the voyage auspiciously begun and promptly ended.

a voyage up the east coast of great britain and through the pentland firth does not usually take a long time. when the vessel is a swift little schooner-yacht, and the breeze is stiff as well as fair, the voyage is naturally a brief one.

everything favoured the little fairy. sun, moon, and stars cheered her, and winds were propitious, so that our voyagers soon found themselves skimming over the billows of the western sea.

it was one part of mabberly’s plan that he and his friends should do duty as part of the crew. he was himself accustomed to the handling of yachts, and barret he knew had been familiar with the management of boats from childhood.

“you can steer, of course?” he had asked giles jackman almost as soon as they were fairly at sea.

“well, ye–es, oh yes. no doubt i could steer if i were to try.”

“have you never tried?” asked his friend in surprise.

“oh yes, i have tried—once. it was on an occasion when a number of us had gone on a picnic. we had to proceed part of the way to our destination by river in a small boat, which was managed by a regular old sea-dog—i forget his name, for we generally hailed him by the title of old salt. some of the impatient members of the party suggested a little preliminary lunch. there are always people ready to back up impatient suggestions! it was agreed to, and old salt was ordered to open the provision basket, which had been stowed away in the bows of the boat. ‘would you steer, sir?’ said old salt to me, as he rose to go forward. ‘certainly, with pleasure,’ said i, for, as you know, it’s an old weakness of mine to be obliging! well, in a few minutes they were all eating away as if they’d had no breakfast, while we went merrily down the river, with the current and a light breeze in our favour.

“suddenly old salt shouted something that was smothered in its passage through a bite of sandwich. i looked up, and saw a native canoe coming straight towards us. ‘port!’ roared old salt, in an explosion that cleared away half the sandwich. ‘no, thankee; i prefer sherry,’ said i. but i stopped there, for i saw intuitively from the yell with which he interrupted me that something was wrong. ‘hard a-port!’ he cried, jumping up and scattering his rations. i shoved the tiller hard to the side that suggested itself, and hoped for the best. the worst followed, for we struck the native canoe amidships, as it was steering wildly out of our way, and capsized it! there were only two men in it, and they could swim like ducks; but the river was full of alligators, and two sharp-set ones were on the scent instantly. it is my opinion that those two natives would, then and there, have been devoured, if we had not run in between and made such a splashing and hullaballoo with boat-hook, oars, and voices, that the monsters were scared away. i have never steered since that day.”

“i don’t wonder; and, with my consent, you shall not steer now,” said mabberly, laughing. “why, giles, i was under the impression that you understood everything, and could do almost anything!”

“quite a mistake, bob, founded in error or superstition. you have confused the will with the deed. i am indeed willing to try anything, but my capacity for action is limited, like my knowledge. in regard to the higher mathematics, for instance, i know nothing. copper-mining i do not understand. i may say the same with reference to tartar mythology, and as regards the management of infants under two years i am densely ignorant.”

“but do you really know nothing at all about boats and ships, giles?” asked barret, who, being a good listener, did not always shine as a speaker.

“how can you ask such a question? of course i know a great deal about them. they float, they sail and row, they steer—”

“rather badly sometimes, according to your own showing!” remarked barret.

having cleared the pentland firth, mabberly consulted the skipper one morning as to the prospects of the weather. “going to fall calm, i fear,” he said, as mcpherson came aft with his hands in his pilot-coat pockets.

“ay, sir, that iss true, what-?-ver.”

to pronounce the last word correctly, the central ”?” must be run into a long-drawn, not an interjectional, sound.

“more-?-ver,” continued the skipper, in his drawling nasal tone, “it’s goin’ to be thick.”

being a weather-wise man, the skipper proved to be right. it did come thick; then it cleared, and, as we have said, things became favourable until they got further out to sea. then a fancy took possession of mabberly—namely, to have a “spin out into the atlantic and see how it looked!” it mattered not to jackman or barret what they did or where they went; the first being exuberantly joyous, the other quietly happy. so they had their run out to sea; but twenty-four hours of it sufficed—it became monotonous.

“i think we’d better go back now,” suggested mabberly.

“agreed,” said his companions.

“iss it goin’ back you’ll be?” asked the skipper.

“yes. don’t you think we may as well turn now?” said mabberly, who made it a point always, if possible, to carry the approbation of the skipper with him.

“i think it wass petter if we had niver come oot.”

“why so, captain?”

“because it’s comin’ on to plow. putt her roond, shames.”

james mcgregor, to whom the order was given, and who was the other man of the crew, obeyed. the yacht, which had latterly been beating against a headwind, now ran gaily before it towards the scottish coast, but when night closed in no outlying islands were visible.

“we wull hev to keep a sharp look-oot, shames,” remarked the skipper, as he stopped in his monotonous perambulation of the deck to glance at the compass.

“oo, ay,” responded mcgregor, with the air of a man who knew that as well as his superior.

“what do you fear?” asked mabberly, coming on deck at the moment to take a look at the night before turning in.

“i fear naething, sir,” replied mcpherson, gravely.

“i mean, what danger threatens us?”

“none that i ken o’; but we’re makin’ the land, an’ it behooves us to ca’ canny.”

it may be well to remark here that the skipper, having voyaged much on all parts of the scottish coast, had adopted and mixed up with his own peculiar english several phrases and words in use among the lowland scots.

next morning, when mabberly again visited the deck, he found the skipper standing on the same spot where he had left him, apparently in the same attitude, and with the same grave, sleepless expression on his cast-iron features. the boy, robin tips, was at the helm, looking very sleepy. he was an english boy, smart, active, and wide-awake—in the slang sense—in which sense also we may add that he was “cheeky.”

but neither the skipper nor tips was very visible at the distance of three yards, owing to a dense fog which prevailed. it was one of those white, luminous, dry fogs which are not at all depressing to the spirits, though obstructive to the eyes, and which are generally, if not always, accompanied by profound calm.

“has it been like this long?” asked mabberly, after the first salutations.

“ay, sir, a coot while.”

“and have we made no progress during the night?”

“oo, ay, a coot bit. we should nae be far off some o’ the islands noo, but it’s hard to say, wi’ naither sun, moon, nor stars veesible to let us fin’ oot where we are.”

jackman and barret came on deck at the moment, closely followed by quin, who, quietly ignoring the owner of the yacht, went up to his master and said—

“tay’s riddy, sor.”

“breakfast, you mean,” said mabberly, with a smile.

“sure i wouldn’t conterdick—ye, sor, av ye was to call it supper—but it was tay that i put in the pot.”

at breakfast the conversation somehow turned upon boats—ship’s boats—and their construction.

“it is quite disgraceful,” said jackman, “the way in which government neglects that matter of boats. some things, we know, will never be generally adopted unless men are compelled to adopt them. another biscuit, barret.”

“instance something, giles,” said mabberly, “and pass the butter. i hate to hear sweeping assertions of an indefinite nature, which no one can either corroborate or confute.”

“well, there is the matter of lowering boats into the water from a ship’s davits. now, i’ll be bound that the apparatus for lowering your little punt astern is the ordinary couple of blocks—one at the stem, the other at the stern?”

“of course it is. what then?”

“why, then, don’t you know what would happen if you were lowering that boat full of people in a rough sea, and the man at the bow failed to unhook his block at the exact same moment as the man at the stern?”

“yes, i know too well, giles, for i have seen it happen. the boat, on the occasion i refer to, was hung up by one of the blocks, all the people were dropped into the water, and several of the women and children drowned. but how is government to remedy that?”

“thus, bob, thus. there is a splendid apparatus invented by somebody which holds fast the two blocks. by means of an iron lever worked by one man, the rod is disengaged from both blocks at the same instant. you cannot work it wrong if you tried to do so. now, the government has only to compel the adoption of that apparatus in the royal and merchant navies, and the thing is done.”

“then, again,” continued jackman, devouring food more ravenously in proportion as he warmed with his subject, “look at the matter of rafts. how constantly it happens that boats get swamped and lost while being launched in cases of shipwreck at sea, and there is nothing left for the crews and passengers, after the few remaining boats are filled, save loose spars or a hastily and ill-made raft; for of course things cannot be well planned and constructed in the midst of panic and sudden emergency. now, it has been suggested, if not actually carried out, that mattresses should be made of cork, with bands and straps to facilitate buckling them together, and that a ship’s chairs, tables, camp-stools, etcetera, should be so constructed as to be convertible into rafts, which might be the means of saving hundreds of lives that would, under present arrangements, inevitably be lost. why, i ask, does not government see to this? have a special committee appointed to investigate, find out the best plan, and compel its adoption? men will never do this. they are too obstinate. what’s wanted is that our ladies should take it up, and howl with indignation till it is done.”

“my dear giles, ladies never howl,” said barret, quietly tapping the end of an egg; “they smile, and gently insinuate—that is always sufficient, because irresistible!”

“well, being a bachelor i cannot say much on that point,” returned jackman. “but i was not aware that you were married?”

“neither am i; but i have a mother and sisters, aunts and cousins, and i know their ways.”

“if such are their ways, i must get you to introduce me to them,” said the woods-and-forester. “come on deck, now, and i will give you a practical illustration of what might be done.”

jackman, being an enthusiast, always went at things, “with a will.”

“bring me a hen-coop, quin,” he said to the steward, who, having so far completed his morning work, and consumed his morning meal, was smoking his pipe, seated on the rail beside tips. tips was an admirer of the irishman, and, in consequence, an imitator as far as he dared and was permitted.

“lend a hand, ye spalpeen,” said quin, going forward, and quickly returning with the coop, from which a cackling of strong remonstrance issued.

“will ye have the other wan too, sor?”

“yes, and the main-hatch besides, and a lot of spun-yarn. of course that’s not strong enough for real service, but it will do for illustration.”

in a few minutes the two hen-coops were placed face to face and lashed firmly together, despite the remonstrative poultry. then the main-hatch was laid upon the top, and fixed there by means of the iron rings at its four corners.

“now, quin, fetch four of the cabin chairs,” said the operator, “and observe, gentlemen, how much more easily and quickly this would have been accomplished if the coops, and hatch, and chairs had been made to fit into each other, with a view to this very purpose, with strong straps and buckles in handy positions. now, then, for the chairs.”

at each corner of this extemporised raft jackman fastened one of the cabin chairs, pointing out, as he did so, that there was no limit to the extension of the raft.

“you see,” he continued, “all you would have to do, if the ship were properly fitted out, would be to add chair to chair, bench to bench, cork mattress to mattress, until your raft was as big as you wanted; or you could make two or three rafts, if preferable.”

“but sure, sor, it would be an unstiddy machine intirely, an’ given to wobblin’,” said quin, who was one of those privileged men who not only work for their wages, but generously throw their opinions into the bargain.

“it would not be more unsteady than the waves, quin; and as to wobbling, that would be an advantage, for a rigid raft in a rough sea would be more liable to be damaged than one that was pliable.”

the discussion about rafts and ship’s boats which thus began was continued with much interest till lunchtime, for it chanced that john barret was one of those men whose tendency of heart and mind is to turn everything to its best uses, and generally to strive after the highest point of perfection in everything, with a view to the advancement of human felicity. this tendency called into exercise his inventive faculties, inducing him to search after improvements of all descriptions. thus it was natural that he and jackman should enter into a keen controversy as to what was the best method of constructing the raft in detail; and that, when the faithful quin announced lunch as being, “riddy, sor,” the life-saving machine was left in an incomplete state on the deck.

the interest attaching to this discussion had helped the three comrades and crew alike to tide over what might otherwise have proved a tedious forenoon, for during the whole of that day the dense fog and profound calm continued.

on returning to the deck the discussion was continued for a time, but gradually the interest flagged, then other subjects engaged attention, and the raft was finally allowed to lie undisturbed and forgotten.

“i don’t know how it is,” said bob mabberly; “but somehow i always feel a depression of spirits in a fog at sea.”

“explanation simple enough,” returned jackman; “are we not constantly reading in the papers of ships being run down in fogs? where there is risk there is always in some minds anxiety—in your case you call it depression of spirits.”

“your explanation, giles, uncomplimentary to me though it be, might have some force if we were just now in the channel, where being run down in fog is an event of frequent occurrence; but here, in a comparatively unfrequented sea, it would be strange indeed were i to be influenced by such possibilities. what say you, captain?”

mcpherson, who had sauntered towards the group, gazed in the direction where the horizon would have been visible had the fog been absent, and said:—

“hm!—weel—” and then stopped, as if for the purpose of mature consideration. the audience waited for the announcement of the oracle’s opinion.

“oo ay—weel, ye see, many persons are strangely influenced by possibeelities, what-?-ver. there is a maiden aunt o’ my own—she wass niver marrit, an’ she wass niver likely to be, for besides bein’ poor an’ plain, an’ mittle-aged, which are not in my opeenion objectionable, she had an uncommon bad temper. yet she wass all her life influenced by the notion that half the young men o’ the place wass wantin’ to marry her! though the possibeelities in her case wass fery small.”

“i should like to ’ave know’d that old gurl!” whispered tips to quin.

“howld your tongue, ye spalpeen!” whispered his friend in reply.

“have you any idea, captain, where we are now?” asked jackman.

“oo ay, we’re somewhere’s wast’ard o’ the lewis. but whether wast, nor’-wast, or sooth-wast, i could not say preceesely. the nicht, ye see, wass uncommon dark, an’ when the fog came doon i’ the mornin’, i could na’ feel sure we had keep it the richt coorse, for the currents hereaboots are strang. but we’ll see whan it comes clear.”

“do you believe in presentiments, giles?” asked barret, in an unusually grave tone.

“of course i do,” answered jackman. “i have a presentiment just now that you are going to talk nonsense.”

barret was not, however, to be silenced by his friend’s jest.

“listen,” he said, earnestly, as he rose and stood in an attitude of intense attention. “it may be imagination playing with the subjects of our recent conversation, but i cannot help thinking that i hear the beating of paddles.”

“keep a sherp look-oot, shames,” cried the skipper, suddenly, as he went forward with unwonted alacrity.

a few minutes more and the sound which had at first been distinguished only by barret’s sharp ear, became audible to all—the soft regular patting of a paddle-wheel steamer in the distance, yet clearly coming towards them. presently a shrill sound, very faint but prolonged, was heard, showing that she was blowing her steam-whistle as a precaution.

“strange, is it not, that the very thing we have been talking about should happen?” said mabberly.

“nay,” returned jackman, lightly, “we were talking about being run down, and we have not yet come to that.”

“the strangest thing of all to me,” said barret, “is that, with a wide ocean all round, vessels should ever run into each other at all, at least on the open sea, for there is only one line, a few feet wide, in favour of such an accident, whereas there are thousands of miles against it.”

jackman, who was a great theorist, here propounded a reason for this.

“if vessels would only hold straight on their courses, you see,” he said, “the accident of collision would be exceedingly rare, for, although thousands of ships might pass near to each other, not one in ten thousand would meet; but when vessels come pretty near, their commanders sometimes become anxious, take fancies into their heads, as to each having forgotten the ‘rules of the road,’ and each attempting to correct the other—as we do sometimes in the streets—they bring about the very disaster they are trying to avoid.”

“had we not better ring the bell, captain?” cried mabberly, in rising excitement.

“oo ay, if you think so, sir. ring, poy!”

the boy, who was getting alarmed, seized the tongue of the ship’s bell, and rang with all his might. whether this had the effect to which jackman had referred, we cannot tell, but next moment what appeared to be a mountain loomed out of the mist. the steam-whistle had been silent for some time, but as soon as the bell was heard it burst forth with increased fury. from the instant her form was dimly seen the fate of the yacht was sealed. there was a wild shouting on board the steamer, but there was no time for action.

“starboard hard!” was the cry.

“starboard it is!” was the immediate answer. but before the helm could act, the great rushing mass struck the fairy amidships, and literally cut her in two!

the awful suddenness of a catastrophe, which those on board had just been arguing was all but impossible, seemed to have paralysed every one, for no one made the slightest effort to escape. perhaps the appearance of the wall-like bow of the steamer, without rope or projection of any kind to lay hold of, or jump at, might have conveyed the swift perception that their case was hopeless. at all events, they all went under with the doomed yacht, and nothing was left in the wake of the leviathan but a track of foam on the mist-encumbered sea.

but they were not lost! one after another the wrecked party rose struggling to the surface, and all of them could swim except the boy.

giles jackman was the first who rose. treading water and brushing the hair out of his eyes, he gazed wildly about. barret came up close beside him, almost a moment later. he had barely taken breath, when the others rose at various distances. a cry not far from him caused him to turn. it was poor robin tips, struggling for life. a few powerful strokes carried barret alongside. he got behind the boy, caught him under the armpits, and thus held him, at arm’s length, until he could quiet him.

“there is a spar, thank god! make for it, barret, while i see to quin,” shouted jackman.

as he spoke, they could hear the whistle of the steamer rushing away from them.

barret, forcing himself breast-high out of the water, glanced quickly round and caught sight of the floating spar to which his companion had referred. although only a few yards off, the fog rendered it almost invisible.

“are you quiet now?” demanded barret, in a stern voice, for the terrified boy still showed something like a hysterical determination to turn violently round, and grasp his rescuer in what would probably have turned out to be the grip of death.

“yes, sir, oh! yes. but d–don’t let me go! m–mind, i can’t swim!”

“you are perfectly safe if you simply do nothing but what i tell you,” returned barret, in a quiet, ordinary tone of voice, that reassured the poor lad more than the words.

by way of reply he suddenly became motionless, and as limp as a dead eel.

getting gradually on his back, and drawing tips slowly on to his chest, so that he rested with his mouth upwards, and his head entirely out of the water, barret struck out for the spar, swimming thus on his back.

on reaching it, he found to his surprise that it was the experimental raft, and that the captain, mabberly, and mcgregor were already clinging to it.

“won’t bear us all, i fear,” said mabberly; “but thank god that we have it. put the boy on.”

in order to do this, barret had to get upon the raft, and he found that it bore him easily as well as the boy.

“have you seen jackman?” asked mabberly.

“yes,” replied barret, rising and looking round.

“here he comes, towing quin, i think, who seems to be stunned. hallo! this way—hi! giles!”

but giles suddenly ceased to swim, turned over on his back, and lay as if dead.

“rescue, bob, rescue!” shouted barret, plunging into the water. mabberly followed, and soon had hold of giles and his man by the hair.

“all right!” said jackman, turning round; “i was only taking a rest. no one lost, i hope?”

“no; all safe, so far.”

“you can tow him in now. i’m almost used up,” said jackman, making for the raft. “he’s only stunned, i think.”

it was found that the irishman had in truth been only stunned when they lifted him on to the raft, for he soon began to show signs of returning life, and a large bump on his head sufficiently explained the nature of his injury.

but when the whole party had cautiously clambered up on the raft it sank so deep that they scarcely dared to move. to make matters worse, they clearly distinguished the steamer’s whistle going farther and farther away, as if she were searching for them in a wrong direction. this was indeed the case, and although they all shouted singly and together, the whistle grew fainter by degrees, and finally died away.

with feelings approaching to despair, the crew of the frail raft began to talk of the prospect before them, when they were silenced by a slight movement in the mist. the white curtain was lifted for a few yards, and revealed to their almost incredulous eyes a rocky shore, backed by a range of precipitous cliffs, with a wild mountainous region beyond.

as the sea was still perfectly calm, there was no surf. our castaways, therefore, with the exception of quin and the boy, quietly slipped into the water, and, with thankful hearts, propelled the raft vigorously towards the shore.