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1874.] "We have come round the Mull, and we can go anywhere," Johnny said. "I'd back the Phœbe to take you safely to the West Indies: wouldn't you, Mosenberg?"

"Oh no," the boy said. "I would back her to take you, not to take me."

Two or three days thereafter the Phœbe was brought up the sound from Port Ellen, and such things as were meant as a present to Lavender were landed. Then the three friends embarked, for the weather had cleared considerably, and there was indeed, when they set out, a pale, wintry sunshine gleaming on the sea and on the white deck and spars of the handsome little cutter which Johnny commanded. The Phœbe was certainly a great improvement on the crank craft in which he used to adventure his life on Loch Fyne: she was big enough, indeed, to give plenty of work to everybody on board of her, and when once she had got into harbor and things put to rights, her chief state-room proved a jolly and comfortable little place enough. They had some pleasant evenings in this way after the work of the day was over, when the swinging lamps shone down on the table that was furnished with glasses, bottles, cigars and cards. Johnny was very proud of being in command and of his exploit in doubling the Mull. He was continually consulting charts and compasses, and going on deck to communicate his last opinion to his skipper. Mosenberg, too, was getting better accustomed to the hardships of yachting, and learning how to secure a fair amount of comfort. Lavender never said that he wished to go near Lewis, but there was a sort of tacit understanding that their voyage should tend in that direction.

They had a little rough weather on reaching Skye, and in consequence remained in harbor a couple of days. At the end of that time a happy opportunity presented itself of cutting across the Little Minch—the Great Minch was considered a trifle risky—to Loch Maddy in North Uist. They were now in the Western Islands, and strange indeed was the appearance which the bleak region presented at this time of the year—the lonely coasts, the multitudes of wild fowl, the half-savage, wondering inhabitants, the treeless wastes and desolate rocks. What these remote and melancholy islands might have looked like in fog and misty rain could only be imagined, however, for, fortunately, the longed-for north-easter had set in, and there were wan glimmerings of sunshine across the sea and the solitary shores. They remained in Loch Maddy but a single day, and then, still favored by a brisk north-east breeze, made their way through the Sound of Harris and got to leeward of the conjoint island of Harris and Lewis. There, indeed, were the great mountains which Lavender had seen many a time from the north, and now they were close at hand, and dark and forbidding. The days were brief at this time, and they were glad to put into Loch Resort, which Lavender had once seen in company with old Mackenzie when they had come into the neighborhood on a salmon-fishing excursion.

The Phœbe was at her anchorage, the clatter on deck over, and Johnny came below to see what sort of repast could be got for the evening. It was not a very grand meal, but he said, "I propose that we have a bottle of champagne to celebrate our arrival at the island of Lewis. Did you ever see anything more successfully done? And now, if this wind continues, we can creep up to-morrow to Loch Roag, Lavender, if you would like to have a look at it."

For a moment the color forsook Lavender's face. "No, thank you, Johnny," he was about to say, when his friend interrupted him: "Look here, Lavender: I know you would like to see the place, and you can do it easily without being seen. No one knows me. When we anchor in the bay, I suppose Mr. Mackenzie—as is the hospitable and praise-worthy custom in these parts—will send a message to the yacht and ask us to dine with him. I, at any rate, can go up and call on him, and make excuses for you; and then I could tell you, you know—" Johnny hesitated.

"Would you do that for me, Johnny?" Lavender said. "Well, you are a good fellow!"