The Green Ray Read Online

However this may be, it was their opinion that all would turn out well, especially if this whimsical ray would but allow itself to be seen.

Meanwhile, Aristobulus eyed Oliver Sinclair over his spectacles, a frequent habit with short-sighted people, who want to look without seeming to do so; and what he saw—the young man’s assiduous attention to Miss Campbell, and the amiable manner in which she always received him—was not altogether calculated to please him, but highly confident in his own powers of attraction, he maintained a very proper reserve.

Meantime, this changeable weather was enough to try any one’s patience to the utmost. In the hope of seeing a clear horizon at sunset, were it but for a few moments, they made two or three excursions to the island of Seil, in which Aristobulus could not find time to join. But all in vain! the 23rd of August arrived without any sight of the phenomenon.

This fancy had become a fixed and besetting idea, which left no room for anything else; they dreamt of it night and day, till one might have feared it would engender some new kind of monomania. Under this one intense thought, colours all seemed to be transformed into one shade: the blue sky became green, the roads were green, the sea-shore was green, the rocks were green, water and wine seemed green as absinthe; even the brothers imagined they were dressed in green, and felt like two big paroquets, taking green snuff out of a green snuff-box. In fact, it was a case of green fever! They were all seized with a kind of daltonism, and oculists might have had wherewithal to make interesting notes in their ophthalmological reviews. This state of things could not last long.

Fortunately Oliver Sinclair hit upon an idea.

“Miss Campbell,” said he one day, “and you, gentlemen, it seems to me that, considering everything, Oban is not the best place possible for our observation of the phenomenon in question.”

“And whose fault is that?” replied Miss Campbell, looking at the two culprits, who held down their heads.

“Here, there is no sea-horizon!” continued the young artist, “so that we are obliged to go as far as Seil to get one, at the risk too of not arriving there at the right moment.

“This is very evident,” said Miss Campbell; “in fact, I don’t know why my uncles ever thought of choosing this horrible place for our experiment.”

“My dear Helena!” exclaimed her Uncle Sam, scarcely knowing what to say, “we thought—”

“Yes, we thought—the same thing—” added Uncle Sib, coming to his brother’s assistance.

“That the sun would most certainly set every evening upon the horizon at Oban—”

“Since Oban is situated on the sea-coast!”

“And you thought wrong, uncles,” replied Miss Campbell; “very wrong, indeed, as it never sets there.”

“Just so,” resumed Sam, “it is those tiresome islands which obstruct our view.”

“You really don’t intend to have them blown up?” asked Miss Campbell.

“It should have been done long ago, had it been possible,” replied Sib, in a decided tone.

“Nevertheless, we cannot go and take up our abode on the island of Seil,” observed Sam.

“And why not?”

“If you absolutely wish it, dear Helena—”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Let us go, then!” said the brothers, with an air of resignation. And these two submissive beings declared themselves ready to leave Oban at once.

Here Oliver Sinclair interposed.

“Miss Campbell,” said he, “unless you have set your heart upon it, I think you might do better than take up your quarters at Seil.”

“Let us hear your opinion, Mr. Sinclair; and if your advice is good, my uncles will not refuse to follow it.”

The brothers nodded assent with an automatical movement so identical that never perhaps had they looked so much alike.

“The island of Seil,” continued Oliver Sinclair, “is most certainly not adapted for a lengthened stay, not even for a few days. If you have to exercise your patience, Miss Campbell, it will but be for your ultimate benefit. Besides, I have noticed at Seil that the view of the sea is somewhat limited by the configuration of the coast. If, by chance, we had to wait longer than we thought for, and our stay were prolonged for some weeks, it might happen that the sun, which is now retrograding towards the west, would at last set behind Colonsay, or Oransay, or even Islay, and our observation would again be baffled, for want of a sufficiently large expanse of sea.”

“Truly,” replied Miss Campbell, “this would be the last blow to our ill-fortune—”

“And which we can perhaps avoid by looking for a place beyond this archipelago, bounded only by the wide Atlantic.”

“And do you know of such a place, Mr. Sinclair?” eagerly asked Miss Campbell.

The brothers anxiously awaited the young man’s answer. What would he reply? Where on earth would their niece’s caprice finally land them? Upon what farmost extremity of the globe would they have to settle themselves in order to satisfy her whim?

Oliver Sinclair’s reply at once reassured them.

“Miss Campbell,” said he, “not far from here, there is an island which seems to me to be just the place. It is situated beyond the heights of Mull, which shut in the western horizon of Oban, and is one of the smallest of the Hebrides, standing out farthest into the Atlantic; it is the charming island of Iona.”

“Iona!” cried Miss Campbell, “Iona, uncles, oh! why are we not there now?”

“We will be there to-morrow,” replied Sib.

“To-morrow, before sunset,” added Sam.

“Let us be off, then,” said Miss Campbell, “and if we do not find at Iona a wide expanse of sea, you must understand, uncles, we will search for some other point on the coast, from John o’ Groat’s to the Land’s End, and if that does not do—”

“It is very simple,” said Oliver Sinclair, “we will go round the world!”

CHAPTER XIII
THE GLORIES OF THE SEA

If any one showed signs of vexation at the decision arrived at, it was Mr. MacFyne, the hotel-keeper; had it been possible, he would have had every island lying in front of Oban blown up. The worthy man had to console himself, when his visitors were gone, by regretting that he had ever taken in such a party of monomaniacs.

At eight o’clock in the morning Miss Campbell, her uncles, Dame Bess, and Partridge, embarked on the “swift steamer Pioneer” as said the prospectus, which made the trip round Mull, calling at Iona and Staffa, and returning to Oban the same evening.

Oliver Sinclair had gone down before them to the quay, and was awaiting his friends on the foot-bridge, between the paddle-boards of the steamer.

Aristobulus Ursiclos was not to be thought of for this trip, and yet the brothers were obliged to acquaint him with their sudden departure; it was only common politeness, and they were the most polite of men.

Aristobulus received the communication very coolly, and merely thanked them without saying a word as to his own plans.

Thus the brothers had gone off, contenting themselves with the thought that, though their protege was extremely reserved, and their niece somewhat averse to him, yet all would be changed one fine autumn evening after a beautiful sunset, which Iona could not fail to give them.

All the passengers being on board, the moorings were cast after the third shrill whistle had sounded, and the Pioneer steamed out of the bay, taking a southerly course for the straits of Kerera.

There were a good many tourists on board, attracted by this charming excursion round Mull, which takes place once or twice a week, but Miss Campbell and her companions were to leave them at the first landing-place.

They were all impatience to reach Iona, this new field for their observation. The weather was splendid, the sea calm as a lake, and there was every promise of a fine passage. If that same evening did not bring them the realization of their wishes, well! they would wait patiently, after having settled down on the island. There, at least, the curtain was always raised and the scenery ready, so that nothing but bad weather could come in the way.

They would reach their destination before midday. The Pioneer passed through the straits of Kerera, doubled the southern point of the island, steamed across the wide mouth of the Frith of Lorn, left behind Colonsay and its ancient abbey, built in the fourteenth century by the celebrated Lords of the Isles, and ranged along the southern coast of Mull, lying in the open sea, like an immense crab with one claw slightly curved towards the south-west. At one moment Ben More, clad with heather, lifted its rugged head three thousand two hundred feet above the range of distant hills, its rounded summit overlooking those pasture-lands, sharply divided by the imposing mass of Ardalanish point.

Then the picturesque island of Iona stood out against the north-west, almost at the end of the southern point of Mull, and beyond lay the vast Atlantic.

“Are you fond of the sea, Mr. Sinclair?” asked Miss Campbell of her young companion, who sat near her on the deck, gazing at the lovely prospect.

“Am I fond of it, Miss Campbell?” replied he. “Yes, and I am not one of those miserable individuals who find the sight of it monotonous! To me, nothing is more varied than its appearance, but one must see it under its different aspects. The sea takes so many shades of colour, marvellously blended, that it is perhaps more difficult for an artist to produce an effect at the same time uniform and varied, than to paint a face, however changeable the expression may be.”

“Yes,” said Helena, “it changes incessantly with the slightest breath of wind, and alters every hour of the day, according to the light with which it is impregnated.”

“Look at it now, Miss Campbell; it is perfectly calm! Does it not look like a lovely face asleep, in its unalterable serenity? It has not a wrinkle, it is young, it is beautiful! or, if you prefer it, it is an immense mirror, which reflects the sky, and in which God Himself is visible!”

“A mirror often dimmed by the breath of tempests!” added Miss Campbell.

“And,” continued Oliver Sinclair, “it is that which makes the great variety, in the aspect of the ocean! Let but a little wind arise, the face will change, will grow wrinkled, and hoary with feathery spray; it will look old in a moment, but it will still be grand with its fitful phosphorescence, and its’ foam-flecked waves.”

“Do you think, Mr. Sinclair,” asked Miss Campbell, “that any artist, however clever he may be, could reproduce all the beauties of the sea on canvas?”

“No, indeed, Miss Campbell, and how could he? The sea has really no colour of its own; it is but an immense reflection of the sky; if it is blue, it is not a blue that one can paint; if it is green, there is no green that will match it! It should rather be depicted in a tempest, when it is dark, gloomy and livid, when it seems as though sky and sea were blended! Ah! Miss Campbell, the more I see of it, the more I find the ocean sublime! Ocean! that word says everything! It is immensity! Unfathomable depths below it are regions beside which ours are deserts! as Darwin says. What, compared to it, are the vastest continents? Mere islands surrounded by its waters! it covers four-fifths of the globe! By incessant circulation, it is nourished by the vapours which it emits. Yes, the ocean is infinite, an infinity one cannot see, but feel, infinite as the space it reflects in its waters, as says one of the poets.”

“I like to hear you speak with such enthusiasm Mr. Sinclair,” said Miss Campbell, “and I quite share your feelings! Yes, I love the sea as much as you do.”

“And you will not be afraid of braving its perils?” asked Oliver.

“No, indeed, I shall not be afraid! Can one be afraid of what one admires?”

“Would you like to be a daring explorer?”

“Perhaps so, Mr. Sinclair,” replied Helena. “At any rate, of all the accounts of travels I have read, I prefer those relating to the discovery of distant seas.