The yacht, instead of heeling over as she had hitherto been doing, was on a tolerably even keel, though she gave now and then a little playful roll or pitch into the seas as she rapidly clove her way over them.
Jack came down and invited them to come on deck and see the two lights, which now appeared before them on each bow.
“Before the light vessel on the port bow was stationed there, no ship on a dark night and bad weather would willingly run through this channel,” he observed. “But now it can be done as safely as in the broadest daylight, or indeed even more so.”
“But I see two lights close together,” said Julia.
“Yes,” answered Jack, “one is at each mast-head of the vessel. It can thus be distinguished from the larger light of the Longships, which is a single light of much greater power. We can also thus distinguish the Longships from the revolving light of Saint Agnes, on the southern rocks of Scilly. You can see it low down over the port quarter. Now you see it is hidden, but it will appear again in another minute, whereas the Longships light is fixed and is always visible.”
As Murray had prognosticated, the wind moderated, and the Stella had a pleasant run across the mouth of the Bristol Channel, sighting the Smalls light-house the next forenoon to the westward of Milford Haven on the starboard hand, the revolving Tuscar lights off the Irish coast being seen over the port quarter as it grew dark.
The wind now fell, and not until next morning did a light breeze spring up, which wafted the Stella along the Wicklow coast. Just before dark she brought up in the beautiful Bay of Dublin, the wind not allowing her to get into Kingstown harbour. Adair being especially anxious to go on shore to learn how it fared with Desmond, the boat was manned, and Jack accompanied him on shore, the ladies preferring to remain on board.
The eventful day of the trial was over, and already it had been decided whether Gerald Desmond was to remain a poor lieutenant with his half-pay alone to depend upon, or become the owner of a handsome estate—albeit somewhat encumbered—and the possessor of a title, at all events worth something, whatever cynics might think about the matter. Jack felt almost as much interested as Adair, and could talk of nothing else during their passage up to Dublin. The crew seemed to guess there was something in the wind, and gave way with a will. On arriving at Dublin, having sent the boat back to the yacht, they hastened up to the residence of the Counsellor McMahon, with whom Desmond was staying. They intended to sleep that night in Dublin, and to return the next morning by way of Kingstown to the Stella.
Captain Adair, excited by his feelings, pulled the bell with more than his usual vehemence.
“Is Counsellor McMahon at home?” he asked.