# The Green Ray/Chapter V
## CHAPTER V. CHANGE OF STEAMERS.

After partaking of an excellent luncheon, served in the saloon of the Columbia, Miss Campbell and her uncles again went on deck.
Helena could not repress an exclamation of disappointment when she once more resumed her post of observation.
“My horizon has gone!” said she.
It must be confessed her horizon was no longer visible; it had disappeared for some minutes, and the steamer, heading northwards, was at this moment entering the long straits of the Kyles of Bute.
“This is too bad, Uncle Sam,” said Miss Campbell, with a little reproachful grimace.
“But, my dear child—”
“I shall not forget it, Uncle Sib!”
The brothers knew not what to say; however, it was certainly not their fault if the Columbia, after changing her course, was then making towards the north-west.
In fact, there are two different ways of going by sea from Glasgow to Oban.
The one—that which the Columbia had not taken—is the longest. After calling at Kothsay, the chief town of the island of Bute, overlooked by its ancient castle and sheltered on its western side from gales by a high ridge of hills, the steamer can continue to descend the Frith of Clyde, then coast along the eastern shore of the island, pass in sight of the greater and lesser Cumbrae, and make for the southern point of Arran, which belongs almost entirely to the Duke of Hamilton, from the base of its rocks to the summit of the Goatfell, 2866 feet above the level of the sea.
The man at the helm turns the wheel, the compass is set due west, the island of Arran is doubled, the steamer turns the peninsula of Kintyre, and, ascending the western coast, enters the Gigha Pass, then through the Sound, between the islands of Islay and Jura, she arrives at the wide entrance of the Frith of Lorn, which narrows, until it is quite closed, a little above Oban.
Her uncles, as well as Miss Campbell, had cause to regret this change of route, for in coasting along the shores of Islay. they would have seen the ancient home of the MacDonalds, who, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, were conquered and driven out by the Campbells; the scene of this historical fact, which touched them so closely, would have set their hearts beating in unison.
This route would just have suited Miss Campbell, for from Arran to the Mull of Kintyre the sea has a southern aspect; then from the Mull of Kintyre to the farther point of Islay it is a western sea, that is to say, that immense plain of water bounded only by the coast of America.
But this route is long, sometimes troublesome, if not dangerous, and among the passengers might be some who would be alarmed at the thought of venturing on a passage often rendered dangerous by gales off the shores of the Hebrides.
Thus engineers—among others Lesseps—thought of converting the peninsula of Kintyre into an island, and, thanks to their endeavours, the Crinan Canal has been cut through its northern end; the journey is thus shortened by a considerable distance, and the passage takes but three or four hours.
This was the route which the Columbia was taking in her passage from Glasgow to Oban, between lochs and straits with no other view than that of sea-shore, mountains, and forests. Of all the passengers, Miss Campbell, undoubtedly, was the only one who really regretted the other route; but she was obliged to resign herself; besides, would not the sea-horizon be visible again when they were out of the Crinan Canal a few hours later, and even before sunset?
Just as the tourists, who had lingered in the saloon, again came on deck, the Columbia was at the entrance of Loch Riddan, off the little island of Elbangrieg, the last fortress where the heroic Duke of Argyll took refuge before he was crushed in his struggle for the political and religious freedom of Scotland. Then the steamer veered south, descended the straits of Bute, through a lovely panorama of wooded or barren isles, outlined against a background of light mist. At last, after having doubled Cape Ardlamont, she resumed her northerly course, across Loch Fyne, leaving to the left the village of East Tarbert, on the coast of Kintyre, rounded the Capeof Ardrishaig, and reached the village of Lochgilphead at the entrance of the Crinan Canal.
At this place the Columbia was obliged to be left, as she was too large for the navigation of the canal, through which only boats of light draught can pass,
A small steamer, called the Linnet, was waiting for the passengers of the Columbia, and the transhipment was effected in a few minutes. All took their places comfortably on the upper-deck of the steamer; then the Linnet sped rapidly between the banks of the canal, whilst a bagpiper in national costume gave the company the benefit of his monotonous and melancholy music.
It is a charming passage through this canal, sometimes running between high banks, sometimes skirting heather-clad hills; here passing through the open country, there hemmed in between the straight walls of the reaches. There is some little delay in the locks. Whilst the canal men are opening the gates for the boats to pass through, young girls come and politely offer the passengers new milk, speaking with that Gaelic idiom very often incomprehensible to Englishmen.
Six hours later—there had been a delay of two hours at a lock which was in bad working order—the hamlets and farms of this somewhat dreary district, and the extensive marshes of the Add, which stretch along the right side of the canal, had been passed. The Linnet stopped a few minutes later at Ballenach, and a second change of steamers took place.
The passengers of the Columbia now become passengers of the Glengary, leaving the Bay of Crinan, doubled the point on which rose the ancient feudal castle of Duntroon.
Since they had rounded the Isle of Bute, the sea-horizon had not been again visible.
Miss Campbell's impatience can be easily imagined. Upon these waters, bounded in every direction by land, she might as well have been in the middle of Scotland, in the lake district, and in the country of Rob Roy, for on all sides were picturesque isles, with their verdant banks, and plantations of firs and larches.
At last the Glengary passed the northern point of Jura, and the sea-line was visible between this point and the Isle of Scarba.
“There it is, my dear Helena,” said her Uncle Sam, pointing towards the west.
“It was not our fault,” added Sib, “if these tiresome islands, confound them! hid it from you for a time.”
“You are quite forgiven, uncles,” replied Miss Campbell; “but don't let it happen again.”