What was this great noise next morning of the rattling of chains and the flapping of canvas overhead? There was a slight motion in the boat and a plashing of water around her sides. Was the Princess Sheila getting under weigh?
The various noises ceased, so also did the rolling of the vessel, and apparently all was silent and motionless again. But when the ladies had dressed and got up on deck, behold they were in a new world! All around them were the blue waters of Loch Linnhe, lit up by the brilliant sunshine of the morning. A light breeze was just filling the great white sails, and the yacht, heeling over slightly, was cutting her placid way through the lapping waves. How keen was the fresh smell of the air! Sea-gulls were swooping down and around the tall masts; over there the green island of Lismore lay bright in the sunshine; the lonely hills of Morven and the mountains of Mull had a thousand shades of color growing on their massive shoulders and slopes; the ruins of Duart Castle, out at the point, seemed too fair and picturesque to be associated with dark legends of blood. Were these faint specks in the South the far islands of Colonsay and Oronsay? Lavender brought his glass to Mrs. Ingram, and, with many apologies to all the ladies for having woke them up so soon, bade her watch the flight of two herons making in for the mouth of Loch Etive.
They had postponed for the present that Southward trip to Jura. The glass was still rising, and the appearance of the weather rendered it doubtful whether they might have wind enough to make such a cruise anything but tedious. They had taken advantage of the light breeze in the morning to weigh anchor and stand across for the Sound of Mull; if it held out, they would at least reach Tobermony, and take their last look at a town before rounding Ardnamurchan and making for the wild solitudes of Skye.
“Well, Cis,” Ingram said to his wife, as he busied himself with a certain long fishing-line, “what do you think of the Western Highlands?”
“Why did you not tell me of these places before?” she said, rather absently, for the mere height of the mountains along the Sound of Mull—the soft green woods leading up to the great bare shoulders of purple and gray and brown above—seemed to draw away one’s eyes and thoughts from surrounding objects.
“I have often. But what is the use of telling?”
“It is the most wonderful place I have ever seen,” she said. “It is so beautiful and so desolate at the same time. What lovely colors there are everywhere—on the sea, and on the shores there, and up the hills—and everything is so bright and gleaming! But no one seems to live here. I suppose you couldn’t; the loneliness of the mountains and the sea would kill you.”
“My dear child, these are town-bred fancies,” he said, in his usual calm and carelessly sententious manner. “If you lived there, you would have plenty to do besides looking at the hills and the sea. You would be glad of a fine day to let you go out and get some fish or go up the hills and get some blackcock for your dinner; and you would not get sad by looking at fine colors, as towns-folk do. Do you think Lavender and Sheila spend their time in mooning up in that island of theirs? and that, I can tell you, is a trifle more remote and wild than this is. They’ve got their work to do, and when that is done they feel comfortable and secure in a well-built house, and fairly pleased with themselves that they have earned some rest and amusement. I dare say if you built a cottage over there, and did nothing but look at the sea and the hills and the sky at night, you would very soon drown yourself. I suppose if a man were to give himself up for three months to thinking of the first formation of the world, and the condition of affairs before that happened, and the puzzle about how the materials ever came to be there, he would grow mad. But few people luckily have the chance of trying. They’ve got their bread to earn: if they haven’t, they’re bent on killing something or other—foxes, grouse, deer, and what not—and they don’t bother about the stars, or what lies just outside the region of the stars. When I find myself getting miserable about the size of a mountain, or the question as to how and when it came there, I know that it is time to eat something. I think breakfast is ready, Cis. Do you think you have the nerve to cut this hook out of my fingers? and then we can go below.”
She gave a little scream and started up. Two drops of blood had fallen on Lavender’s white decks.
“No, I see you can’t,” he said. “Open this knife, and I will dig it out myself. Bless the girl! are you going to faint because I have scratched my finger?”