“I’m thinking,” said Alan, “these’ll be what they call the Torran Rocks.”

“Are there many of them?” says the captain.

“Truly, sir, I am nae pilot,” said Alan; “but it sticks in my mind there are ten miles of them.”

Mr. Riach and the captain looked at each other.

“There’s a way through them, I suppose?” said the captain.

“Doubtless,” said Alan, “but where?  But it somehow runs in my mind once more that it is clearer under the land.”

“So?” said Hoseason.  “We’ll have to haul our wind then, Mr. Riach; we’ll have to come as near in about the end of Mull as we can take her, sir; and even then we’ll have the land to kep the wind off us, and that stoneyard on our lee.  Well, we’re in for it now, and may as well crack on.”

With that he gave an order to the steersman, and sent Riach to the foretop.  There were only five men on deck, counting the officers; these being all that were fit (or, at least, both fit and willing) for their work.  So, as I say, it fell to Mr. Riach to go aloft, and he sat there looking out and hailing the deck with news of all he saw.

“The sea to the south is thick,” he cried; and then, after a while, “it does seem clearer in by the land.”

“Well, sir,” said Hoseason to Alan, “we’ll try your way of it.  But I think I might as well trust to a blind fiddler.  Pray God you’re right.”

“Pray God I am!” says Alan to me.  “But where did I hear it?  Well, well, it will be as it must.”

As we got nearer to the turn of the land the reefs began to be sown here and there on our very path; and Mr. Riach sometimes cried down to us to change the course.  Sometimes, indeed, none too soon; for one reef was so close on the brig’s weather board that when a sea burst upon it the lighter sprays fell upon her deck and wetted us like rain.

The brightness of the night showed us these perils as clearly as by day, which was, perhaps, the more alarming.  It showed me, too, the face of the captain as he stood by the steersman, now on one foot, now on the other, and sometimes blowing in his hands, but still listening and looking and as steady as steel.  Neither he nor Mr. Riach had shown well in the fighting; but I saw they were brave in their own trade, and admired them all the more because I found Alan very white.

“Ochone, David,” says he, “this is no the kind of death I fancy!”

“What, Alan!” I cried, “you’re not afraid?”

“No,” said he, wetting his lips, “but you’ll allow, yourself, it’s a cold ending.”

By this time, now and then sheering to one side or the other to avoid a reef, but still hugging the wind and the land, we had got round Iona and begun to come alongside Mull.  The tide at the tail of the land ran very strong, and threw the brig about.  Two hands were put to the helm, and Hoseason himself would sometimes lend a help; and it was strange to see three strong men throw their weight upon the tiller, and it (like a living thing) struggle against and drive them back.  This would have been the greater danger had not the sea been for some while free of obstacles.  Mr. Riach, besides, announced from the top that he saw clear water ahead.