The Green Ray Read Online

His companion, lying motionless in the stern, seemed to be deprived of all power of giving assistance.

Miss Campbell, filled with the keenest emotion, never took her eyes off this boat, which she had been the first to observe, and towards which, thanks to her earnest entreaties, the Glengary was now making her way.

Meanwhile, the situation grew more critical, and it was to be feared the steamer would not arrive in time. In order to avoid serious danger she was obliged to reduce her speed considerably, and, as it was, the water shipped over the bows, threatened to inundate the engine-room, and put out the fires—a contingency to be dreaded in this turbulent sea.

The captain, leaning upon the hand-rail of the bridge, was carefully watching that they were not driven out of their course, and skilfully manoeuvred so that they should not be caught amidships by the heavy seas.

The boat, however, could not free herself from the eddies. At times she was completely hidden behind some gigantic breaker, and then caught in the swirl of the gulf, was spun round and round like an arrow, or rather like a stone flung from a sling.

“Faster! Faster!” cried Miss Campbell, unable to repress her feelings.

But at the sight of the great foam-crested billows some of the passengers already uttered cries of alarm; and the captain, aware of the risk he was incurring, hesitated about going any nearer the Coryvrechan.

The distance between the boat and the Glengary was scarcely half a cable’s length, and the unhappy men, on the verge of destruction, could be distinctly recognized.

They were an old sailor and a young man, the former lying helpless at the stern, and the latter rowing with all his might.

At this moment a heavy sea struck the steamer, and rendered her situation critical.

The captain dare not venture any farther in the pass, and it was as much as he could do to prevent his ship from being drawn into the surging currents.

All at once the fishing-smack, after tossing for a moment on the crest of a great wave, disappeared.

There was a cry of horror on board!

Had the boat been swamped? No. Again she rose on the back of another wave, and one last desperate effort with the oars brought her alongside the steamer.

“Bravo! bravo!” cried the sailors at the bows, and they held in readiness a coil of ropes, watching for the moment to throw them.

Suddenly the captain gave the order to put on steam, the Glengary’s speed increased, and she ventured boldly between the two islands, whilst the boat again drew some fathoms nearer.

At this moment the ropes were thrown out, and seized by the man in the boat. The engines of the Glengary were reversed, in order to extricate her from this dangerous position, and she steamed back with the boat in tow.

Leaving his oars, the young man raised his companion in his arms, and, with the help of the sailors, hoisted him on board. The aged seaman had been disabled by a heavy sea whilst the boat was being drawn into the pass, and thus was totally incapable of helping his companion, who was left to depend entirely on his own efforts.

When at last the young man sprang on to the deck of the Glengary, he appeared to have lost none of his cool self-possession, his face was calm, and his whole bearing showed him capable of moral as well as physical courage.

His first care was to look after his companion, the owner of the smack, who was soon brought round by a stiff glass of grog.

“Mr. Oliver!” said he.

“Ah! my old friend,” replied the young man, “and what think you of this sea?”

“It is nothing! I have seen many the like of this, and it is going down already!”

“Yes, thank Heaven; but my imprudence nearly cost us our lives! But here we are safe and sound.”

“And by your efforts, Mr. Oliver.”

“No, by the help of God!”

And the young man, warmly grasping the seaman’s hands, made no attempt to conceal his emotion, which visibly affected all the passengers.

Then turning to the skipper, just as he was coming off the bridge—

“Captain,” said he, “I don’t know how to thank you enough for the service you have rendered us.”

“I only did my duty, sir,” replied the captain, “and, to tell the truth, you owe more thanks to my passengers than to me.”

The young man warmly shook the captain’s hand, and then turning to the passengers, he lifted his hat, and bowed gracefully to them.

Had not the Glengary arrived so opportunely, he and his companion would certainly have been lost.

During this exchange of civilities Miss Campbell had thought fit to retire. She did not wish attention to be drawn to the part she had played in this dramatic rescue. All of a sudden, as she stood on the bridge, her thoughts reverted to the object of her journey, and looking towards the western horizon, she exclaimed,—

“And what of the sunset, and the Green Ray?”

“No more sun for to-day!” said her Uncle Sam.

“No more chance of seeing the Green Ray!” added Sib.

It was too late, the sun had already disappeared below the wonderfully clear horizon, and had shot forth its Green Ray into space, whilst Miss Campbell’s thoughts were occupied with other matters. Thus an opportunity, which might perhaps be long in recurring, was lost!

“It is a pity,” she murmured; however, with little regret in her tone, as she considered all that had just happened.

Meanwhile the Glengary made her way out of the Coryvrechan Pass, and again resumed her northerly course. Giving his companion a last hearty grasp of the hand, the old seaman, now quite recovered, got back into his boat, and sailed for Jura.

As to the young man, whose leathern portmanteau had been put on board, he made one more tourist en route for Oban.

Leaving the islands of Shuna and Luing, where are the rich slate quarries belonging to the Marquis of Breadalbane, the steamer coasted along the isle of Seil, and a little later entering the Frith of Lorn, she steamed between the volcanic island of Kerera and the mainland. Then, as the shades of twilight deepened into night, she came to her moorings in the harbour of Oban.

CHAPTER VII
ARISTOBULUS URSICLOS

EVEN had there been as great a number of visitors on the beach of Oban as are to be found at Brighton, Ramsgate, or Margate, Aristobulus Ursiclos could not have failed to attract attention.

Without any pretence to be placed at the head of her rivals, Oban is a bathing-place much frequented by visitors from all parts of the United Kingdom. Its situation on the straits of Mull, sheltered from the western winds by the island of Kerera, attracts a great many people. Some come for the bathing, others make it a central point for excursions to Glasgow, Inverness, and the Hebrides. Here it must be added that Oban is not in the least, as many watering-places are, a kind of convalescent home. Most of the people who come to pass the hot summer months here are in good health, and one does not run the risk of playing whist with one dying, and two sick people.

Oban has only been built about fifty years, and has quite a modern air in the arrangement of its houses and streets; nevertheless, the church, a kind of Norman edifice with an elegant steeple, the old ivy-clad castle of Dunolly, standing on a rock at the north end, the panorama of white houses and pretty villas which rise on the background of hills, lastly, the peaceful waters of the bay, where graceful pleasure-boats lie at anchor, make a charming picture.

This year, and during this month of August, there was no lack of visitors at Oban. In the visitor’s book of one of the best hotels, among others more or less illustrious, the name of Aristobulus Ursiclos, of Dumfries, had figured for two or three weeks past.

He was a “person” of the age of twenty-eight, who had never been young, and probably would never be old; he gave one the impression of having been born at the age which he now appeared to be. His figure was neither good nor bad, his face very insignificant, with hair too fair for a man; he was short-sighted, and wore spectacles, and his small nose did not seem to belong to his face; of the 130,000 hairs which every human head ought to have, according to the latest statistics, he possessed about 60,000. He wore a beard round his cheeks and chin, which gave him rather the appearance of a monkey; had he been a monkey, he would have been a fine specimen, perhaps the missing link in the Darwinian theory.

Aristobulus was wealthy, but wealthier still in ideas, and yet the young savant, a graduate of the universities of Oxford and Edinburgh, was only clever enough to weary others with his universal knowledge; he knew more of the sciences of physic, chemistry, astronomy, and mathematics than of literature. He was very pretentious, but in reality it wanted but little to make him a perfect idiot. His chief mania, or his monomania if you like it better, was to give at random an explanation of the most natural things; in short, he was a pedant of a very disagreeable kind. One did not laugh at him because his remarks were laughable, but because he made himself so ridiculous. No one could have less claim to the motto of English Freemasons: Audi, vide, tace; he never listened, never saw anything, and was never silent. In a word, to borrow a comparison not inappropriate in this country of Walter Scott, Aristobulus Ursiclos, with his positive opinions, reminded one infinitely more of the Baillie Nicol Jarvie than his poetical cousin Rob Roy MacGregor.

And what daughter of the Highlands, without excepting Miss Campbell, would not have preferred Rob Roy to Nicol Jarvie?

Such was Aristobulus Ursiclos. How could the brothers have taken such a fancy to this pedant, and even have gone so far as to wish to be connected with him by marriage? How had he been able to make himself so agreeable to these worthy old gentlemen? Perhaps because he was the first who had made any overtures for the hand of their niece. With a kind of ingenuous delight the brothers had undoubtedly said to each other,—

“Here is a young man of good family, with a large fortune, which he has inherited from his parents and relatives, and, moreover, extraordinarily learned! He will be an excellent match for our dear Helena! This marriage can be easily brought about, and everything is most desirable.”

Thereupon they had offered each other snuff, and then had shut the box with a little click, which seemed to say,—

“That matter is settled.”

The brothers thought they had been very clever, thanks to this whim of the Green Ray, in bringing Miss Campbell to Oban. There, without any suspicion of an arranged plan, she would be able to resume her acquaintance with Aristobulus, which his absence had temporarily interrupted.

The hall of Helensburgh had been exchanged for the finest apartments in the Caledonian Hotel. If their stay at Oban should be prolonged it might be pleasanter to take some villa on the heights overlooking the town; but, meanwhile, with the assistance of Dame Bess and Partridge, all were comfortably settled in Master MacFyne’s establishment.

At nine o’clock next morning the brothers Melville left the hotel, and went in search of Aristobulus, while Miss Campbell, still asleep in her room on the first floor, was little dreaming of their errand.

Our two friends went down to the beach, and knowing that their niece’s soupirant was staying in one of the hotels on the north side of the bay, they walked in that direction.

It must be admitted that they were guided by a presentiment, for, ten minutes after they had started, Aristobulus, who was taking his usual morning walk in pursuit of science, on the beach, met them, and exchanged a formal greeting.

“Mr. Ursiclos!” exclaimed the brothers.

“You here, gentlemen?” replied Aristobulus, in a supercilious tone that betrayed no surprise.