PLEASANT PLACES 19 



still the fog continued. All day we had seen nothing 

 but one fishing-boat which anchored a few fathoms from 

 us. Hour after hour this unlucky craft, and one or 

 two floating bottles, swung round us with the tide, 

 always keeping the same distance from the yacht. As 

 the long hours passed all hope of reaching home that 

 day vanished, and the skipper became anxious. It 

 was all very well to remain where we were in a flat 

 calm and a slack tide during daylight, but we might 

 be, and probably were, close to the cliffs of Mull ; there 

 was no holding ground, and if it should come on to 

 blow in the night we might quite easily be wrecked. 

 We determined therefore to proceed dead slow, 

 blowing the whistle at intervals of two or three 

 minutes, and listening for the echo from the cliffs, 

 which shortly afterwards gave back the sound on the 

 port-side. Working the lead, and consulting the chart, 

 we forged cautiously ahead, keeping just within sight 

 of the low cliff, and at last distinguished moving figures 

 on the sky-line, and, shouting inquiries, obtained the 

 information that, as we expected from the soundings 

 and coastal indications, we were close to Loch Spelve, 

 a loch with a bottle-necked entrance near the south 

 point of Mull opposite to the Firth of Lome. Our 

 chart disclosed that there was capital anchorage and 

 shelter within, but it was rather risky to enter in a 

 fog without a pilot or someone with local knowledge. 

 However, it was a choice of evils, and we cautiously felt 

 our way in, and were soon comfortably at anchor. The 

 mist never showed any signs of clearing, so we turned 

 in, after giving orders to the skipper to weigh anchor 

 as soon after dawn as possible, if the fog had then 

 lifted. 



