Donald Ross of Heimra (Volume 3 of 3)

Donald Ross stepped into the boat, and took his seat in the stern.

"Come away, then, lads; for if we are to set out on our travels, we must make a hasty start. Did you look at the glass this morning, Coinneach? And there is a thick bank of cloud rising in the west: we shall not want for wind, I'm thinking, when we get outside. And as for getting under way at a moment's notice, well, we can put in stores and everything else that is wanted when we are safe in Portree Harbour, with a little time to spare. For there is wild weather coming, Coinneach, if I am not mistaken; but anything is better than being storm-stayed at Heimra, when it is to the south you wish to be going."

And he himself helped the two men to get the vessel in readiness when they had got on board – ordering them, as a preliminary precaution, to take down a couple of reefs in the mainsail. For even here in this sheltered little bay, the omens were inauspicious; the sky had grown dark and the wind had risen; there was a low and troubled and continuous murmur from the out-jutting spur on the north.

"It is an angry-looking day to be leaving Heimra," young Ross said; "but perhaps there is no one wishing us to remain at Heimra; and you and I, Coinneach, have been companions before now. And if I am asking you to go away in a hurry, well, there will be time to get all we want at Portree."

"And what do I want," said Coinneach, "except tobacco? And it is not even that would hinder me from going wherever Mr. Ross wishes to be going."

The young master went aft to the tiller. As the yacht slowly crept forward he turned for a moment and glanced towards the island they were leaving.

"Poor old Martha," he said to himself; "I must try to find another place for her somewhere and get her away; it would be the breaking of her heart if she were to see strangers come to take possession of Eilean Heimra."

On Eilean Heimra he bestowed this single farewell glance; but on Lochgarra none. When they got outside into the heavily-running seas he did not turn once to look at the distant bay and its strip of cottages, nor yet at the promontory where the sharp gusts of the gale were already ploughing waves along the tops of the larchwoods surrounding Lochgarra House. The affected cheerfulness with which he had addressed the two sailors on setting forth was gone now; his face was pale and worn; the mouth stern; the eyes clouded and dark. But he had his hands full; for every moment the weather became more threatening.

"Calum," he called out, "go below and fetch me up my oil-skins. We are going to catch something pretty soon."

And so – amid this wild turmoil of driven skies and black-rolling seas – the Sirène bore away for the south.

And meanwhile at yonder big building among the wind-swept larches? All the long and terrible night Mary Stanley had neither slept nor thought of sleeping; she had not even undressed; she had kept walking up and down her room in a fever of agitation; or she had sate at the table, her hands clasped over her forehead, striving to shut out from her memory that dire succession of scenes, those haunting visions that seemed to have been burned into her brain. And if they would not go? – then blindly and stubbornly would she refuse to admit that they lent any air of credibility to this tale that had been told her. Nay, she abased herself; and overwhelmed herself with reproaches; and called herself the meanest of living creatures, in that she could have believed, even for one frantic moment, that base and malignant fabrication. Why, had she not known all along of the deadly animosity that Purdie, for some reason or another, bore towards young Ross and all his family? Had she not herself discovered that previous charges against Donald Ross owned no foundation other than a rancorous and reckless spite? And she had taken the unsupported testimony of one who appeared to be out of his mind with malice and hatred against the man who was her lover, as he and she knew in their secret hearts? In one second of unreasoning impulse she had destroyed all those fair possibilities that lay within her grasp; she had ruined her life; and wounded to the quick the one that was dearest to her in all the world. And well she knew how proud and relentless he was: he had forgiven much, to her and hers; but this he would never forgive. It was more than an insult; it was a betrayal: what would he think of her, even if she could go to him, and make humble confession, and implore his pardon? How could she explain that instant of panic following her first indignant repudiation – then the hapless chance that brought him face to face with her – then the fierce revolt of a maiden soul against contamination – alas! all in a sudden bewilderment of error, that could never be atoned for now. What must he think of her? – she kept repeating to herself – of her, faithless, shameless, who had spurned his loyal trust in her? If she went and grovelled in the very dust before him, and stretched out her hands towards him, he would turn away from her. remorseless and implacable. She was not worthy of his disdain.

And nevertheless, upbraid herself as she might, she still beheld before her aching eyes those two figures on the Garra bridge, followed by the swift disappearance of the girl into the woods; and again she saw her down at the shore, entreating to be taken out to Heimra Island and piercing the silence with her despair when she was left behind. It was not Purdie who had shown her these things; it was of her own knowledge she knew them; they had started up before her, in corroboration of his impeachment, even as he spoke. But what if she were to accept his challenge? What if she were to go to Anna Chlannach herself? He had declared she was his witness – his living witness. If there were any foundation for this terrible story, she would confess the truth: if, as Mary Stanley strove to convince herself, the charge was nothing but a deliberate and malevolent invention, she would be able to hurl the black falsehood back in his teeth. He had challenged her to go to Anna Chlannach: to Anna Chlannach she would go.

And then (as the blue-grey light of the dawn appeared in the window-panes) a sense of her utter helplessness came over her. That poor, half-witted creature knew no word of English. And how was she to appeal to any third person, asking for intervention? How could she demean herself by repeating such a story, and by admitting even the possibility of its being true? Nay more: might not her motives be misconstrued? What would the third person, the interpreter, think of these shamefaced inquiries? That the mistress of Lochgarra House was moved by an angry jealousy of that poor wandering waif? That Mary Stanley and Anna Chlannach were in the position of rivals? Her cheeks burned. Not in that way could she find the means of hurling back Purdie's monstrous accusation.

The white daylight broadened over land and sea; and away out yonder was Heimra Island, shining all the fairer because of the black and slow-moving wall of cloud along the western horizon. What had happened since yesterday, then? She hardly knew: she knew only that her heart lay heavy within her bosom, and that despair instead of sleep seemed to weigh down her eyelids. Was it only yesterday that she had been away up at Loch Heimra, imagining it once more a sheet of water, and pleasing herself with the fancy that some afternoon she would bring her lover along the road with her, to show him what she had done to make meek amends? Yesterday, when she thought of him, which was often enough, joy had filled her whole being, and kindness, and gratitude, and well-wishing to the universal world. Yesterday he and she were friends; and to look forward to their next meeting was to her a secret delight which she could dwell upon, even in talking with strangers. But now – this new day: what had it brought her, that she was so numb, and cold, and hopeless? And what was this that lay so heavy in her breast?

Suddenly she sprang to her feet – her eyes staring. A boat was creeping out from the southernmost headland of Eilean Heimra. It was a small vessel with sails: it was the Sirène, she made sure. And was he coming ashore now – coming straight to Lochgarra House, as was his wont – coming, in open and manly fashion to demand an explanation from her? And even if he were to upbraid her, and shower anger and scorn upon her, what then? – so long as he showed himself not wholly unforgiving, so long as he allowed her to speak. But as she stood at the window there, intently watching the distant ship, a shuddering suspicion seemed to paralyse her. The Sirène was not coming this way at all: it was slowly, gradually, unmistakably making for the south. And no sooner had this fear become a certainty than the world appeared to swim around her. There was to be no explanation, then? – not even that torrent of bitter and angry reproach? He was going away – silent, stern, inexorable? This was his answer? He would not stoop to demand explanations: he would simply withdraw? It was not fit that he should mate or match with such as she.

And at the same moment she caught sight of Big Archie, who was pulling out to his boat. In her terror, and despair, and helplessness, she did not think twice; her resolution was formed in a moment; she threw a shawl over her head and shoulders, and fled downstairs, and out into the open. Quickly she made her way along the beach.

"Archie!" she called, in the teeth of the wind. "Archie! Archie! I want you! – come ashore, quick!"

The heavy-shouldered and heavy-bearded fisherman, who was still in the smaller boat, paused on his oars for a second; and then, probably understanding more from her gestures than from her words what she wished, he headed round and made for the beach. And before he had reached the land she had called to him again.

"Archie, that is the Sirène– going away from Heimra?"

"Yes, indeed, mem," said Archie.

"You must take me out in your lugger, Archie," she said, in a frenzied sort of way. "There's not a moment to be lost: even if you can't sail as quick as they can, never mind – we will get some distance after them – they will see us – we can signal to them – "

The bow of the small boat rose on the shingle and seaweed; Big Archie stepped out and pulled it up a bit further. He did not quite understand at first what was demanded of him; perhaps he was a trifle scared by the unusual look on Miss Stanley's face – the pallid cheeks, the piteous and anxious eyes; but when he did comprehend, his answer was a serious and earnest remonstrance.

"Aw, Dyeea, do you not see what it is threatening out there?" said he, quite concerned.

"I do not care about that," she answered him. "If the Sirène can go out, so can you. And you have the sail up, Archie!"

"Ay, ay, indeed," he explained, "bekass I was thinking of going round to Ru Gobhar, to hef a look at the lobster-traps. But when I was seeing the bad weather threatening, and the glass down, then I was just going out to the boat to get the sail lowered again and the young lad brought ashore. It is just anything I would do to please Miss Stanley; but it is looking very, very bad; and we could not catch up on the Sirène whatever – aw, no! – it is no use to think my boat could get near to the Sirène, and her a first-class yat and a fine sailer. And Miss Stanley getting very wet, too, for there's a heavy sea outside – "

"Archie," she said, in an imploring voice, "if you are a friend of mine, you will try! You will try to stop the Sirène– cannot we make some signal to her? And you said the young lad was in the boat? – and the sail is up – we could get away at once – "

"Oh, if you wish it, mem, that is enough for me," he said; and presently he had got her into the stern of the small boat, had shoved off, and was pulling out to the big, brown-sailed lugger.

Archie had moorings in the bay, so that they lost no time in setting forth. And at first everything went well enough; for they had merely to beat out against the swirls of wind that came into the sheltered harbour; and the water was comparatively smooth. But when they got into the open they found a heavy sea running; and the lugger began to dip her bows and fling flying showers of spray down to the stern; while the bank of black cloud in the west was slowly advancing, heralded by torn shreds of silver that chased each other across the menacing sky. Big Archie took off his jacket and offered it to Miss Stanley, to shield her from the wet; but she obstinately refused, and bade him put it on again: her sole and whole attention was fixed on the phantom-grey yacht down there in the south, that was every other moment hidden from view by the surging crests of the waves. She had to cling to the gunwale, to prevent her being hurled from her seat; for the lugger was labouring sorely, and staggering under these successive shocks; but all the same her eyes, though they smarted from the salt foam, were following the now distant Sirène with a kind of wild entreaty in them, as though she would fain have called across the waste of waters.

"Can they see us, Archie? – can they see us?" she cried. "Could not the boy climb up to the mast-head and wave something?"

"Aw, no, mem," said Archie, "they are too far aweh. They are far too far aweh. And they are not knowing we are looking towards them."

"But if we keep right on to Heimra?" said she, in her desperation. "Surely they will see we are making for the island – they will come back – "

"They would just think it was the Gillie Ciotach going out to look after the lobster-traps," said Archie.

"Not in this weather!" she urged. "Not in this weather! They must see it is something of importance. They will see the boat going out to Heimra – they are sure to come back, Archie – they are certain to come back!"

"We will hold on for Heimra if you wish it, mem – but there's a bad sea getting up," said Archie, with his eye on those tumultuous swift-running masses of water, the crashing into which caused even this heavy craft to quiver from stem to stern. By this time the heavens had still further darkened around them – a boding gloom, accompanied, as it was, by a fitful howling of wind; while rain was falling in torrents. Not that this latter mattered very much, for they were all of them drenched to the skin by the seas that were leaping high from the lugger's bows; only that the deluge thickened all the air, so that it became more and more difficult to catch a glimpse of the now fast-receding Sirène. Archie paid but little attention to the yacht; he seemed to have no hope of attracting her notice; but he was greatly distressed about the condition of the young mistress of Lochgarra.

"If I had known, mem – if I had known early in the moarning – I would hef brought something to cover you," said he, in accents of deep commiseration. "It is a great peety – "

"Never mind about that, Archie," said she. "Don't you think they must know now that we are making for Heimra?"

"They are a long weh aweh," said Big Archie, shaking the salt water from his eyebrows and beard. "And they will be looking after themselves now. It was a stranche thing for Mr. Ross to put out with a storm coming on."

"Is there any danger, Archie?" she said, quickly. "Are they going into any danger?"

Archie was silent for a second.

"I am not knowing what would mek Mr. Ross start out on a moarning like this," said he. "And where he is going I cannot seh. But he is one that knows the signs of the weather – aw, yes, mem! – and it is likely he will make in for Gairloch, or Loch Torridon, or mebbe he will get as far down as the back of Rona Island —

"No, no, Archie, he must see us – he cannot help seeing us!" she exclaimed. "When we are getting close to Heimra, then he cannot help seeing us – he will understand – and surely he will come back!"

And meanwhile the gale had been increasing in fury: the wind moaning low and whistling shrill alternately, the high-springing spray rattling down on the boat with a noise as of gravel. The old lugger groaned and strained and creaked – burying herself – shaking herself – reeling before the ponderous blows of the surge; but Archie gave it her well; there was no timorous shivering up into the wind. His two hands gripped the sheet – the tiller under his arm; his feet were wedged firm against the stone ballast; his mouth set hard; his eyes clear enough in spite of the driving rain and whirling foam. And now this island of Heimra was drawing nearer – if the Sirène far away in the south had almost vanished.

"Look now, Archie! – look now, for I can see nothing," she said, piteously.

He raised himself somewhat; and scanned the southern horizon, as well as the heaving and breaking billows would allow.

"Aw, no, mem, the Sirène is not in sight at ahl – not in sight at ahl now," he said.

She uttered a stifled little cry, as of despair.

"Archie," she said, "could you not follow down to Loch Torridon?"

"Aw, God bless us, mem, the boat would not live long in a sea like this – it is getting worse and worse every meenit – "

"Very well," said she, wearily, "very well. You have done what you could, Archie: now there is nothing but to get away back home again."

But that was not at all Big Archie's intention.