Onwards and onwards we flew, in absolute darkness but for that red light that made the sea shine like a foaming sea of blood. And the pressure of the wind behind increased until it seemed likely to tear the canvas off her spars. "Down with the jib, then!" called out John of Skye; and we heard, but could not see, the men at work forward. And still the _White Dove_ flew onwards through the night, and the wind howled and whistled through the rigging, and the boiling surges of foam swept away from her side. There was no more of Rona light to guide us now; we were tearing through the Sound of Scalpa; and still this hurricane seemed to increase in fury. As a last resource, John of Skye had the peak lowered. We had now nothing left but a mainsail about the size of a pocket-handkerchief. As the night wore on, we got into more sheltered waters, being under the lee of Scalpa; and we crept away down between that island and Skye, seeking for a safe anchorage. It was a business that needed a sharp look-out, for the waters are shallow here, and we discovered one or two smacks at anchor, with no lights up. They did not expect any vessel to run in from the open on a night like this. And at last we chose our place for the night, letting go both anchors. Then we went below, into the saloon. "And how do you like sailing in the equinoctials, Mary?" said our hostess. "I am glad we are all round this table again, and alive," said the girl. "I thought you said the other day you did not care whether the yacht went down or not?" "Of the two," remarked Miss Avon shyly, "it is perhaps better that she should be afloat." Angus was passing at the moment. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder, and said, in a kind way— "It is better not to tempt the unknown, Mary. Remember what the French proverb says, ’quand on est mort, c’est pour longtemps.’ And you know you have not nearly completed that great series of _White Dove_ sketches for the smoking-room at Denny-mains." "The smoking-room!" exclaimed the Laird, indignantly. "There is not one of her sketches that will not have a place—an honoured place—in my dining-room: depend on that. Ye will see—both of ye—what I will do with them; and the sooner ye come to see the better." We this evening resolved that if, by favour of the winds and the valour of John of Skye, we got up to Portree next day, we should at once telegraph to the island of Lewis (where we proposed to cease these summer wanderings) to inquire about the safety of certain friends of ours whom we meant to visit there, and who are much given to yachting; for the equinoctials must have blown heavily into Loch Roag, and the little harbour at Borva is somewhat exposed. However, it was not likely that they would allow themselves to be caught. They know something about the sea, and about boats, at Borva. *CHAPTER XVI.* *AFTER THE GALE.*