By this time the three weeks were passed, and they sailed round the
south of Mull and anchored in the offing between Staffa and Iona. So
anchored, they waited for Kenric's squadron. But the days went by; the
month of August passed into September, and Kenric did not appear. A
watch was kept both night and day, yet the six ships that were so
anxiously expected came not to the appointed place.
CHAPTER XIX. STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD.
One morning very early Allan Redmain was on watch. He had had his fill
of fighting, and not few were the wounds he had received of both arrow
and spear. Wrapped in his warm plaid, he paced the deck. The seagulls
flew about the masthead and dipped into the blue water. The mountains of
Mull were shrouded in white mist. Suddenly Allan paused his walk and
looked northward towards the little isle of Staffa. On the sea line he
saw what at first he took to be the Treshnish Islands; but soon these
faint shadows loomed more distinct through the morning mist and took the
shape of ships' sails. Six ships he counted.
"Kenric is safe!" he sighed.
Then ordering one of his small boats to be lowered, he went to tell the
good news to Sir Piers on his galley hard by. But as together they
looked across the sea they counted yet another ship.
"You mistake, Allan," said Sir Piers. "These are not Kenric's ships at
all, but the galleys of my lord of Ross, who has, as you know, been upon
an expedition similar to our own -- to Skye and Lewis.
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