We got under weigh, and proceeded by Kilbrannan Sound and Arran. We went on deck for a little while, but were driven below by the rain; later, however, it was possible to keep on deck. We reached Campbeltown, a small and not pretty place, at the foot of Cantire, at twenty minutes to five. About half an hour after we arrived the yacht came in, with the “Garland,” “Fairy,” and “Scourge,” and we immediately went on board. They had had a very bad passage, and Captain Crispin said he was very glad that we had not been on board the “Victoria and Albert.” This rather alarmed us for the next day’s voyage, the more so as the evening was squally and the sky very unpromising. There was a long consultation as to what was to be done, and at last it was decided that we should start at four in the morning, and if it were very rough, we should either run into Loch Ryan, the Mull of Galloway, the Bay of Ramsay, or into Douglas in the Isle of Man.
Loch Ryan, Sunday, September 19.
We set off at four o’clock, the yacht rolling considerably; but it was quite bearable; however, at seven they came to shut down the port-holes, expecting a heavy sea, and Lord Adolphus saw Albert, who had just got up, and said it would be very rough; upon which it was decided to put back a little way, and to go into Loch Ryan; we accordingly did so, and anchored there at half-past eight;—such a dreary rainy day—one could hardly recognize what was so fine when we were last in here.
Both now, and the time before when we were in Loch Ryan, Lord Orkney very civilly sent us game and all sorts of things.
At twelve o’clock Lord Adolphus read the short sea-service. We then talked over our voyage, and what could be done;—the day was very wretched,—pouring with rain and blowing hard. It was at last decided to start again at three, and get this evening to the Mull of Galloway, which would only take us three hours, though it would probably be rough. As soon as we were out of the loch the yacht began to pitch, and the sea was dreadfully rough. I was very ill. Albert, however, stood it perfectly, and the children very tolerably. Presently we came in sight of the Mull of Galloway, a great rock with a lighthouse on it;—and this was our last glimpse of dear Scotland.
Monday, September 20.
At six o’clock we got under weigh, and after considerable “rockings,” which lasted for nearly two hours, we were near the Isle of Man, in smooth water, and at half-past eight anchored in Ramsay Bay.
Albert went on shore, and meantime the Bishop of Sodor and Man, with others, came on board. Albert returned at twelve. At one o’clock we started again. We had to go slowly at first, as our paddle-wheel again got wrong, and because we should otherwise have arrived before we were expected.
We anchored at seven in Fleetwood Harbour; the entrance was extremely narrow and difficult. We were lashed close to the pier, to prevent our being turned by the tide; and when I went on deck there was a great commotion, such running and calling, and pulling of ropes, &c. It was a cheerless evening, blowing hard.