THREE DAYS AND THREE NIGHTS ON BOARD A STEAMER. Ill 



in the morning we thought the Cambre light ought to have been 

 visible. However, it was not to be seen : there was a dark dull uncertain 

 atmosphere hung around the quarter of the vessel, which told pretty 

 surely that we were in the firth, yet not so surely as to make it certain ; 

 and as the proving of it with the wind blowing so fresh from the south 

 might bring instant destruction, it was judged advisable not to attempt 

 the bay, but again to put about the helm, set the bow of the vessel to 

 the wind, and beat down the channel a second time, in order to wait for 

 daylight, as it appeared the only hope that we had of the vessel being 

 able to hold out. 



The wind still continued from the same point, and the little steamer 

 gallantly held on her way. We descended to the cabin, but all was 

 gloomy silence and darkness : physical fatigue had overcome mental fear, 

 and the passengers were all, if not sleeping, at least quietly dozing in 

 their beds ; we lighted another cigar, buttoning our coat close to the 

 neck and wrapping our cloak more firmly about our body, and again 

 hied ourselves upon deck. The night was now so dark, that we could 

 not see two feet in advance, and the vessel was steered alone by the 

 compass in the binnacle, the light of which threw a death-like glare on 

 the face of the man at the wheel. The funnel was vomiting forth flame 

 like a volcano, but even this was insufficient to illuminate the vessel it- 

 self, as the spars, rigging, and paddle-boxes were perfectly invisible, 

 and no point to be seen from the quarter-deck, but the red mouth of the 

 glowing funnel. 



No light or living thing was seen by our forlorn ship in that awful 

 night. She went scudding along, as if she had been a thing not of this 

 earth, and we joyed in the freedom that she then possessed from all 

 harm, from all help, from all responsibility, and from all human ken. 

 Atlast thePeak of Ailsa again appeared — the storm blew as hard as ever — 

 what was to be done ? — she durst not venture beyond it — the helm -vas 

 again put up, and the vessel put round, and we for the second time at- 

 tempted to enter Lambash Bay, but to have done more than attempt it 

 would have been certain destruction ; so for Cambraes we again made 

 sail, but with no better effect ; we could see no light — we saw a dark 

 indistinct horizon, and we had a guess from the compass, and the dis- 

 tance we had run, where we were. So as it could not want more than an 

 hour of sunrise, it was judged better to make in the direction of Rothsay 

 Bay. We accordingly rounded the point of little Cambraes, and were 

 just passing the point of Lomond as the sun began to appear through the 

 spray, and about nine in the morning we cast anchor in the bay. A boat 

 was soon alongside, and with the exception of the poor lieutenant, we all 

 embarked in her for the shore — the poor fellow wished to keep himself 

 select, and therefore remained on board in single blessedness — we, on 

 the contrary, got into Mr. Porbindal's Inn, and there had a jolly good 

 breakfast, not one of us eating less than nine whitings and six eggs, 

 not to mention cups of coffee and bread. Breakfast being finished, we 

 got upon the top of the chapel hill, and really the day looked most beau- 

 tiful, and we saw with regret the signal made of hauling up the anchor ; 

 we accordingly repaired on board, but did not sail for nearly two hours, 

 during which time we amused ourselves by playing at pitch and toss on 

 the quarter deck, in which all joined but th« poor lieutenant, who de- 



