"The moors over near Cloomber are just white
wi' gulls and kittiewakes. What d'ye think they come ashore for except
to escape having all the feathers blown out o' them? I mind a day like
this when I was wi' Charlie Napier off Cronstadt. It well-nigh blew us
under the guns of the forts, for all our engines and propellers."
"Have you ever known a wreck in these parts?" I asked.
"Lord love ye, sir, it's a famous place for wrecks. Why, in that very
bay down there two o' King Philip's first-rates foundered wi' all hands
in the days o' the Spanish war. If that sheet o' water and the Bay o'
Luce round the corner could tell their ain tale they'd have a gey lot to
speak of. When the Jedgment Day comes round that water will be just
bubbling wi' the number o' folks that will be coming up frae the
bottom."
"I trust that there will be no wrecks while we are here," said Esther
earnestly.
The old man shook his grizzled head and looked distrustfully at the hazy
horizon.
"If it blows from the west," he said, "some o' these sailing ships may
find it no joke to be caught without sea-room in the North Channel.
There's that barque out yonder--I daresay her maister would be glad
enough to find himsel' safe in the Clyde."
"She seems to be absolutely motionless," I remarked, looking at the
vessel in question, whose black hull and gleaming sails rose and
fell slowly with the throbbing of the giant pulse beneath her.
"Perhaps, Jamieson, we are wrong, and there will be no storm after all.
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