In the midst of the seas, where white caps were hissing, the Mate shouted that he saw a salmon flash down from a high leap. But he was wrong. It was our gannet. We had always seen one and it had always brought us luck. Fishing those seas must be such an exhilarating business that it caused momentary wonder and a smile. The day was brightening; the wind freshening—but not much. With luck, we should make Oban yet, for once round Ardalanish Point, hardly an hour away, we should have wind and sea astern.

But meantime we were still heading for Soay Island and had to decide to put her about. To come beam on to the seas was not an experience to look forward to. I could see the Mate watching them and waiting his moment. I left him to it, and I must say he took us round with the minimum of discomfort. A nice piece of work, and full of relief for me, as I had not yet got quite out of the habit of feeling that I must do everything myself. If I remember correctly, I think that someone in Kidnapped says the Torran Rocks reach for about ten miles, and for a vessel coming in from the west side of Iona, the foul stretch is long enough. But the Torranan Rocks proper are thus described in the Sailing Directions: ‘This is a cluster of rocks about miles by miles in extent. One of them, Ruadh Sgeir, the most eastern of the group, is marked by a wht. beacon. Many of the others are only a few feet below water, and there is usually a swell setting in which breaks badly over them. The inside passage is usually taken . . . and there are three rocks to be guarded against. With the large-scale chart this passage should present no great difhculty. . . .’

Unfortunately we had no large-scale chart, and as we had held to Soay too long (for the greater comfort when we put about), we now began to hunt for the first rock, called Bogha hun a Chuoil, which should be about right in our course. It has six feet over it at low water and though that was double our draught, yet in this sea (it was low water now) the swing of the waves should expose it. And actually we found no difficulty in picking up its great round lather of foam. Several of the rocks mentioned in our Directions were not named on our small-scale chart, but our instinct for the lie of things helped us here. With the assistance of the Crew, I was able, in the spitting rain, to glimpse the chart and the Directions, and with an ear on the engine and an eye ahead, I shouted to the steersman that he was doing grand.

‘She’ll take anything—capital seaboat,’ he cried back, obviously delighted with her. ‘Wait till we get some dirty weather, and you’ll see!’