“Look here, Lavender,” the lad said, with considerable confusion, “the fact is, Eyre and I—we brought you a few things in the Phœbe—a little wine, you know, and some such things. To-morrow, if you could get a passenger to go down to Port Ellen—but no. I suppose we must go and work the boat up the sound.”
“If you do that, I must go with you,” Lavender said, “for the chances are that your skipper doesn’t know the currents in the sound; and they are rather peculiar, I can tell you. So Johnny and you have brought me some wine? I wish we had it now, to celebrate your arrival, for I am afraid I can offer you nothing but whisky.”
The old Highland woman who had charge of the odd little cottage in which Lavender lived was put into a state of violent consternation by the arrival of these two strangers; but as Lavender said he would sleep on a couple of chairs and give his bed to Mosenberg and the sofa to Eyre, and as Mosenberg declared that the house was a marvel of neatness and comfort, and as Johnny assured her that he had frequently slept in a herring-barrel, she grew gradually pacified. There was a little difficulty about plates and knives and forks at luncheon, which consisted of cold mutton and two bottles of ale that had somehow been overlooked; but all these minor inconveniences were soon smoothed over, and then Lavender, carrying his canvas under his arm and a portable easel over his shoulder, went down to the shore, bade his companions good-bye for a couple of hours, and left them to explore the winding and rocky coast of Jura.
In the evening they had dinner in a small parlor, which was pretty well filled with a chest of drawers, a sofa and a series of large canvases. There was a peat-fire burning in the grate and two candles on the table, but the small room did not get oppressively hot, for each time the door was opened a draught of cold sea-air rushed in from the passage, sometimes blowing out one of the candles, but always sweetening the atmosphere. Then Johnny had some fine tobacco with him, and Mosenberg had brought Lavender a present of a meerschaum pipe, and presently a small kettle of hot water was put in requisition, and the friends drew round the fire.
“Well, it is good of you to come and see a fellow like this,” Lavender said, with a very apparent and hearty gratitude in his face. “I can scarcely believe my eyes that it is true. And can you make any stay, Johnny? Have you brought your colors with you?”
“Oh, no; I don’t mean to work,” Johnny said. “I have always had a fancy for a mid-winter cruise. It’s a hardening sort of thing, you know. You soon get used to it, don’t you, Mosenberg?” And Johnny grinned.
“Not yet—I may afterward,” said the lad. “But at present this is more comfortable than being on deck at night when it rains and you know not where you are going.”
“But that was only your own perversity. You might just as well have stopped in the cabin, and played that cornopean, and made yourself warm and comfortable. Really, Lavender, it’s very good fun, and if you only watch for decent weather you can go anywhere. Fancy our coming around the Mull with the Phœbe yesterday! And we had quite a pleasant trip across to Islay.”
“And where do you propose to go after leaving Jura?” Lavender asked.
“Well, you know the main object of our cruise was to come and see you. But if you care to come with us for a few days, we will go wherever you like.”