In a few minutes he reappeared fully attired. It was Chief Factor McLeod, accompanied by his daughter Lena and his nephew Frank, and on his way to inspect Fort Future.
Shortly after Mr. McLeod’s appearance the sound of girlish laughter, mingled with the protesting voice of a man, proceeded from the cabin. There was the noise of a scuffle, then a young woman burst out and sprang behind the Factor. As she stood there, her face alive with mischievous laughter, her eyes sparkling with merriment, her bosom heaving with the exertions of her playful struggle, she was the picture of a bonny, saucy, Scottish maiden.
Soon a fresh, boyish face appeared in the cabin doorway.
“Look here, Uncle,” groveled the young fellow, a little sulkily, “I wish you would keep that daughter of yours in order. She is more mischievous than a monkey. Yes, a monkey, miss,” he added severely, for the girl was making grimaces at him from behind her father’s back. “She can’t leave me alone five minutes, sir.”
“Lena! Lena!” admonished Mr. McLeod with a smile and a look of deep affection. “Will you never act as a grown-up young lady should?”
The girl laughed derisively at her cousin, then, abruptly turning her back, she caught her father’s arm and pulled him to the side of the boat. As they gazed over the turbulent waters, a low, hoarse roar made itself heard above the noise of dashing waves. The expected gale was upon them. A damp column of cold air struck the boat, bellying out the canvas with a jerk, and wrenching the yielding mass, until it bowed heavily over before the shock.
The mainsail was quickly dropped and the boat righted herself. Sluggishly great waves buffeted her, causing her to stagger when they struck.
Presently the gale became furious, fully justifying Hopkins’ prognostications. The sea was so rough that the boat was in great danger of being smashed by the sheer weight of water hurled against her side. But they were compelled to go on, however terrible the storm might be, for the wind had swerved round to the west and this, with the tide on the ebb, prevented them running close-in to anchor in one of the numerous rivers along the coast. The boat was fast being carried out to sea, the land was becoming a thin black line in the far distance, and shortly all trace of it was lost to sight.
Perceiving their peril, Hopkins gave the helm to a trusty lieutenant and stumbled forward to speak to the Chief Factor, who was standing there alone. He had long since sent Lena to the cabin and now stood with his arm twined around a back-stay, strung to the tension of a harpstring, and his eyes sparkling with excitement as the little craft beneath him tossed and rolled and tore along. His drenched hair and beard were flying back from his face, which was streaming with salt water.
“She’s not holding her own against the combined fury of wind and tide,” he cried at Hopkins’ approach.