94 RAMBLES OF A VOfMINIS 



the grey sky, their white wings wide against the rolling 

 clouds. 



Towards evening other boats put in for shelter, until 

 the loch was crowded with craft. 



By nightfall the wind was blowing a whole gale. The 

 air was full of driving rain. Sudden squalls struck the 

 yacht with a distinct and solid shock that threatened to 

 tear away her very masts. There were ominous signs, too, 

 that the anchor was beginning to drag ; when we went 

 below at midnight the riding light of a yacht that lay 

 astern seemed as we caught glimpses of it through the 

 rain and spray, to be distinctly nearer than it was an 

 hour ago. 



Sleep in such a tumult and under such condition was 

 not to be thought of. Three hours later, completely 

 roused by shouts and clatter overhead, and a sudden 

 crash against the stern, we hurried on deck. 



The lights that glimmered through the blinding rain 

 revealed clearly enough the cause of the disturbance. 

 The schooner that last night lay a hundred yards behind 

 us was grinding slowly along our starboard quarter. 

 Her bowsprit had knocked away the crutch of our main 

 boom, and now was threatening the stern of the gig. 

 The davits were hastily swung in, and we got the boat 

 on deck, guarding as best we could the sides of the yacht 

 with fenders and boathooks. 



High above us towered the schooner's masts, swaying 

 wildly over our deck. One of her crew was clinging to 

 the shrouds, bare headed, dressed just as he scrambled 

 from his berth, careless of the rain. As a great roller 



