"Andrew, Andrew," cried
the young woman, in a voice quavering with emotion, "turn, turn, I tell
you: O the ships, the Haunted Ships!" But the appearance of a fine run
of fish had more influence with the peasant than the voice of bonnie
Barbara, and forward he dashed, net in hand. In a moment he was borne
off his feet, and mingled like foam with the water, and hurried toward
the fatal eddies which whirled and roared round the sunken ships. But he
was a powerful young man, and an expert swimmer: he seized on one of the
projecting ribs of the nearest hulk, and clinging to it with the grasp
of despair, uttered yell after yell, sustaining himself against the
prodigious rush of the current.
From a shealing of turf and straw, within the pitch of a bar from the
spot where we stood, came out an old woman bent with age, and leaning
on a crutch. "I heard the voice of that lad Andrew Lammie; can the
chield be drowning, that he skirls sae uncannilie?" said the old woman,
seating herself on the ground, and looking earnestly at the water.
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