som of the deep. What devil's dance is this?
Surely it cannot be Ulva--Ulva the green-shored--Ulva that the sailors,
in their love of her, call softly _Ool-a-va_--that is laughing aloud
with wild laughter on this awful night? And Colonsay, and Lunga, and
Fladda--they were beautiful and quiet in the still summer-time; but now
they have gone mad, and they are flinging back the plunging sea in white
masses of foam, and they are shrieking in their fierce joy of the
strife. And Staffa--Staffa is far away and alone; she is trembling to
her core: how long will the shuddering caves withstand the mighty hammer
of the Atlantic surge? And then again the sudden wild gleam startles the
night, and one sees, with an appalling vividness, the driven white waves
and the black island; and then again a thousand echoes go booming along
the iron-bound coast. What can be heard in the roar of the hurricane,
and the hissing of rain, and the thundering whirl of the waves on the
rocks? Surely not the glad last cry: SWEETHEART! YOUR HEALTH! YOUR
HEALTH IN THE COAL-BLACK WINE?

* * * * *

The poor fugitives crouching in among the rocks: is it the blinding rain
or the driven white surf that is in their eyes? But they have sailors'
eyes; they can see through the awful storm; and their gaze is fixed on
one small green point far out there in the blackness--the starboard
light of the doomed ship. It wavers like a will-o'-the-wisp, but it does
not recede; the old _Umpire_ still clings bravely to her chain-cables.

And amidst all the din of the storm they hear the voice of Hamish lifted
aloud in lamentation:--"Oh, the brave lad! the brave lad! And who is to
save the young master now? and who will carry this tale back to Castle
Dare? They will say to me: 'Hamish, you had charge of the young lad: you
put the first gun in his hand: you had charge of him: he had the love of
a son for you: what is it you have done with him this night?' He is my
Absalom; he is my brave young lad: oh, do you think that I will let him
drown and do nothing to try to save him? Do you think that? Duncan
Cameron, are you a man? Will you get into the gig with me and pull out
to the _Umpire?_"

"By God," said Duncan Cameron, solemnly, "I will do that! I have no
wife; I do not care. I will go into the gig with you, Hamish; but we
will never reach the yacht--this night or any night that is to come."

Then the old woman Christina shrieked aloud, and caug