"Nay," said Howard, "'tis the waves roaring in a cavern, and mingling with the boom cf breakers on the beach; and now we should see Phillorth Church and sands; and lo! there they are to leeward--let her fall off a few points--so--yare--John, yare, and bravely!" Rattray Point, that low and dangerous promontory, with its burgh town, not a vestige of which now remains, were left astern, and soon Kinnaird, that tremendous headland on the Buchan coast reared its weatherbeaten brow above the foam, where the wave that rose upon the far Norwayn shore breaks upon its iron front; and now, as Howard said, Phillorth opened its friendly bay, overlooked by an ancient castle belonging to the Frazers, and its kirk of St. Modan, the confessor of King Couran. The _Harry_ fired a gun as a signal to her consorts, and right before the wind they stood in between the foam-drenched promontories of Cairnbulg and Frazerburgh, and came to anchor in the bay or roads, where, as the high bluffs protected them from the fury of the sea, they rode in safety. "Thank God and St. George our anchor is down, and seems to hold bravely too!" said Howard, as the ship swung round and everything was furled, fore and aft. "But how fareth this dainty Scottish dame to-day?" asked John o'Lynne. Howard coloured deeply, and pretending not to have heard, looked fixedly at the bluff of Cairnbulg. "Dost thou affect her, shipmate o' mine?" Still no answer. "Ahoy, my captain! thou'st seen her to-day, I warrant." "Who?" asked Howard, fretfully. "The lady--our prisoner, who hath never set her pretty foot on our wetted deck since that misty night we were off Tay mouth." "How could she do so, when the wind hath blown a tempest since, and we have shipped an ocean and more of this bitter Scottish sea? She is low in heart, and sunk in health and spirit--poor little damsel--my heart bleeds for her!" "And yearns for her too--is it not so, Edmund Howard?" "It yearns in vain, then," said Howard, with a sigh; "for she is impregnable." "Faith she must be if _thou_ has failed in getting the weather-gage of her; thou hast been kind to her as father, brother, and lover, all in one," continued the talkative lieutenant; "and I doubt not, she will make such a report of thee to old King Harry as may win thee a pair of golden spurs." "A stout fellow who wears a sword and faces salt water--a Howard least of all--should not owe his spurs to a petticoat, John o'Lynne," said his captain, coldly; "but I would to Heaven she had never set foot on board the _Harry_; and I hope its heaviest malison will fall on yonder villanous Scots who are plotting this poor girl's ruin, and who brought her to us--on Borthwick more than all! That night his face was white as our flag; but one day I hope to see it turn blue as a Scot's one!"