the fishing was in the sound of
Kilbrannan, where several scores of boats, and amongst those that of the
M'Phersons, were busily employed in reaping the ocean harvest. When the
take of herrings appears in this sound, Campbelton Loch, a well-known
harbour on the west coast of Scotland, is usually made the
headquarters--a place of rendezvous of the little herring fleet--and to
this loch they always repair when threatened with a boisterous night,
although it was not always that they could, in such circumstances,
succeed in making it.

Such a night as the one alluded to, was that that succeeded the evening
on which M'Pherson saw the strange lights that form the leading feature
of our tale. Violent gusts of wind came in rapid succession down the
sound of Kilbrannan; and a skifting rain, flung fitfully but fiercely
from the huge black clouds as they hurried along before the tempest that
already raged above, swept over the face of the angry sea, and seemed to
impart an additional bitterness to the rising wrath of the incipient
storm. It was evident, in short, that what sailors call a "dirty night"
was approaching; and, under this impression, the herring boats left
their station, and were seen, in the dusk of the evening in question,
hurrying towards Campbelton Loch. But the storm had arisen in all its
fury long before the desired haven could be gained. The little fleet was
dispersed. Some succeeded, however, in making the harbour; others,
finding this impossible, ran in for the Saddle and Carradale shores, and
were fortunate enough to effect a landing. All, in short, with the
exception of one single boat, ultimately contrived to gain a place of
shelter of some kind. This unhappy exception was _The Catherine_. Long
after all the others had disappeared from the face of the raging sea,
she was seen struggling alone with the warring elements, her canvas down
to within a few feet of her gunwale, and her keel only at times being
visible. The gallant brothers who manned her, however, had not yet lost
either heart or hope, although their situation at this moment was but
too well calculated to deprive them of both. Gravely and steadily, and
in profound silence, they kept each by his perilous post, and
endeavoured to make the land on the Campbelton side; but, finding this
impossible, they put about, and ran before the wind for the island of
Arran, which lay at the distance of about eight miles. But alarmed, as
they approached that rugg