d, this theory grew ever the longer the less welcome to my
reason. The compass, the map, the interest awakened by the buckle, and
the conduct of that one among the strangers who had looked so often
below him in the water, all seemed to point to a different explanation
of their presence on that outlying, obscure islet of the western sea.
The Madrid historian, the search instituted by Dr. Robertson, the
bearded stranger with the rings, my own fruitless search that very
morning in the deep water of Sandag Bay, ran together, piece by piece,
in my memory, and I made sure that these strangers must be Spaniards in
quest of ancient treasure and the lost ship of the Armada. But the
people living in outlying islands, such as Aros, are answerable for
their own security; there is none near by to protect or even to help
them; and the presence in such a spot of a crew of foreign
adventurers--poor, greedy, and most likely lawless--filled me with
apprehensions for my uncle's money, and even for the safety of his
daughter. I was still wondering how we were to get rid of them when I
came, all breathless, to the top of Aros. The whole world was shadowed
over; only in the extreme east, on a hill of the mainland, one last
gleam of sunshine lingered like a jewel; rain had begun to fall, not
heavily, but in great drops; the sea was rising with each moment, and
already a band of white encircled Aros and the nearer coasts of
Grisapol. The boat was still pulling seaward, but I now became aware of
what had been hidden from me lower down--a large, heavily sparred,
handsome schooner lying-to at the south end of Aros. Since I had not
seen her in the morning when I had looked around so closely at the signs
of the weather, and upon these lone waters where a sail was rarely
visible, it was clear she must have lain last night behind the
uninhabited Eilean Gour, and this proved conclusively that she was
manned by strangers to our coast, for that anchorage, though good enough
to look at, is little better than a trap for ships. With such ignorant
sailors upon so wild a coast, the coming gale was not unlikely to bring
death upon its wings.

CHAPTER IV

THE GALE

I found my uncle at the gable-end, watching the signs of the weather,
with a pipe in his fingers.

"Uncle," said I, "there were men ashore at Sandag Bay----"

I had no time to go further; indeed, I not only forgot my words, but
even my weariness, so strange was the effect on Uncle Gord