d QUIST HAVS^ 87 



shrieking of the wind in the rigging, and hear the dull 

 roar of the surf as it broke on distant reefs. And when 

 the morning dawned cold and wet and stormy, a whole 

 fleet of fishing boats, beaten back from the Lewis, put in 

 for shelter to our quiet haven. As they passed us one 

 by one we saw how their great lug-sails were drenched 

 with spray; and the stalwart sea-kings, whose faces 

 were as dark as the flapping canvas they were furling, 

 glistened in their streaming oilskins. As the day went 

 on, and still harder blew the gale, as still louder rose that 

 hungry roar among the islands, there was small hope for 

 them of making Stornoway. The weather was alto- 

 gether too wild for fishing now, and on so rough a sea 

 there was little pleasure in toiling at the oar. 



But it was a jovial company that gathered round the 

 table in the cabin. Many days like these must there 

 be, unrecorded perhaps in his log-book, in the experience 

 of every yachtsman when every book has been read ; 

 when time-worn jokes are hailed with shouts of laughter; 

 when the poorest puns pass current, and the very oldest 

 stories are greeted with applause ; days when the only 

 occupations are eating, sleeping, and the rubber ; the 

 only exercise to tramp the sloppy deck in blinding rain ; 

 the only excitement to speculate on what there will be 

 for dinner. Our food was running short too. The 

 Stornoway boats had missed their catch of herrings. 

 Bread had given place to biscuit. We contemplated 

 with horror a still further descent to Stromness jam 

 and the oatcakes of the country. " If this wind holds," 

 observed the skipper gloomily, " we'll just have to die." 



