THE UMPIRE.
Next morning, with all this wonderful world of sea and islands shining
in the early sunlight, Mr. White and his daughter were down by the
shore, walking along the white sands, and chatting idly as they went.
From time to time they looked across the fair summer seas to the distant
cliffs of Bourg; and each time they looked a certain small white speck
seemed coming nearer. That was the _Umpire_; and Keith Macleod was on
board of her. He had started at an unknown hour of the night to bring
the yacht over from her anchorage. He would not have his beautiful
Fionaghal, who had come as a stranger to these far lands, go back to
Dare in a common open boat with stones for ballast.
"This is the loneliest place I have ever seen," Miss Gertrude White was
saying on this the third morning after her arrival. "It seems scarcely
in the world at all. The sea cuts you off from everything you know; it
would have been nothing if we had come by rail."
They walked on in silence, the blue waves beside them curling a crisp
white on the smooth sands.
"Pappy," said she, at length, "I suppose if I lived here for six months
no one in England would know anything about me? If I were mentioned at
all, they would think I was dead. Perhaps some day I might meet some one
from England; and I would have to say, 'Don't you know who I am? Did you
never hear of one called Gertrude White? I was Gertrude White.'"
"No doubt," said her father, cautiously.
"And when Mr. Lemuel's portrait of me appears in the Academy, people
would be saying, 'Who is that?' _Miss Gertrude White, as Juliet?_ Ah,
there was an actress of that name. Or was she an amateur? She married
somebody in the Highlands. I suppose she is dead now?"
"It is one of the most gratifying instances, Gerty, of the position you
have made," her father observed, in his slow and sententious way, "that
Mr. Lemuel should be so willing, after having refused to exhibit at the
Academy for so many years, to make an exception in the case of your
portrait."
"Well, I hope my face will not get burned by the sea-air and the sun,"
she said. "You know he wants two or three more sittings. And do you
know, pappy, I have sometimes thought of asking you to tell me
honestly--not to encourage me with flattery, you know--whether my face
has really that high-strung pitch of expression when I am about to drink
the poison in the cell. Do I really look like Mr. Lemuel's portrait of
me?"
"It is your very self, Gerty," her father said, with decision. "But then
Mr. Lemuel is a man of genius. Who but himself could have caught the
very soul of your acting and fixed it on canvas?"
She hesitated for a moment, and then there was a flush of genuine
enthusiastic pride mantling on her forehead as she said, frankly,--
"Well, then, I wish I could see myself!"
Mr. White said nothing. He had watched this daughter of his through the
long winter months. Occasionally, when he heard her utter sentiments
such as these--and when he saw her keenly sensitive to the flattery
bestowed upon her by the people assembled at Mr. Lemuel's little
gatherings, he had asked himself whether it was possible she could ever
marry Sir Keith Macleod. But he was too wise to risk reawakening her
rebellious fits by any encouragement. In any case, he had some
experience of this young lady; and what was the use of combatting one of
her moods at five o'clock when at six o'clock she would be arguing in
the contrary direction, and at seven convinced that the _viv media_ was
the straight road? Moreover, if the worst came to the worst, there would
be some compensation in the fact of Miss White changing her name for
that of Lady Macleod.
Just as quickly she changed her mood on the present occasion. She was
looking again far over the darkly blue and ruffled seas toward the
white-sailed yacht.
"He must have gone away in the dark to get that boat for us," said she,
musingly. "Poor fellow, how very generous and kind he is!
Sometimes--shall I make the confession, pappy?--I wish he had picked out
some one who could better have returned his warmth of feeling."
She called it a confession; but it was a question. And her father
answered more bluntly than she had quite expected.
"I am not much of an authority on such points," said he, with a dry
smile; "but I should have said, Gerty, that you have not been quite so
effusive towards Sir Keith Macleod as some young ladies would have been
on meeting their sweetheart after a long absence."
The pale face flushed, and she answered, hastily,
"But you know, papa, when you are knocked about from one boat to
another, and expecting to be ill one minute and drowned the next, you
don't have your temper improved, do you? And then perhaps you have been
expecting a little too much romance?--and you find your Highland
chieftain handing down loaves, with all the people in the steamer
staring at him. But I really mean to make it up to him, papa, if I could
only get settled down for a day or two and get into my own ways. Oh dear
me!--this sun--it is too awfully dreadful! When I appear before Mr.
Lemuel again, I shall be a mulatto!"
And as they walked along the burning sands, with the waves monotonously
breaking, the white-sailed yacht came nearer and more near; and,
indeed, the old _Umpire_, broad-beamed and heavy as she was, looked
quite stately and swanlike as she came over the blue water. And they saw
the gig lowered; and the four oars keeping rhythmical time; and
presently they could make out the browned and glad face of Macleod.
"Why did you take so much trouble?" said she to him--and she took his
hand in a very kind way as he stepped on shore. "We could very well have
gone back in the boat."
"Oh, but I want to take you round by Loch Tua," said he, looking with
great gratitude into those friendly eyes. "And it was no trouble at all.
And will you step into the gig now?"
He took her hand and guided her along the rocks until she reached the
boat; and he assisted her father too. Then they pushed off, and it was
with a good swing the men sent the boat through the lapping waves. And
here was Hamish standing by the gangway to receive them; and he was
gravely respectful to the stranger lady, as he assisted her to get up
the small wooden steps; but there was no light of welcome in the keen
gray eyes. He quickly turned away from her to give his orders; for
Hamish was on this occasion skipper, and had donned a smart suit of blue
with brass buttons. Perhaps he would have been prouder of his buttons,
and of himself, and of the yacht he had sailed for so many years, if it
had been any other than Gertrude White who had now stepped on board.
But, on the other hand, Miss White was quite charmed with this shapely
vessel and all its contents. If the frugal ways and commonplace duties
and conversation of Castle Dare had somewhat disappointed her, and had
seemed to her not quite in accordance with the heroic traditions of the
clans, here, at least, was something which she could recognize as
befitting her notion of the name and position of Sir Keith Macleod.
Surely it must be with a certain masterful sense of possession that he
would stand on those white decks, independent of all the world besides,
with those sinewy, sun-browned, handsome fellows ready to go anywhere
with him at his bidding? It is true that Macleod, in showing her over
the yacht, seemed to know far too much about tinned meats; and he
exhibited with some pride a cunning device for the stowage of
soda-water; and he even went the length of explaining to her the
capacities of the linen-chest; but then she could not fail to see that,
in his eagerness to interest and amuse her, he was as garrulous as a
schoolboy showing to his companion a new toy. Miss White sat down in the
saloon; and Macleod, who had but little experience in attending on
ladies, and knew of but one thing that it was proper to recommend,
said,--
"And will you have a cup of tea now, Gertrude? Johnny will get it to you
in a moment."
"No, thank you," said she, with a smile, for she knew not how often he
had offered her a cup of tea since her arrival in the Highlands. "But do
you know, Keith, your yacht has a terrible bachelor look about it? All
the comforts of it are in this saloon and in those two nice little
state-rooms. Your lady's cabin looks very empty; it is too elegant and
fine, as if you were afraid to leave a book or a match-box in it. Now,
if you were to turn this into a lady's yacht; you would have to remove
that pipe-rack, and the guns and rifles and bags."
"Oh," said he, anxiously, "I hope you do not smell any tobacco?"
"Not at all," said she. "It was only a fancy. Of course you are not
likely to turn your yacht into a lady's yacht."
He started and looked at her. But she had spoken quite thoughtlessly,
and had now turned to her father.
When they went on deck again they found that the _Umpire_, beating up in
the face of a light northerly breeze, had run out for a long tack almost
to the Dutchman's Cap; and from a certain distance they could see the
grim shores of this desolate island, with its faint tinge of green grass
over the brown of its plateau of rock. And then Hamish called out,
"Ready, about!" and presently they were slowly leaving behind that
lonely Dutchman and making away for the distant entrance to Loch Tua.
The breeze was slight; they made but little way; far on the blue waters
they watched the white gulls sitting buoyant; and the sun was hot on
their hands. What did they talk about in this summer idleness? Many a
time he had dreamed of his thus sailing over the clear seas with the
fair Fionaghal from the South, until at times his heart, grown sick with
yearning, was ready to despair of the impossible. And yet here she was
sitting on a deck-stool near him--the wide-apart, long-lashed eyes
occasionally regarding him--a neglected book open on her lap--the small
gloved hands toying with the cover. Yet there was no word of love
spoken. There was only a friendly conversation, and the idle passing of
a summer day. It was something to know that her breathing was near him.
Then the breeze died away altogether, and they were left altogether
motionless on the glassy blue sea. The great sails hung limp, without a
single flap or quiver in them; the red ensign clung to the jigger-mast;
Hamish, though he stood by the tiller, did not even put his hand on that
bold and notable representation in wood of the sea-serpent.
"Come now, Hamish," Macleod said, fearing this monotonous idleness would
weary his fair guest, "you will tell us now one of the old stories that
you used to tell me when I was a boy."
Hamish had, indeed, told the young Macleod many a mysterious tale of
magic and adventure, but he was not disposed to repeat any one of these
in broken English in order to please this lady from the South.
"It is no more of the stories I hef now, Sir Keith," said he. "It was a
long time since I had the stories."
"Oh, I could construct one myself," said Miss White, lightly. "Don't I
know how they all begin? '_There was once a king in Erin, and he had a
son and this son it was who would take the world for his pillow. But
before he set out on his travels, he took counsel of the falcon, and the
hoodie, and the otter. And the falcon said to him, go to the right; and
the hoodie said to him, you will be wise now if you go to the left; but
the otter said to him, now take my advice_,' etc., etc."
"You have been a diligent student," Macleod said, laughing heartily.
"And, indeed, you might go on with the story and finish it; for who
knows now when we shall get back to Dare?"
It was after a long period of thus lying in dead calm--with the
occasional appearance of a diver on the surface of the shining blue
sea--that Macleod's sharply observant eye was attracted by an odd thing
that appeared far away at the horizon.
"What do you think is that now?" said he, with a smile.
They looked steadfastly, and saw only a thin line of silver light,
almost like the back of a knife, in the distant dark blue.
"The track of a seal swimming under water," Mr. White suggested.
"Or a shoal of fish," his daughter said.
"Watch!"
The sharp line of light slowly spread; a trembling silver-gray took the
place of the dark blue; it looked as if invisible fingers were rushing
out and over the glassy surface. Then they felt a cool freshness in the
hot air; the red ensign swayed a bit; then the great mainsail flapped
idly; and finally the breeze came gently blowing over the sea, and on
again they went through the now rippling water. And as the slow time
passed in the glare of the sunlight, Staffa lay on the still water a
dense mass of shadow; and they went by Lunga; and they drew near to the
point of Gometra, where the black skarts were sitting on the exposed
rocks. It was like a dream of sunlight, and fair colors, and summer
quiet.
"I cannot believe," said she to him, "that those fierce murders and
revenges took place in such beautiful scenes as these. How could they?"
And then, in the broad and still waters of Loch Tua, with the lonely
rocks of Ulva close by them, they were again becalmed; and now it was
decided that they should leave the yacht there at certain moorings, and
should get into the gig and be pulled through the shallow channel
between Ulva and Mull that connects Loch Tua with Loch-na-Keal. Macleod
had been greatly favored by the day chosen at haphazard for this water
promenade: at the end of it he was gladdened to hear Miss White say that
she had never seen anything so lovely on the face of the earth.
And yet it was merely a question of weather. To-morrow they might come
back and find the water a ruffled leaden color; the waves washing over
the rocks; Ben More invisible behind driving clouds. But now, as those
three sat in the stern of the gig, and were gently pulled by the sweep
of the oars, it seemed to one at least of them that she must have got
into fairyland. The rocky shores of Ulva lay on one side of this broad
and winding channel, the flatter shores of Mull on the other, and
between lay a perfect mirror of water, in which everything was so
accurately reflected that it was quite impossible to define the line at
which the water and the land met. In fact, so vivid was the reflection
of the blue and white sky on the surface of the water that it appeared
to her as if the boat was suspended in mid-air--a sky below, a sky
above. And then the beauty of the landscape that enclosed this wonderful
mirror--the soft green foliage above the Ulva rocks; the brilliant
yellow-brown of the sea-weed, with here there a gray heron standing
solitary and silent as a ghost over the pools; ahead of them, towering
above this flat and shining and beautiful landscape, the awful majesty
of the mountains around Loch-na-Keal--the monarch of them, Ben More,
showing a cone of dark and thunderous purple under a long and heavy
swathe of cloud. Far away, too, on their right, stretched the splendid
rampart of the Gribun cliffs, a soft sunlight on the grassy greens of
their summits; a pale and brilliant blue in the shadows of the huge and
yawning caves. And so still it was, and the air so fine and sweet: it
was a day for the idling of happy lovers.
What jarred, then? Not the silent appearance of the head of a seal in
that shining plain of blue and white; for the poor old fellow only
regarded the boat for a second or two with his large and pathetic eyes,
and then quietly disappeared. Perhaps it was this--that Miss White was
leaning over the side of the boat, and admiring very much the wonderful
hues of groups of sea-weed below, that were all distinctly visible in
the marvellously clear water. There were beautiful green plants that
spread their flat fingers over the silver-white sands; and huge rolls of
purple and sombre brown; and long strings that came up to the
surface--the traceries and decorations of these haunts of the mermaid.
"It is like a pantomime," she said. "You would expect to see a burst of
lime-light, and Neptune appearing with a silver trident and crown. Well,
it only shows that the scene-painters are nearer nature than most people
imagine. I should never have thought there was anything so beautiful in
the sea."
And then again she said, when they had rounded Ulva, and got a glimpse
of the open Atlantic again,
"Where is it, Keith, you proposed to sink all the theatres in England
for the benefit of the dolphins and the lobsters?"
He did not like these references to the theatre.
"It was only a piece of nonsense," said he, abruptly.
But then she begged him so prettily to get the men to sing the
boat-song, that he good-humoredly took out a sheet of paper and a
pencil, and said to her,--
"If I write it down for you, I must write it as it is pronounced. For
how would you know that _Fhir a bhata, na horo eile_ is pronounced _Feer
a vahta na horo ailya?_"
"And perhaps, then," said she, with a charming smile, "writing it down
would spoil it altogether? But you will ask them to sing it for me."
He said a word or two in the Gaelic to Sandy, who was rowing stroke; and
Sandy answered with a short, quick laugh of assent.
"I have asked them if they would drink your health," Macleod said, "and
they have not refused. It would be a great compliment to them if you
would fill out the whiskey yourself; here is my flask."
She took that formidable vessel in her small hands, and the men rested
on their oars; and then the metal cup was passed along. Whether it was
the dram, or whether it was the old familiar chorus they struck up--
"Fhir a bhata (na horo eile)
Fhir a bhata (na horo eile)
Fhir a bhata (na horo eile)
Chead soire slann leid ge thobh a' theid u,"
certain it is that the boat swung forward with a new strength, and
erelong they beheld in the distance the walls of Castle Dare. And here
was Janet at the small quay, greatly distressed because of the
discomfort to which Miss White must have been subjected.
"But I have been telling Sir Keith," she said, with a sweet smile, "that
I have come through the most beautiful place I have ever seen in the
world."
This was not, however, what she was saying to herself when she reached
the privacy of her own room. Her thoughts took a different turn.
"And if it does seem impossible"--this was her inward speech to
herself--"that those wild murders should have been committed in so
beautiful a place, at least there will be a fair chance of one occurring
when I tell him that I have signed an engagement that will last till
Christmas. But what good could come of being in a hurry?"