on my vision
was the grand wild scene outside, that I could not help viewing it over
the sides and back of the vessel, and I never for one moment lost the
consciousness of where we were.
We remembered that it was at Coruisk that Bruce encountered Cormack
Doil. Sir Walter Scott makes him say:
"A scene so wild, so rude as this,
Yet so sublime in barrenness,
Ne'er did my wandering footsteps press,
Where'er I happ'd to roam."
At dawn next morning we left this wild bay, not without regret, though
Dick declared that he felt much happier when he was once more on the
open sea. We then sailed along the western coast of Skye, looking into
many other places (which, if not so wild and grand, were highly
picturesque), until we reached Dunvegan Loch; and making our way amid
several small islands, we came to an anchor a short distance from the
castle, and took to the boat. The castle stands on a rock projecting
into the water, protected by a stream on one side and a moat on the
other, and before conical shot were invented must have been a very
strong place. Though it retains much of its ancient and imposing
appearance, it is still in perfect repair, and is of great extent. It
belongs to Macleod of Macleod, whose father and grandfather expended
large sums in making it one of the most comfortable residences in the
Western Highlands. On the side next the sea is a low wall, pierced with
embrasures, while a handsome centre building is also surmounted by
battlements. There are two towers, one of which the steward, who
politely showed us over the castle, said was built in the ninth century,
and the other was added in the thirteenth. Doctor Johnson paid this
castle a visit, and was hospitably received by the laird.
We were shown the drinking-horn of Sir Roderick Macleod, an ancestor of
the family, and the remains of a "fairy flag," made of stout yellow
silk, which used to be unfurled when the tide of battle was turning
against the Macleods, and which always had the effect of again turning
it in their favour.
Again getting under weigh, we sailed round the northern end of Skye, up
the Sound of Raasay, between the small island of that name and Skye, to
Portree. It stands on the end of a point of land, far up a deep
harbour, and is a picturesque-looking place.
Here we had a long discussion as to our future proceedings. It was
finally settled that Uncle Tom should sail round the north of Scotland
in the Dolphin, while we were to go south again, and through the
Caledonian Canal, waiting for him off Fort George, at the mouth of the
Moray Firth.
Early in the morning we sailed with the Dolphin, to accompany her as far
as the Island of Rona, to the north of Raasay, where we looked into a
curious little loch, at the head of which is a farm-house. The owner--
as is the case with most people residing on that shore--had been a
seafaring man. He had gone away to Skye, and was expected back by his
loving wife, when a furious gale arose. To light him on his way, she
had been accustomed to place a large lamp in the window of the cottage,
which looked down on the loch. On that night she trimmed it with double
care. In vain, however, she sat and watched; hour after hour passed by
as she waited, expecting to hear her husband's cheerful voice as he came
on shore, calling out to her amid the howling storm; but in vain she
watched. Day dawned, and the little vessel had not reached her
accustomed moorings. The next night her lamp was lighted as usual.
When the storm abated, tidings came that portions of a wrecked vessel
had been picked up on the shore; but she hoped against hope that it
might not be her husband's craft. Still, though he came not, she
lighted the lamp. Night after night, and month after month, that bright
light streamed forth from the solitary cottage on the beach; and many a
storm-tossed vessel owed its safety to that unpretending beacon. At
length the Scottish Commissioners of Lighthouses heard of this volunteer
lighthouse. An annual sum of money was voted for its support, and the
widow received a lamp with reflectors, with a supply of oil to keep her
lamp burning. The commissioners paid her and her family a visit; and,
though years have passed, that lamp burns as brightly as ever.
As papa wished Oliver to see the Caledonian Canal, he had returned on
board the Lively. We now parted from the Dolphin, saluting each other
with loud cheers; and while she sailed northward, with the wind on the
beam, we steered south through the broad passage which separates Raasay
from the mainland.
"I'll tell you all about the northern coast and John o' Groat's House;
and you shall give me an account of the canal, though I don't envy you,"
shouted Jack, as we parted.
The wind sometimes headed us, but we saw more of the coast until,
passing Applecross, we reached the Island of Scalpa. We then had a fair
wind past Loch Carron to Loch Alsh, which lies between one end of Skye
and the mainland. Steering due east, we ran through it, and then again
had to haul up to pass through the narrow channel which separates the
south end of Skye from the main.
Hauling our wind, we stood through a very narrow passage, and entered
Sleat Sound, a broad expanse, when once more we had Eig in sight on our
starboard bow, and passed the entrance to numerous lochs, many of them,
like Loch Hourn and Loch Nevish, between lofty mountains. Passing Muck
and then Ardnamurchan on our port side, we entered Loch Sunart. Running
by Tobermory with the wind nearly aft, we entered the Sound of Mull,
which carried us into Loch Linnhe, opposite the Island of Lismore. Just
opposite to us, on the south end of the island, we saw Auchindown
Castle, a lofty square building on the top of a rock rising out of the
sea, which was once in possession of the Bishops of Argyle and the
Isles, but which is much more like a castle than an episcopal residence.
Standing on, with the wind on our port beam, we ran up Loch Linnhe,
passing the entrance to Loch Leven, near to which is the Pass of
Glencoe, where, as every one knows, Mac Ian, the chief of the Macdonalds
of Glencoe, with a number of his family and followers, was treacherously
murdered by Campbell of Glen Lyon, and a party of military under his
command.
It was dark when we reached Fort William, at the head of Loch Linnhe,
though the water still ran a long way, turning to the left and forming
Loch Eil. This loch gives its name to a branch of the Camerons, to
which belonged one of the most redoubtable opponents of Cromwell in the
Highlands--Sir Ewan Cameron. In consequence, the Protector built a fort
at Inverloch, which in King William's reign was greatly enlarged,
receiving the name of Fort William.
Beyond the fort to the eastward we saw Ben Nevis, while to the north was
the entrance to the Caledonian Canal. Not far off from Loch Eil is Loch
Shiel, at the head of which is the spot where, on the 19th of August,
1745, Prince Charles Edward unfurled his standard, when he made the
audacious attempt to win the crown which his ancestor had forfeited. On
that occasion the then Lord of Lochiel headed seven hundred of the clan
Camerons, who with three hundred of the Macdonnells formed the chief
part of the hapless band. Of course, they thought themselves very fine
fellows, and were so, in one sense, though terribly mistaken; and had
they succeeded they would have brought ruin and misery on the country.
A monument was erected on the spot, some years ago, by one of the
Macdonnells, and a bronze tablet on it records what took place.
As soon as daylight broke we went on shore, and walked to the old castle
of Inverlochy. It stands above the river, and consists of four large
round towers connected by high walls, forming an extensive quadrangle.
The greater part is entire; indeed, the walls being ten feet thick are
calculated to stand for ages. A moat surrounds the walls. The
principal entrance is on the south-east side, and directly opposite it
is a sally-port. Above the gateway was a guard-room, defended by iron
gates and a heavy portcullis.
Below its frowning towers, the Marquis of Montrose defeated the Duke of
Argyle, in the year 1645. It was just when the first rays of the sun
shot athwart Ben Nevis, that, having led his men across pathless wilds
covered deep with snow, he pounced down on the astonished Campbells, who
were driven back in confusion, when numbers were slaughtered or drowned
in the waters of Loch Eil. Of the latter, fifteen hundred men fell;
while only three of Montrose's soldiers were killed, and one officer
wounded.
As soon as we got back we made sail; and no other vessel impeding us, we
entered the basin of Bannavie, from which a series of eight locks,
called Neptune's Staircase, raised us to the level of Loch Lochy. It
was rather tiresome, though at the same time interesting work, to see
the yacht lifted gradually up step by step, while the water rushed down
from the lock above to raise that on which we floated to its own level.
Whoever first thought of such a contrivance deserves great credit.
As the wind was perfectly fair, we sailed along the canal for about
eight miles without any impediment. It is deep and broad, and would
allow a very much larger vessel than our little yacht to pass through
it. It was on the banks of the river Lochy that a body of King George's
soldiers first encountered the Macdonnells of Glengarry, who were up in
arms for Charles Edward, when the former, being greatly overpowered, had
to yield themselves prisoners.
Soon after entering the lake, we came off the house of Achnacarry, the
mansion of Lochiel, on the northern side. The mountains on the south
side extended nearly the whole distance of the lake without any break,
while those on the other are rent by numerous gullies. The ground,
though covered with heather, had few trees to ornament it. We were
quite sorry when, in about an hour and a half, we had again to enter the
canal, which quickly carried us into the small, pretty Loch Oich. We
passed two or three islets decked with trees, which greatly embellish
them. On the north side the mountains of Glengarry shot up in a
succession of high and bold peaks. Below them is the castle of
Invergarry, standing on a rock overlooking the waters of the loch.
The last Glengarry who claimed to be the Lord of the Isles, instead of
Lord Macdonald of Sleat, resided here, and did his utmost to keep up the
recollection of former days by his mode of life. On his death his
property was bought by Lord Ward.
We passed a curious monument raised by the last Glengarry over what is
known as the "Well of the Seven Heads." It consists of a pyramid, with
seven human heads carved in stone placed on the summit. The story is
that two sons of Keppoch, a branch of the Macdonalds, having been sent
to be educated in France, their affairs were managed by seven brothers,
who, on the return of the young men, murdered them, in order that they
might continue in possession of their property. The old family bard,
discovering the bloody act, applied to the Glengarry of those days for
assistance; and having been furnished with a body of men, caught the
assassins, and cut off their heads, which, after having washed in the
spring, he presented to the noble chief in Glengarry Castle.
Just before leaving Loch Oich we passed Aberchalder, an
unpretending-looking house, where the forces of Prince Charles assembled
before crossing Corryarrick. We soon reached Fort Augustus, when we
descended by some locks into Loch Ness, where, on account of the depth
of water, we had to anchor close to the shore, with warps made fast to
some trees, to prevent our drifting away. As there was nothing to see
at Fort Augustus, the garrison having been removed, we did not go on
shore.
At an early hour the next morning we got under weigh, and glided down
Loch Ness, which is twenty-four miles long, and about a mile and a
quarter broad, although it is narrower in some places. The depth is
very great, in some parts one hundred and thirty fathoms. In
consequence of this the water seldom freezes in the loch. The rugged
and heath-covered mountains rise on either side to the height of about a
thousand feet; and frequently we saw growing on them forests of oak,
ash, elm, and other trees, with a thick underwood of hazel and holly
intermingled with a profusion of wild roses.
About midway we passed the lofty dome of Mealfourvournie, rising in
solitary grandeur to the height of upwards of four thousand feet. Here
there were tracts of cultivated ground; and in the openings of Glen
Urquhart and Glenmoriston we came in sight of fields and
substantial-looking houses. A few miles further we passed under a
magnificent precipice crowned by pines. Not far distant we came to the
House of Foyers, where we landed and hurried up the glen to the falls.
We got down to the bottom of the perpendicular cliffs, over which we
could see a large volume of water rushing with headlong force and speed,
bubbling, foaming, and roaring into the channel which leads to the loch.
Above us was a bridge thrown across the chasm, while the mountain sides
were clothed with graceful birch and other trees. We had brought a copy
of Burns, whose lines on the subject begin:
"Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Foyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where through a shapeless breach his stream resounds."
which describe the falls far better than I can do.
Hurrying back, we continued our voyage. We passed the mouth of the deep
denied Inverfarigaig, with the black rock resembling a ruin above it,
and further on Urquhart Castle, built on a detached rock overlooking the
loch, the most conspicuous object being a strong square keep, surmounted
by four turrets. The banks of the loch now appeared far more cultivated
than at the other end. Sailing through little Loch Dochfour, we again
entered the canal, which runs down into Loch Beauly; while the river
Ness, which we had on our right side, falls into the Moray Firth, close
to Inverness, which stands on a plain about a mile off.
It was curious to be looking from the deck of our yacht down on the loch
so far below us, while we could see on either side of the town the
far-famed battlefield of Culloden, where Prince Charles and his hapless
followers were so signally defeated by the Duke of Cumberland.
Descending the locks at Muirtown, we could see in the far distance,
guarding the entrance to the upper part of the mouth of the Moray Firth,
the walls of Fort George extending out into the blue water. On reaching
the ocean level, we at once made sail, standing for Inverness. By the
time we dropped our anchor it was dark, so that we did not go on shore
until the following morning. We then took a ramble round the town.
It stands on both sides of the river, across which a handsome stone
bridge is thrown, but the finer portion is on the east side. The
monasteries and churches were mostly knocked to pieces by Oliver
Cromwell; but a good many fine buildings have been erected of late
years, one of the most important of which is the Academy.
Inverness has always been a place of importance, and from its situation
has a considerable trade. It was looked upon also as the capital of the
north of Scotland. The inhabitants were staunch Jacobites, and very
much inclined to be lawless, though at the present day they are as
peaceably disposed as any in the country. Expecting to encounter
stalwart Highlanders in kilts, with dirks by their sides, we were
disappointed to meet only staid-looking burghers and labouring men, in
the ordinary dress of the present day.
There was a castle, built by Cromwell to overawe the turbulent
inhabitants, but it was pulled down, and the inhabitants had erected
many of their houses with the materials. We, however, took a walk over
the ramparts, which still remain. Here Queen Mary had her quarters for
some time, protected by the clansmen of Frazer, Mackenzie, Munroe, and
others, who kept the garrison of the castle in awe.
Far more interesting is an account we obtained of the Caledonian Canal,
which may truly be said to make an island of Sutherland, Caithness,
Cromarty, Rosshire, and a part of Inverness. The canal was designed by
Watt, as far back as 1773; but the present work was not commenced until
the year 1804, when Telford was directed to make a report on the
subject. By his plan the canal was to be one hundred and ten feet wide
at the surface and fifty feet at the bottom, and the depth of water
twenty feet; so that a thirty-two gun frigate of that day, fully
equipped and laden with stores, could pass through it. The works,
however, were carried out on more moderate proportions. There are
twenty-eight locks, each one hundred and seventy feet long and forty
feet wide, with an average lift of eight feet. Some of the lock gates
are of timber, and others are of cast-iron, sheathed with pine planking.
The summit level is in Loch Oich, into which pour a number of streams,
supplying an abundance of water for both sides. It stands exactly one
hundred feet above high-water mark at Inverness. The extreme length
from sea to sea is sixty and a half miles; and so direct is the
continuity of the lakes that a line drawn across from point to point
would only exceed the distance by rather more than three miles. There
are twenty-two miles of canal cutting, and thirty-eight and a half miles
of lake water is made available for the canal.
We found passing through the lakes the pleasantest part of the voyage.
We might have been many days doing the distance, had we not had a
favourable breeze. The wind changed directly after we reached
Inverness, of which we were very glad, as it gave us some hopes of soon
meeting the Dolphin, which we feared must have been detained off John o'
Groat's House.
We made several trips down to Fort George, to look out for the Dolphin.
At length one evening, having stood further down the Firth and looking
into Cromarty, made classic by having been the scene of many of Hugh
Miller's rambles, we caught sight of a small white sail, shining
brightly in the rays of the setting sun. Papa, taking the glass, looked
steadily at her, and then, to our great satisfaction, declared his
belief that she was the Dolphin. We immediately tacked towards her, and
in a short time heard Uncle Tom's cheerful hail across the water. We
immediately hove-to, and the Dolphin doing the same, papa and I pulled
on board her. They were in good spirits, although they had begun to
think that they should never get round Duncansby Head, which is close to
John o' Groat's House, until the wind drawing once more from the
westward, they had reached Wick, the great resort of fishing vessels.
After this they had a dead beat until they sighted Tarbet-ness
Lighthouse, on the northern side of the Moray Firth. Their further
adventures they kept for another day.
"I am glad to get back again to you," exclaimed Dick; "it's dull work
sailing all alone. I confess that I sometimes thought you would never
get through overland; for by no other way, it seems to me, could you
have come, except along those little trout ponds I saw marked on the
map."
Dick was not a little astonished when we told him the size of the canal
and its locks, and that a vessel very much larger than the Dolphin could
have got through with equal ease.
We had brought an abundance of fresh provisions for both yachts, and
were glad to find that Uncle Tom did not wish to go to Inverness; and we
accordingly shaped our course for Kinnaird's Head, not intending to
touch at any place on the Scotch coast until we reached Aberdeen.