Great old Ossian had come and put his head on her lap, and gazing up into her face with those brown speaking eyes of his, and his loving looks of pity, almost broke her heart. The tears had come fast enough then.
The Fairy Queen had sailed from Leith. Both parents had accompanied their sons thus far, and blessed them and given them Bibles each (it is a way they have in Scotland on such occasions), and bade them a hearty good-bye.
Yes, it was a hearty good-bye to all outward appearance, but there was a lump in Leonard’s throat all the same that he had a good deal of difficulty in swallowing; and as soon as the Fairy Queen was out of sight, the two fathers had left the pier—not side by side, remark we, but one in front of the other, Indian-file fashion. Why not side by side? Well, for this reason. There was a moisture in Major Fitzroy’s eyes, that, being a man, he was somewhat ashamed of, so he stumped on ahead, that Captain Lyle might not notice his weakness; and between you and me, reader, Captain Lyle, for some similar reason, was not sorry. I hope you quite understand it.
However, here on this beautiful summer’s night, with a gentle beam wind blowing from the westward, we find our friends on deck. There is a crowd of sail on her, and the ship lies away to the west of the Shetland Islands. They do not mean to touch there, so give the rocks a good offing.
Save for the occasional flapping of the sails or a footstep on deck, there is not a sound to break the solemn stillness.
They did encounter a gale of wind, however, shortly after leaving Leith, but the good ship stood it well, and it had not lasted long.
“I say, old fellow,” said Leonard, “hadn’t you better turn in? I think I would if I had a chance.”
“No, I don’t feel sleepy; I’m more inclined to continue our pleasant chat. Pleasant chat on a pleasant night, with every prospect of a pleasant voyage, eh?”
“I think so. Of course good weather cannot last for ever.”
“No, and then there is the ice.”