"Up helm, and lay yourself alongside of us. We must see who you are."
The fishermen obeyed. They had reason to know that, just then, there was
no other course to pursue. In a few minutes the two boats were riding
side by side, lifting and falling lazily on the long Atlantic swell. The
lady looked up at the uniformed personage, who seemed an officer.
"My name is Flora McDonald," she said. "These persons are my servants.
My father is in command of the McDonalds on South Uist. I have been
visiting at Clanranald, and am now on my way home."
"Forgive me, Miss McDonald," said the officer, courteously; "but our
orders are precise; no one can leave the island without a pass."
"I know it," she replied, with dignity, "and have provided myself. Here
is my passport, signed by my father."
The officer took and ran his eye over it quickly: "Flora McDonald; with
two servants, Betty Bruce and Malcolm Rae," he read. His gaze moved
rapidly over the occupants of the boat, resting for a moment on the
bright and intelligent face of the young lady.
"This seems all right, Miss McDonald," he said, respectfully, returning
her the paper. "You can pass. Good-by, and a pleasant journey."
"Many thanks," she answered.
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