"I hope we shall have nothing much worse than this," said Mr. White, seriously. For, indeed, the sea, after the squally morning, was running pretty high; and occasionally a cloud of spray came rattling over the bows, causing Macleod's guests to pull their waterproofs still more tightly round their necks. But what mattered the creaking of the cordage, and the plunging of the boat, and the rushing of the seas, so long as that beautiful clear sky shone overhead? "Gertrude," said he, in a low voice, "do you see the phosphorous-stars on the waves? I never saw them burn more brightly." "They are very beautiful," said she. "When do we get to land, Keith?" "Oh, pretty soon," said he. "You are not anxious to get to land?" "It is stormier than I expected." "Oh, this is nothing," said he. "I thought you would enjoy it." However, that summer night's sail was like to prove a tougher business than Keith Macleod had bargained for. They had been out scarcely twenty minutes when Miss White heard the man at the bow call out something, which she could not understand, to Macleod. She saw him crane his neck forward, as if looking ahead; and she herself, looking in that direction, could perceive that from the horizon almost to the zenith the stars had become invisible. "It may be a little bit squally," he said to her, "but we shall soon be under the lee of Iona. Perhaps you had better hold on to something." The advice was not ill-timed; for almost as he spoke the first gust of the squall struck the boat, and there was a sound as if everything had been torn asunder and sent overboard. Then, as she righted just in time to meet the crash of the next wave, it seemed as though the world had grown perfectly black around them. The terrified woman seated there could no longer make out Macleod's figure; it was impossible to speak amidst this roar; it almost seemed to her that she was alone with those howling winds and heaving waves--at night on the open sea. The wind rose, and the sea too; she heard the men call out and Macleod answer; and all the time the boat was creaking and groaning as she was flung high on the mighty waves only to go staggering down into the awful troughs behind. "Oh, Keith!" she cried--and involuntarily she seized his arm--"are we in danger?" He could not hear what she said; but he understood the mute appeal. Quickly disengaging his arm--for it was the arm that was working the tiller--he called to her,-- "We are all right. If you are afraid, get to the bottom of the boat." But unhappily she did not hear this; for, as he called her, a heavy sea struck the bows, sprung high in the air, and then fell over them in a deluge which nearly choked her. She understood, though, his throwing away her hand. It was the triumph of brute selfishness in the moment of danger. They were drowning, and he would not let her come near him! And so she shrieked aloud for her father.