The rest of us, at all events, have no time for such vague dreams and reveries. There is no idleness on board the _White Dove_ out here on the shining deep. Dr. Sutherland has rigged up for himself a sort of gymnasium by putting a rope across the shrouds to the peak halyards; and on this rather elastic cross-bar he is taking his morning exercise by going through a series of performances, no doubt picked up in Germany. Miss Avon is busy with a sketch of the long headland running out to Vaternish Point; though, indeed, this smooth Atlantic roll makes it difficult for her to keep her feet, and introduces a certain amount of haphazard into her handiwork. The Laird has brought on deck a formidable portfolio of papers, no doubt relating to the public affairs of Strathgovan; and has put on his gold spectacles; and has got his pencil in hand. Master Fred is re-arranging the cabins; the mistress of the yacht is looking after her flowers. And then is heard the voice of John of Skye—"_Stand by, boys!_" and "_Bout ship!_" and the helm goes down, and the jib and foresail flutter and tear at the blocks and sheets, and then the sails gently fill, and the _White Dove_ is away on another tack. "Well, I give in," says Mary Avon, at last, as a heavier lurch than usual threatens to throw her and her easel together into the scuppers. "It _is_ no use." "I thought you never gave in, Mary," says our Admiral, whose head has appeared again at the top of the companion-stairs. "I wonder who could paint like this," says Miss Avon, indignantly. And indeed she is trussed up like a fowl, with one arm round one of the gig davits. "Turner was lashed to the mast of a vessel in order to see a storm," says Queen T. "But not to paint," retorts the other. "Besides, I am not Turner. Besides, I am tired." By this time, of course, Angus Sutherland has come to her help; and removes her easel and what not for her; and fetches her a deck-chair. "Would you like to play chess?" says he. "Oh, yes," she answers dutifully, "if you think the pieces will stay on the board." "Draughts will be safer," says he, and therewith he plunges below, and fetches up the squared board.