he could only have a sniff through the leescuppers, Rory lifted him on to the capstan, and pointed out the land tohim.
Then rough sea-dogs of men pulled off from a little village to greetthem, dressed in jackets like the coats of bears. Rough though theylooked, the foreyard was hauled aback all the same.
"No," they said, "they didn't think the country was at war." That wasall they could say; but they gave the captain a week-old newspaper andfish for all hands, in return for a few cakes of tobacco.
Then away they pulled, and the _Snowbird_ sailed on. Lerwick wasreached in good time, and here they cast anchor for five hours; hereweird old Magnus bade them all an affectionate adieu, and here ourheroes landed to telegraph to their friends.
How anxiously the replies were waited for, and with what trembling handsand beating hearts they opened them when they did arrive, only those canknow who have been years absent from their native shores, withouthearing from those they hold dear.
The gist of the despatches was as follows:--Number 1 to Allan fromArrandoon. "All alive and well." Number 2 to Ralph. "Father alive andwell, will meet you at Oban. Your cousin, alas! no more. Fortune fallsto you."
"Hurrah!" cried Ralph, "my cousin is dead!"
McBain could not restrain a smile.
"What a strange equivocal way of expressing your grief!" he said.
"Och!" said Rory, "excuse the poor boy; he won't have to marry hisgrandmother nevermore."
Rory's own telegram was the least satisfactory. It was from his agents.It was all about rents, and they didn't advise him to return to Ireland"just yet."
"I'm right glad of that," said Allan; "you shall stop with me till `justyet' blows over."
There was nothing to keep them much longer at Shetland. Yet the moorswere all purple with heather. Allan suggested gathering a garland tohang at the _Snowbird's_ main truck, where the crow's-nest had beenthrough all the Arctic winter.
"So romantic a proposal," said Rory, "deserves seconding, though 'deedand in troth, when you spoke, Allan, of gathering heather, I fancied itwould be a broom you'd be after making. There _is_ a spice of poetry inyou after all."
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Two days after this, on a lovely balmy August afternoon, with just windenough to fill the sails, the _Snowbird_, looking as white in canvas asher namesake, looking as clean and as taut and as trim as though she hadnever left the Scottish shores, rounded the point of Ardnamurchan, andstood in towards Loch Sunart. Hardly had they opened out the broad bluelake when McBain exclaimed, with joyous excitement in his every tone,--
"Boys, come here, quick!"
The boys came bounding.
"Look yonder, what is that?" As she spoke he pointed towards a tidylittle cutter yacht that came rushing towards them over the water as ifshe couldn't come quickly enough.
"The _Flower of Arrandoon_!" every one said in a breath. And so it was.Too impatient to remain any longer at Oban, our heroes' friends had setsail to meet them. In fifteen minutes more they were all together onboard the _Snowbird_.
I would much rather leave it to the reader's imagination than tell ofthe joyous greetings that followed, of the pleasant passage up the canaland through the lake, till once more anchored in sight of the dear oldcastle, surrounded with its hills of glorious purple heather; of thereturn to Arrandoon, and the wildness of the dogs, and the ecstasies ofpoor old Janet, for as the chain rattles over the bows and the anchordrops in the waters of the lake--_the Cruise of the "Snowbird" ends_.
It remains only for me, the author, to briefly breathe that little word,which never yet was spoken without some degree of tender sorrow, and sayAdieu.
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