Three Boys; Or, The Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  THE EFFECTS OF THE SAIL.

  "Look sharp! Father doesn't like to be kept waiting. Don't stop to doanything but change your wet things. That's your room. You can lookright away and see Mull one side and Skye the other."

  Kenneth half pushed his visitor into a bed-room, banged the door, andwent off at a run, leaving Max Blande standing helpless and troubledjust inside, and heartily wishing he was at home in Russell Square.

  Not that the place was uncomfortable, for it was well furnished, but hewas tired and faint for want of food; everything was strange; the windand sea were playing a mournful duet outside--an air in a natural keywhich seemed at that moment more depressing than a midnight band ororgan in Bloomsbury on a foggy night.

  But he had no time for thinking. Expecting every moment to hear thegong sound again, and in nervous dread of keeping his host waiting, hehurriedly changed, and was a long way on towards ready when there was abang at the door.

  "May I come in?" shouted Kenneth. But he did not say it till he hadopened the door and was well inside.

  "Oh, your hair will do," he continued. "You should have had it cutshort. It's better for bathing. Old Donald cuts mine. He shall doyours. No, no; don't stop to put your things straight. Why, hallo!what are you doing?"

  "Only taking a little scent for my handkerchief."

  "Oh my! Why, you're not a girl! Come along. Father's so particularabout my being in at dinner. He don't mind any other time."

  Kenneth hurried his visitor down-stairs, and, as they reached the hall,a sharp voice said,--

  "Mr Blande, I suppose! How do you do? Well, Kenneth, did you have agood run? Nice day for a sail."

  Max had not had time to speak, as the tall, aquiline-looking man, withkeen eyes and closely-cut blackish-grey hair, turned and walked onbefore them into the dining-room. The lad felt a kind of chill, as ifhe had been repelled, and was not wanted; and there was a sharp, haughtytone in his host's voice which the sensitive visitor interpreted to meandislike.

  As he followed into the room, he had just time to note that, in spite ofhis coldness, his host was a fine, handsome, _distingue_ man, and thathe looked uncommonly well in the grey kilt and dark velvetshooting-jacket, which seemed to make him as picturesque in aspect asone of the old portraits on the walls.

  Max had also time to note that a very severe-looking man-servant inblack held open and closed the door after them, following him up, and,as he took the place pointed out by Kenneth, nearly knocking him off hisbalance by giving his chair a vicious thrust, with the result that hesat down far too quickly.

  "Amen!" said the host sharply, and in a frowning, absent way.

  "I haven't said grace, father," exclaimed Kenneth.

  "Eh! haven't you? Ah, well, I thought you had. What's the soup,Grant?"

  "Hotch-potch, sir," replied the butler.

  "Confound hotch-potch! Tell that woman not to send up any more till Iorder it."

  He threw himself back in the chair as the butler handed the declinedplate second-hand to the guest and then took another to Kenneth.

  "'Taint bad when you're hungry," whispered the lad across the table.

  Max glanced at his host with a shiver of dread, but The Mackhai was inthe act of pouring himself out a glass of sherry, which he tossed off,and then in an abstracted way put on his glasses and began to read aletter.

  "It's all right. He didn't hear," whispered Kenneth, setting a goodexample, and finishing his soup before Max had half done, for there wasa novelty in the dinner which kept taking his attention from his food.

  "Sherry to Mr Blande," said the host sharply; and the butler came backfrom the sideboard, where he was busy, giving Max an ill-used look,which said plainly,--

  "Why can't he help himself?"

  Then aloud,--

  "Sherry, sir?"

  "No, thank you."

  The decanter stopper went back into the bottle with a loud click, thedecanter was thumped down, and the butler walked back past Kenneth'schair.

  "Hallo, Granty! waxey?" said Kenneth; but the butler did not condescendto answer.

  "Much sport, father?"

  "Eh? Yes, my boy. Two good stags."

  "I say, father, I wish I had been there."

  "Eh? Yes, I wish you had, Ken. But you had your guest to welcome. Ihope you had a pleasant run up from Glasgow."

  "Pretty good," faltered Max, who became scarlet as he saw Kenneth'slaughing look.

  "That's right," said the host. "You must show Mr Blande all you can,Ken," he continued, softening a little over the salmon. "Sorry we haveno lobster sauce, Mr Blande. This is not a lobster shore. MakeKenneth take you about well."

  "I did show him the Grey Mare's Tail, father," said Kenneth, with amerry look across the table.

  "Ah yes! a very beautiful fall."

  The dinner went on, but, though he was faint, Max did not make a heartymeal, for, in addition to everything seeming so strange, and the mannersof his host certainly constrained, from time to time it seemed to thevisitor that all of a sudden the table, with its white cloth, glitteringglass and plate, began to rise up, taking him with it, and repeating themovements of the steamer where they caught the Atlantic swell. Then itsubsided, and, as a peculiar giddy feeling passed off, the table seemedto move again; this time with a quick jerk, similar to that given byKenneth's boat.

  Max set his teeth; a cold perspiration broke out upon his forehead, andhe held his knife and fork as if they were the handles to which he mustcling to save himself from falling.

  He was suspended between two horrors, two ideas troubling him. Wouldhis host see his state, and should he be obliged to leave the table?

  And all the while the conversation went on between father and son, andhe had to reply to questions put to him. Then, as the table rose andheaved, and the room began to swing gently round, a fierce-looking eyeseemed to be glancing at him out of a mist, and he knew that the butlerwas watching him in an angry, scornful manner that made him shrink.

  He had some recollection afterwards of the dinner ending, and of theirgoing into a handsome drawing-room, where The Mackhai left them, asKenneth said, to go and smoke in his own room. Then Max rememberedsomething about a game of chess, and then of starting up and oversettingthe table, with the pieces rattling on the floor.

  "What--what--what's the matter?" he exclaimed as he clapped his hand tohis leg, which was tingling with pain.

  "What's the matter? why, you were asleep again. Never did see such asleepy fellow. Here, let's go to bed."

  "I beg your pardon; I'm very sorry, but I was travelling all lastnight."

  "Oh, I don't mind," said Kenneth, yawning. "Come along."

  "We must say good-night to your father."

  "Oh no! he won't like to be disturbed. He's in some trouble. I thinkit's about money he has been losing, and it makes him cross."

  Kenneth led the way up-stairs, chattering away the while, and making allmanner of plans for the morning.

  "Here you are," he cried. "You'd like a bath in the morning?"

  "Oh yes, I always have one."

  "All right. I'll call you."

  As soon as he was alone, Max went to the window and opened it, to admitthe odour of the salt weed and the thud and rush of the water as it beatagainst the foot of the castle and whispered amongst the crags. Themoon was just setting, and shedding a lurid yellow light across the sea,which heaved and gleamed, and threw up strange reflections from theblack masses of rock which stood up all round.

  A curious shrinking sensation came over him as he gazed out; for downbelow the weed-hung rocks seemed to be in motion, and strange monstersappeared to be sporting in the darkness as the weed swayed here andthere with the water's wash.

  He closed the window, after a long look round, and hurriedly undressed,hoping that after a good night's rest the sensation of unreality wouldpass off, and that he would feel more himself, but he had no sooner putout the candle and plunged into bed tha
n it seemed as if he were oncemore at sea. For the bed rose slowly and began to glide gently down aninclined plane toward one corner of the room, sweeping out through thewall, and then rising and giving quite a plunge once more.

  It all seemed so real that Max started up in bed, and grasped the head,and stared round.

  It was all fancy. The bed was quite still, and the only movement wasthat of the waves outside as they beat upon the rocks.

  He lay down once more, and, as his head touched the pillow, and heclosed his eyes, the bed heaved up once more, set sail, and he keptgliding on and on and on.

  This lasted for about an hour, and then, as the boat-like bed made oneof its slow, steady glides, down as it were into the depths of the sea,it went down and down, lower and lower, till all was black and solemnand still, and it was as if there was a restful end of all trouble, tillthe stern struck with a tremendous thud upon a rock, and a hollow voiceexclaimed,--

  "Now, old chap! Six o'clock! Ready for your bath?"