McBain made a speech, and a good one, too, after Ralph had spoken a few words. Poor Ralph! speaking was certainly not his strong point. But there was no hesitancy about McBain, and no nervousness either, and during its delivery he stood bolt upright in his place, as straight as an arrow, and his words were manly and straightforward. Allan felt proud of his foster-father. But Rory came next. For once in his life he hadn’t the slightest intention of making anybody laugh. But because he tried not to, he did; and when Irish bull after Irish bull came rattling out, “Och!” thinks Rory to himself, “seriousness isn’t my forte after all;” then he simply gave himself rein, and expressed himself so comically that there was not a dry eye in the room, for tears come with laughing as well as weeping.
There was a deal to be done to the Arrandoon—in her, on her, and around her—after she was launched, before she was ready; but it would serve no good purpose and only waste time to describe her completion, for we long to be “steam up” and away to sea en route for the starry north.
She was a gallant sight, the Arrandoon, as she stood away out to sea, past the rocky shores of Bute, bound south on her trial trip by the measured mile. Fifteen hundred tons burden was she, with tall and tapering masts: lower, main, topgallant, and royal; not one higher; no star-gazers, sky-scrapers, or moon-rakers; she wouldn’t have to rake much for the wind in the stormy seas they were going to. Then there was the funnel, such a funnel as a man with an eye in his head likes to see, not a mere pipe of a thing, but a great wide armful of a funnel, with the tiniest bit of rake on it; so too had the masts, though the Arrandoon did not look half so saucy as the Snowbird. The Arrandoon had more solidity about her, and more soberness and staidness, as became her—a ship about to be pitted against dangers unknown.
Her figure-head was the bust of a fair and beautiful girl.
That day, on her trial trip, the ladies were on board; and Rory made this remark to Helen Edith:
“The fair image on our bows, Helen, will soon be gazing wistfully north.”
“Ah! you seem to long for that,” said Helen, “but,” she added archly, “mamma and I look forward to the time when she will be gazing just as wistfully south again.”
Rory laughed, and the conversation assumed a livelier tone.
Steamers, I always think, are very similar in one way to colts, they require a certain amount of breaking in, they seldom do well on their trial trip. The Arrandoon was no exception; she promised well at first, and fulfilled that promise for twenty good miles and two; then she intimated to the engineers in charge that she had had enough of it. Well, this was a good opportunity of trying her sailing qualities, and in these she exceeded all expectations.
McBain rubbed his hands with delight, for no yacht at Cowes ever sailed more close to the wind, came round on shorter length, or made more knots an hour. He promised himself a treat, and that treat was to run out some day with her in half a gale of wind, when there were no ladies on board. He would then see what the Arrandoon could do under sail, and what she couldn’t. He did this; and the very next day after he came back he made the journey to Leigh Hall, and stopped there for a whole week. That was proof enough that the captain was pleased with his ship.