“Is the yacht a large one, Edward?” his wife asked, somewhat timidly.
“Oh, big enough to take our party a dozen times over.”
“Will she tumble about much, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Ingram said with an unkindly grin. “But as you are a weak vessel, Lavender will watch the weather for you, and give it you as smooth as possible. Besides, look at the cleanliness and comfort of a smart yacht! You are thinking of one of those Channel steamers, with their engines and oil.”
“Let us hope for the best,” said his wife, with a sigh.
They not only hoped for it, but got it. When they left the Crinan and got on board the big steamer that was to take them up to Oban, all around them lay a sea of soft and shining blue, scarcely marred by a ripple. Here and there sharp crags that rose out of the luminous plain seemed almost black, but the farther islands lay soft and hazy in the heat, with the beautiful colors of August tinting the great masses of rock. As they steamed northward through the shining sea, new islands and new channels appeared until they came in sight of the open Atlantic, and that, too, was as calm and as still as a summer night. There was no white cloud in the blue vault of the sky, there was no crisp curl of a wave on the blue plain of the sea, but everywhere a clear, radiant, salt-smelling atmosphere, the drowsy haze of which was only visible when you looked at the distant islands and saw the fine and pearly vail of heat that was drawn over the soft colors of the hills. The sea-birds dipped and disappeared as the big boat churned its way onward. A white solan, far away by the shores of Mull, struck the water as he dived, and sent a jet of spray into the air. Colonsay and Oronsay became as faint clouds on the Southern horizon, the jagged coast of Lorne drew near. And then they went up through the Sound of Kerrara and steamed into the broad and beautiful bay of Oban, and behold! here was Sheila on the pier, already waving a handkerchief to them, while her husband held her arm, lest in her excitement she should go too near the edge of the quay.
“And where is the boat that we have heard so much of?” said Mrs. Kavanagh, when all the kissing and handshaking was over.
“There!” said Sheila, not without some shamefaced pride, pointing to a shapely schooner that lay out in the bay, with her white decks and tall spars shining in the afternoon sun.
“And what do you call her?” asked Mrs. Kavanagh’s daughter.
“We call her Princess Sheila,” said Lavender. “What do you think of the name?”