With no other sails
spread to the action of the air than her heavy mainsail, and one of
those light jibs that projected far beyond her bows, the vessel glided
over the water with a grace and facility that seemed magical to the
beholders, who turned their wondering looks from the schooner to each
other in silent amazement. At length the drover spoke in a low solemn
voice:
"He's a bold chield that steers her! and if that bit craft has wood in
her bottom, like the brigantines that ply between Lon'on and the Frith
at Leith, he's in mair danger than a prudent mon could wish. Ay! he's by
the big rock that shows his head when the tide runs low, but it's no
mortal man who can steer long in the road he's journeying and not
speedily find land wi' water a-top o't."
The little schooner, however, still held her way among the rocks and
sand-pits, making such slight deviations in her course as proved her to
be under the direction of one who knew his danger, until she entered as
far into the bay as prudence could at all justify, when her canvas was
gathered into folds, seemingly without the agency of hands, and the
vessel, after rolling for a few minutes on the long billows that hove in
from the ocean, swung round in the currents of the tide, and was held by
her anchor.
The peasants now began to make their conjectures more freely concerning
the character and object of their visitor; some intimating that she was
engaged in contraband trade, and others that her views were hostile, and
her business war.
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