Lady Carse had just lost the chance of escape, as all believed; and all
were now quarrelling as to whose fault it was. Mrs Ruthven was turning
back from the shore, breathless from haste and vexation, as Lady Carse
and Helsa came down. The boat, with several armed men in it, had pushed
off when Mrs Ruthven appeared. They made no reply to her signs, but
lay on their oars at a little distance from the beach till Lady Carse
and her maid came down. After some delay, and many signals of entreaty
from the ladies, the boat again approached, and the man in command of it
was told that a lady of quality, wrongfully imprisoned in this island,
desired to be carried to the main, and that, once among her friends in
Edinburgh, she could give rewards for her escape to any amount. There
was a short consultation in the boat, a laugh, and a decisive pull to
shore. A sailor jumped out and seized the lady to carry her in.
Whether it was the unaccountable shout of triumph that she set up, or
something else that startled the sailor, he hastily set down his burden
on the rock, looked her in the face, and then spoke to his comrades in
the boat. They laughed again, but beckoned him on. He placed her in
the boat, but she stumbled, swayed over, caught at the side of the boat
as she went over, and very nearly upset it. The men swore at her,
declared her to be no lady in distress, but a tipsy gipsy, laid her down
on the shore, and rowed away. Mr Ruthven now declared that he could do
nothing in such a case. Lady Carse, now sobered from everything but
passion, protested that if he had had any sense or presence of mind, he
might have detained the strangers till she could produce from her
package proof of her rank and quality. If the wranglers could but have
known who these strangers were, and whence came the distant vessel to
which their boat belonged, all would have joined in thanksgiving for the
lady's escape from their hands.
Annie had no more suspicion of the truth than they. She could only
attempt to calm them, and make the best of matters by showing that
possibly all might not be over yet. It was now nearly dark. If she
could light two lamps for this once, it might bring back the boat. If
the people on board were familiar with her light and its purpose, the
singular circumstance of its being double might attract their curiosity;
if strangers, they might attend to the signal from prudence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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