Three Boys | Page 9

neared the
point, about which the swift tide foamed and leaped furiously, the
waves causing a deep, low roar to rise as they fretted among the
tumbled chaos of rocks.
"I hope not. Eh, Scood?"

"Hope not! Why?"
"Because the sea would knock the boat to pieces. That's all."
"Hah!"
Max drew his breath with a low hiss, and gazed sharply from Kenneth
to the foaming water they were approaching so swiftly, and now, with
the little knowledge he had gained, the lowering mass of rock began to
look terribly forbidding, and the birds which flew shrieking away
seemed to be uttering cries of warning.
"Hadn't you better pull the left rein--I mean steer away, if it's so
dangerous?"
"No; I'm going in between those two rocks, close in. Plenty of water
now, isn't there, Scood?"
"Not plenty; enough to clear the rock," was the reply.
"Sit fast, and you'll see what a rush through we shall go. Hold tight."
Max set his teeth, and his eyes showed a complete circle of white about
the iris as the boat careened over, and, feeling now the current which
raced foaming around the point, he had a strange catching of the
breath, while his hands clung spasmodically to the thwart and side.
The huge mass of frowning rock seemed to be coming to meet them; the
grey-winged birds flew hither and thither; the water, that had been
dark blue flecked with white, suddenly became one wild race of foam,
such as he had seen behind the paddle-boxes of the steamers during his
run up from Glasgow. There was the perpendicular wall on his right,
and a cluster of black crags on his left, and toward these the boat was
rushing at what seemed to him a terrific rate. It was like running wildly
to their death; but Kenneth was seated calmly holding the tiller, and
Scood half lay back, letting one hand hang over and splash amongst
the foam.

Hiss, roar, rush, and a spray of spattering drops of the beaten waves
splashed over them as they raced on, passing through the opening at a
rate which made Max Blande feel dizzy. Then, just as the boat careened
over till the bellying sail almost touched the low crags on their left, it
made quite a leap, rose upright, the pressure on the sail ceased, the
rush of wind seemed to be suddenly cut off, and they were gliding
rapidly along in an almost waveless bay, with a deep, loud, thunderous
roar booming into their ears.
"What do you think of that?" cried Kenneth, laughing in his guest's
astonished face.
"I--I don't know. Is anything broken?"
"Broken? No. We're under the shelter of the great point."
"Oh, I see. But what's that noise? Thunder?"
"Thunder? No. That's the Grey Mare wagging her tail."
"Poof!"
Scood exploded again.
"You are laughing at me," said Max quietly. "I can't help being so
ignorant."
"Never mind, we'll show you. I say, Scood, there's wind enough to carry
us by if we go close in."
"No, there isn't; keep out."
"Shan't. Get out the oars and help!"
"Best keep out," grumbled Scood.
"You get out the oars--do you hear?"
Scood frowned, and slowly laid out the oars, as he took his place on the

forward thwart, after a glance at the sail, which barely filled now.
"She aren't safe to go near," he said sulkily.
"Does she kick?" said Max eagerly.
Kenneth burst into a fresh roar of laughter.
"Oh yes, sometimes," he said, "right into the boat."
Scood sat with the oars balanced, and a grim smile upon his
countenance, while Max looked sharply from one to the other, and,
seeing that there was something he did not grasp, he sat watchful and
silent, while the boat, in the full current which swept round the bay,
glided rapidly out toward the farther point, from behind which the
thunderous roar seemed to come.
In another minute they were close to the point, round which the tide
flowed still and deep, and directly after Max held his breath, as the
boat glided on, with the sail flapping, towards where in one wild leap a
torrent of white water came clear out from a hundred feet above, to
plunge sullenly into the sea.
"That's the Grey Mare's Tail," cried Kenneth, raising his voice so as to
be heard above the heavy roar; and the fall bore no slight resemblance
to the long white sweeping appendage of some gigantic beast, reaching
from the face of the precipice to the sea.
Max felt awe-stricken, for, saving on canvas, he had never seen
anything of the kind before. It was grand, beautiful, and thrilling to see
the white water coming foaming down, and seeming to make the sea
boil; but the perspiration came out on