OF TH 



in. CALM ^O^J> STO < I(M 



WE left our moorings in Loch Laxford as the gale died 

 fitfully away. We made our slow way southward down 

 the rock-bound coast until the bold headland of Khu 

 Stoer stood clear cut on the horizon, and the bird- 

 haunted cliffs of Handa lay, like a faint grey shadow, 

 far astern. The hours dragged slowly by. Now the 

 light breeze, ruffling the water with its fitful breath, 

 filled for a space the swelling sails ; and now the droop- 

 ing ensign clung idly round the mast. Slowly with 

 the ebbing tide we drifted along, down miles of barren 

 coast line low grey cliffs and heath-clad slopes, broken 

 by rifts and gorges, with now and then the silver of 

 some headlong fall ; past the mouths of inlets with 

 fringes of pale sand, clusters of brown huts like the 

 kraals of Kaffir villages, and, far in, the outlines of 

 wild hills. 



And now the twilight glow was fading from the crags 



