At about half past eleven o’clock, they gained the banks of the river Forth. There a boat, chartered by James Starr, awaited them. In a few hours it would convey them all to Granton. Nell looked at the clear water which flowed up to her feet, as the waves broke gently on the beach, reflecting the starlight. “Is this a lake?” said she.
“No,” replied Harry, “it is a great river flowing towards the sea, and soon opening so widely as to resemble a gulf. Taste a little of the water in the hollow of your hand, Nell, and you will perceive that it is not sweet like the waters of Lake Malcolm.”
The maiden bent towards the stream, and, raising a little water to her lips, “This is quite salt,” said she.
“Yes, the tide is full; the sea water flows up the river as far as this,” answered Harry.
“Oh, Harry! Harry!” exclaimed the maiden, “what can that red glow on the horizon be? Is it a forest on fire?”
“No, it is the rising moon, Nell.”
“To be sure, that’s the moon,” cried Jack Ryan, “a fine big silver plate, which the spirits of air hand round and round the sky to collect the stars in, like money.”
“Why, Jack,” said the engineer, laughing, “I had no idea you could strike out such bold comparisons!”
“Well, but, Mr. Starr, it is a just comparison. Don’t you see the stars disappear as the moon passes on? so I suppose they drop into it.”
“What you mean to say, Jack, is that the superior brilliancy of the moon eclipses that of stars of the sixth magnitude, therefore they vanish as she approaches.”
“How beautiful all this is!” repeated Nell again and again, with her whole soul in her eyes. “But I thought the moon was round?”
“So she is, when ‘full,'” said James Starr; “that means when she is just opposite to the sun. But to-night the moon is in the last quarter, shorn of her just proportions, and friend Jack’s grand silver plate looks more like a barber’s basin.”
“Oh, Mr. Starr, what a base comparison!” he exclaimed, “I was just going to begin a sonnet to the moon, but your barber’s basin has destroyed all chance of an inspiration.”
Gradually the moon ascended the heavens. Before her light the lingering clouds fled away, while stars still sparkled in the west, beyond the influence of her radiance. Nell gazed in silence on the glorious spectacle. The soft silvery light was pleasant to her eyes, and her little trembling hand expressed to Harry, who clasped it, how deeply she was affected by the scene.
“Let us embark now,” said James Starr. “We have to get to the top of Arthur’s Seat before sunrise.”
The boat was moored to a post on the bank. A boatman awaited them. Nell and her friends took their seats; the sail was spread; it quickly filled before the northwesterly breeze, and they sped on their way.
What a new sensation was this for the maiden! She had been rowed on the waters of Lake Malcolm; but the oar, handled ever so lightly by Harry, always betrayed effort on the part of the oarsman. Now, for the first time, Nell felt herself borne along with a gliding movement, like that of a balloon through the air. The water was smooth as a lake, and Nell reclined in the stern of the boat, enjoying its gentle rocking. Occasionally the effect of the moonlight on the waters was as though the boat sailed across a glittering silver field. Little wavelets rippled along the banks. It was enchanting.
At length Nell was overcome with drowsiness, her eyelids drooped, her head sank on Harry’s shoulder–she slept. Harry, sorry that she should miss any of the beauties of this magnificent night, would have aroused her.
“Let her sleep!” said the engineer. “She will better enjoy the novelties of the day after a couple of hours’ rest.”
At two o’clock in the morning the boat reached Granton pier. Nell awoke. “Have I been asleep?” inquired she.
“No, my child,” said James Starr. “You have been dreaming that you slept, that’s all.”
The night continued clear. The moon, riding in mid-heaven, diffused her rays on all sides. In the little port of Granton lay two or three fishing boats; they rocked gently on the waters of the Firth. The wind fell as the dawn approached. The atmosphere, clear of mists, promised one of those fine autumn days so delicious on the sea coast.