VIII
Their journey home—that is, to Sark—that day was not entirely without incident. For when they got down to the quay, Sark had disappeared completely, and Herm and Jethou were no more than wan ghosts of their natural selves, in a dense white mist.
"Ah-ha! Here is our old friend of Tintageu," said Graeme jovially. "Well, I must confess to bearing him no ill-feeling—if he doesn't land us on a rock this time. Going, captain?"
"Oh yess, we go. I think it will lift," said Captain Bichard.
"Don't run us on a rock anyway."
"I won'd run you on no rock. I coult smell my way across;" and they started, feeling their way cautiously past Castle Cornet, into the open, where black jaws lined with white teeth lie in wait for the unwary.
And just as they got to the south of Jethou they saw a sight the like of which none of them had ever seen before, nor, from the exclamations about them, had any of the rest.
The mist in front was like a soft white curtain, and upon it, straight ahead of their bows, appeared suddenly a mighty silver bow, not a rainbow, because there was no rain and so there were no colours. But, like the bow they had seen from Belême Cliff, this also was a perfect circle, all but a tiny segment where it appeared to rest upon the sea, and its only colour was a dazzling silvery sheen which waxed as they watched it in breathless silence. Then it waned, bit by bit, till at last it was gone, and only the white mist curtain remained.
"How very lovely!" murmured Margaret.
"A good omen for certain," said Miss Penny. "Even Johnnie Vautrin couldn't make any ill news out of that. It was your wedding arch, Meg."
"Well, that's the first time I ever saw a white rainbow," said Graeme to the captain.
"First time I ever saw one myself, sir."
"Not very common then."
"Never heard of one before."
"We're evidently in luck."
"Mebbe, but we won't crow till we've made the Creux. Kip your eyes skinned, lads!"
"Ay, ay, zur!" and the crew lined the bulwarks on their knees, with their chins on the rail, their eyes peering into the puzzling veil in front, and their ears alert for the wash of wave on rock.
They were going slow, hardly moving in fact at times, waiting to pick up their course as any possible mark should come into view, with muttered comments from the puzzled lookouts, and an occasional growl of dissent from views propounded by the younger members, while the passengers all stood in silent discomfort as though ready for contingencies.
For the tides and currents in those seas are strange and gruesome. Even as they lay, apparently motionless, with the sea as smooth as oil all round them, there came a sudden turmoil, and they were in a wild race of waters, with bubbling coils and swirls and frothing gouts of foam from rocks that lay fathoms deep below.
"La Grune," growled one of the keen-eyed watchers, and was discounted at once by doubtful growls from the rest.
Then a black ledge loomed through the mist and faded again before they had more than a glimpse of it.
"Les Dents," ventured one.
"Hautes Boues,"—so divergent were their views.
A sound of waters and another dark loom of rock.
"Sercul," said one.
"L'Etac," said another.
Then the engine bell tanged sharply, and they went ahead. The captain had seen more than the rest and knew where he was, and they all breathed more freely. And presently, with a wide berth to the dangers of the south-east coast, they nosed slowly in again, picked up La Conchée without dissentients, and so into Creux Harbour in a way that seemed to Graeme little short of marvellous.
"Fogs at sea are beastly—there is no other word for it—but all the same I'm glad we saw the Wedding-Bow," said Miss Penny.