The Eagle Cliff Part 24

"Muzzer says she is _sure_ Jesus will save you; so I came to tell you, for muzzer _never_ says what's not true."

Having delivered her consoling message, Flo ran back at once to Molly's cottage with the cheerful remark that it was all right now, for she had told Ivor that he was going to be saved!

While Mrs Gordon and Flo were thus engaged on sh.o.r.e, the boat party were rowing swiftly down the loch to the little hamlet of Drumquaich.

The weather was magnificent. Not a breath of air stirred the surface of the sea, so that every little white cloud in the sky was perfectly reproduced in the concave below. The gulls that floated on the white expanse seemed each to be resting on its own inverted image, and the boat would have appeared in similar aspect but for the shivering of the mirror by its oars.

"Most appropriate type of Sabbath rest," said Jackman.

"Ay, but like all things here pelow," remarked Ian Anderson, who possessed in a high degree the faculty of disputation, "it's not likely to last long."

"What makes you think so, Ian?" asked Milly, who sat in the stern of the boat between John Barret and Aggy Anderson.

"Well, you see, muss," began Ian, in his slow, nasal tone, "the gless has bin fallin' for some time past, an'--Tonal', poy, mind your helm; see where you're steerin' to!"

Donald, who steered, was watching with profound interest the operations of Junkie, who had slily and gravely fastened a piece of twine to a back b.u.t.ton of MacRummle's coat, and tied him to the thwart on which he sat.

Being thus sternly asked where he was steering to, Donald replied, "Oo, ay," and quickly corrected the course.

"But surely," returned Milly, "there is no sign of a rapid change, at least if we may judge from the aspect of Nature; and I am a fervent believer in Nature, whatever the gla.s.s may predict."

"I am not sure o' that, muss," said Ian. "You needn't pull quite so hard, Muster Mabberly; we hev plenty o' time. Tak it easy. Well, as I wa.s.s sayin', muss, I hev seen it as calm as this i' the mornin' mony a time, an' plowin' a gale at nicht."

"Let us hope that that won't be our experience to-day," said the laird.

"Anyhow, we have a good sea-boat under us."

"Weel, the poat's no' a pad wan, laird, but I hev seen petter. You see, when the wund iss richt astern, she iss given to trinkin'."

"That's like Ivor," said Junkie with a laugh; "only _he_ is given to drinkin', no matter how the wind blows."

"What do you mean?" asked Milly, much perplexed.

Barret here explained that a boat which takes in much water over the bow is said to be given to drinking.

"I'm inclined that way myself," said Jackman, who had been pulling hard at one of the oars up to that time.

"Has any one thought of bringing a bottle of water?"

"Here's a bottle," cried MacRummle, laughing.

"Ah, sure, an' there seems to be a bottle o' milk, or somethin' white under the th'ort," remarked Quin, who pulled the bow oar.

"But that's Milly's bottle of milk," shouted Junkie.

"And Aggy's," chimed in Eddie.

"Yes--no one must touch that," said Junkie.

"Quite right, boys," said Jackman; "besides, milk is not good for quenching thirst."

On search being made, it was found that water had not been brought with them, so that the thirsty rowers had to rest content without it.

"Is that Eagle Cliff I see, just over the knoll there?" asked Barret.

"It is," answered the laird; "don't you see the eagle himself like a black speck hovering above it? My shepherd would gladly see the bird killed, for he and his wife make sad havoc among the lambs sometimes; but I can't say that I sympathise with the shepherd. An eagle is a n.o.ble bird, and there are none too many of them now in this country."

"I agree with you heartily," said Barret; "and I would regard the man who should kill that eagle as little better than a murderer."

"_Quite_ as bad as a murderer!" said Milly with energy. "I am glad you speak out so clearly, Mr Barret; for I fear there are some among us who would not hesitate to shoot if the poor bird were to come within range."

"Pray don't look so pointedly at me, Miss Moss," said Jackman; "I a.s.sure you I have no intention of attempting murder--at least not in that direction."

"Och! an' it's murder enough you've done already for wan man," said Quin in an undertone.

"Oh! I say, that reminds me. Do tell us the rest of the story of the elephant hunt, Mr Jackman," cried Junkie.

"Not just now, my boy. It's a long story. Besides, we are on our way to church! Some other time I will tell it you."

"It would take half the romance away from my mother's visit if the eagle were killed," remarked Milly, who did not overhear the elephant parenthesis.

"Has your mother, then, decided to come?" asked Barret.

"Yes. In spite of the sea, which she dreads, and steamers, which she hates, she has made up her mind to come and take me home."

"How charming that will be!" said Barret.

"Indeed!" returned Milly, with a significant look and smile.

"Of _course_ I did not mean that," returned Barret, laughing. "I meant that it would be charming for you to have your mother out here, and to return home in her company. Is she likely to stay long?"

"I cannot tell. That depends on so many things. But I am sure of one thing, that she longs to see and thank you for the great service you rendered me on the day of your arrival here."

Barret began to protest that the service was a comparatively small one, and such as any man might gladly render to any one, when the arrival of the boat at the landing-place cut him short.

About thirty or forty people had a.s.sembled from the surrounding districts, some of whom had come four or even six miles to attend church. They formed a quiet, grave, orderly company of men and women in homespun garments, with only a few children among them. The arrival of the laird's party made a very considerable addition to the congregation, and, as the hour for meeting had already pa.s.sed by a few minutes, they made a general move towards the church.

The building was wonderfully small, and in the most severely simple style of architecture, being merely an oblong structure of grey stone, with small square windows, and a belfry at one end of the roof. It might have been mistaken for a cottage but for this, and the door being protected by a small porch, and placed at one end of the structure, instead of at the side.

A few of the younger men remained outside in conversation, awaiting the advent of the minister. After a time, however, these dropped in and took their seats, and people began to wonder why the minister was so late. Presently a boy with bare legs and a kilt entered the church and whispered to a very old man, who turned out to be an elder. Having heard the boy's message, the elder crossed over to the pew in which the laird was seated and whispered to him, not so low, however, as to prevent Giles Jackman from hearing all that pa.s.sed. The minister's horse had fallen, he said, and bruised the minister's legs so that he could not officiate.

"Very awkward," returned the laird, knitting his brows. "What's to be done? It seems absurd that so many of us should a.s.semble here just to look solemn for a few minutes and then go home."

"Yes, sir, it iss akward," said the elder. "Could you not gif us a discoorse yoursel', sir, from the prezenter's dask?"

The latter part of the proposition was to guard himself from the imputation of having asked the laird to mount the _pulpit_.

"Me preach!" exclaimed the laird; "I never did such a thing in my life."

"Maype you'll read a chapter, what-e-ver," persisted the elder.