The good people on the yacht are for a minute rendered dumb with astonishment, but only for a minute; then the air is rent with their shouts as they give back cheer for cheer.
“Och! deed in troth,” cried Rory, losing all control of his English accent, “it’s myself that is bothered entoirely. Is it my head or my heels that I’m standing on? for never a morsel of me knows! Is it dreaming I am? Allan, boy, can’t you tell me? Just look at the name on the stern of the beautiful craft.”
Allan himself was dumb with astonishment to behold, in broad letters of gold the words, “The Arrandoon.”
Chapter Three.
Retrospection—Ralph’s Home in England—A Hearty if not Poetic Welcome.
Many of my readers have met with the heroes of this tale before (in the “Cruise of the Snowbird,” by the same Author and Publishers), but doubtless some have not; and as it is always well to know at least a little of the dramatis personae of a story beforehand, the many must in the present instance give place to the few. They must either, therefore, listen politely to a little epitomised repetition, or sit quietly aside with their fingers in their ears for the space of five minutes. But, levity apart, I shall be as brief as brevity itself.
Which of our heroes shall we start with first? Allan? Yes, simply because his initial letter stands first on the alphabetic list.
Allan McGregor is a worthy Scot.