The stormy and unsettled look of the sunset had prepared us for something of a dirty night, and as we went on both wind and sea increased considerably. The south-westerly breeze that had brought us so far at a spanking rate began to veer round to the north, and came in violent squalls, while the long swell running down between Raasay and Scalpa and the mainland caused the _White Dove_ to labour heavily. Moreover, the night got as black as pitch, the moon had not arisen, and it was lucky, in this laborious beating up against the northerly squalls, that we had the distant Rona light by which to judge of our whereabouts. The two women were huddled together in the companion-way; it was the safest place for them; we could just make out the two dark figures in the ruddy glow coming up from the saloon. "Isn’t it splendid to be going like this," said Miss Avon, "after lying at anchor so long?" Her friend did not answer. She had been chiefly instrumental in persuading Captain John to keep on during the night, and she did not quite like the look of things. For one thing, she had perceived that the men were all now clad from head to foot in oilskins, though as yet there was nothing but spray coming on board. Our young Doctor came aft, and tried to get down the companion-way without disturbing the two women. "I am going below for my waterproof and leggings," said he, with a slight laugh. "There will be some fun before this night is over." The tone of the girl altered in a moment. "Oh, Angus," said she, grasping him by the arm. "Pray don’t do that! Leave the men to work the boat. If there is any danger, why don’t they make away for the land somewhere?" "There is no danger," said he, "but there will be a little water by and by." The volume of the great waves was certainly increasing, and a beautiful sight it was to mark the red port-light shining on the rushing masses of foam as they swept by the side of the vessel. Our whereabouts by this time had become wholly a matter of conjecture with the amateurs, for the night was quite black; however, Rona light still did us good service. When Angus Sutherland came on deck again, she was on the port tack, and the wind had moderated somewhat. But this proved to be a lull of evil omen. There was a low roar heard in the distance, and almost directly a violent squall from the east struck the yacht, sending the boom flying over before the skipper could get hold of the mainsheet. Away flew the _White Dove_ like an arrow, with the unseen masses of water smashing over her bows! "In with the mizen, boys!" called out John of Skye, and there was a hurried clatter and stamping, and flapping of canvas. But that was not enough, for this unexpected squall from the east showed permanence, and as we were making in for the Sound of Scalpa we were now running free before the wind. "We’ll tek the foresail off her, boys!" shouted John of Skye again, and presently there was another rattle down on the deck.