“Beautiful day!”—­he said,—­“Very happy sky!”

This expression ‘happy sky’ attracted me.  It recalled to my mind a phrase I had once read in the translation of an inscription found in an Egyptian sarcophagus—­“The peace of the morning befriend thee, and the light of the sunset and the happiness of the sky.”  The words rang in my ears with an odd familiarity, like the verse of some poem loved and learned by heart in childhood.

In a very few minutes we were alongside the ‘Dream’ and soon on board, where Rafel Santoris received us with kindly courtesy and warmth of welcome.  He expressed polite regret at the absence of Miss Harland—­none for that of Dr. Brayle or Mr. Swinton—­and then introduced us to his captain, an Italian named Marino Fazio, of whom Santoris said to us, smilingly:—­

“He is a scientist as well as a skipper—­and he needs to be both in the management of such a vessel as this.  He will take Captain Derrick in his charge and explain to him the mystery of our brilliant appearance at night, and also the secret of our sailing without wind.”

Fazio saluted, and smiled a cheerful response.

“Are you ready to start now?” he asked, speaking very good English with just the slightest trace of a foreign accent.

“Perfectly!”

Fazio lifted his hand with a sign to the man at the wheel.  Another moment and the yacht began to move.  Without the slightest noise,—­ without the grinding of ropes, or rattling of chains, or creaking boards, she swung gracefully round, and began to glide through the water with a swiftness that was almost incredible.  The sails filled, though the air was intensely warm and stirless—­an air in which any ordinary schooner would have been hopelessly becalmed,—­and almost before we knew it we were out of Loch Scavaig and flying as though borne on the wings of some great white bird, all along the wild and picturesque coast of Skye towards Loch Bracadale.  One of the most remarkable features about the yacht was the extraordinary lightness with which she skimmed the waves—­she seemed to ride on their surface rather than part them with her keel.  Everything on board expressed the finest taste as well as the most perfect convenience, and I saw Mr. Plarland gazing about him in utter amazement at the elegant sumptuousness of his surroundings.  Santoris showed us all over the vessel, talking to us with the ease of quite an old friend.

“You know the familiar axiom,”—­he said—­“’Anything worth doing at all is worth doing well.’  The ‘Dream’ was first of all nothing but a dream in my brain till I set to work with Fazio and made it a reality.  Owing to our discovery of the way in which to compel the waters to serve us as our motive power, we have no blackening smoke or steam, so that our furniture and fittings are preserved from dinginess and tarnish.  It was possible to have the saloon delicately painted, as you see,”—­here he opened the door of the apartment mentioned, and we stepped into it as into a fairy palace.  It was much loftier than the usual yacht saloon, and on all sides the windows were oval shaped, set in between the most exquisitely painted panels of sea pieces, evidently the work of some great artist.  Overhead the ceiling was draped with pale turquoise blue silk forming a canopy, which was gathered in rich folds on all four sides, having in its centre a crystal lamp in the shape of a star.