And there was no sign of the ship. There was nothing but great wild waves rising and falling as far as they could see, and masses of white foam here and there, where they broke themselves on half hidden rocks beneath. There was no sign of life except that now and then a solitary sea-gull shrieked sadly through the blast.
“Eh! but it’s dreary and cold,” said May with a shudder.
“Go down to yon sheltered nook and bide there till I tell you that she is coming.”
“But it’s a’ nonsense, Jean. She mayna come at all, as auntie said.”
“Since we’re here, we’ll bide a while:” So May went down to the sheltered nook, and wrapping her cloak about her, she took from her pocket a biscuit or two with which she had providently supplied herself, and prepared to wait with what patience she could till her sister chose to go. And Jean, unable to stand still in the bitter wind, struggled up and down the narrow limits of the ledge,—not thinking—hardly feeling—for she needed all her power to keep her footing on the slippery rock—only waiting for the ship.
She came in sight at last, but, driven by the wind, as soon as she was beyond the harbour bar, she drifted so far to the eastward, that it was doubtful whether any signal from those on shore could be seen on board.
“Are you coming, May? Haste you,” cried Jean, and while her sister lingered, she let the long shawl float its full length on the wind. At the moment the clouds parted, and a sudden gleam of sunshine lighted the rock and the girlish figure, and the waving signal which she held. It was but for a moment. Before May had clambered to her side, the clouds met again, and dimness and dreariness were over all.
“Take it, May. It is you he is thinking of now when he sees it. He must have seen it when the sun shone out. Take it, and hold it fast.”
“It is easy said, hold it fast, and it’s all nonsense,” said May pettishly, and from her uncertain fingers the wind caught the scarlet signal, and carried it out to sea.
“My shawl!” gasped May. “My bonny scarlet shawl?”