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Updated: June 19, 2025
So I plunged straight into the tale of my first landing on Ransay and my adventure with the oilskinned man on the shore, and may I always have as attentive an audience when I tell a story. "So there is actually a German who dares to live on Ransay!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a little. "A man whom I certainly took to be a German a man who talks German fluently."
"They are all in the house still," she whispered. "I think we are in time!" She led us, walking in single file and on our toes, into the midst of the huddle of low houses until we came to one open, pitch-dark door. And then she flashed a little torch and we followed her into a building which I remembered distinctly. One end was the barn where I slept that memorable first night in Ransay.
"Would it worry you if I were to yarn a little about that adventure of yours in Ransay?" he asked. "Worry me! I've been thinking of little else since I came to this restful place. In fact I've been finishing off a full, true, and particular account of the adventure. Any further news?" His mouth grew compressed and a frown settled over his eyes.
I wondered very much. "When did they wire for you?" I asked. "Somewhere round about mid-day." "And what did they say?" "'They'?" repeated my cousin. "Why drag in the fair Miss Rendall? Her father did the wiring. At least I presume so." "Assuming he did, what did he say?" "Suspicious stranger come to Ransay gave incorrect account of himself that was the gist of it.
"But how long will that be? And you are taking no precautions at all!" "But I am! I assure you I am. I have a code wire arranged with my cousin and when he gets the message 'Request permission to be visited by my own doctor, he will be in Ransay as fast as he can steam." She gave a little laugh, but looked anxious still. "What a delicious message! Well, that's better than nothing.
As it chanced it was my one glimpse of the old life of town and clubland and everything that goes with evening dress, seen just for that brief evening between months of mine-dodging and blizzard-facing in the North Sea followed by a hospital bed, and the lonely tempestuous isle of Ransay.
Rendall was no expert in antiquarian matters, and yet had sufficient respect for those who were to give them every encouragement and make all allowances for any irregularity in their hours caused thereby. Mr. Mr. Hobhouse moreover talked in his garrulous way of adding his own modest contribution to this literature in the shape of a monograph on the antiquities of Ransay.
What had brought her under the lee of Ransay I could but guess; some engine trouble and that gale on top of it most probably, but there she was, and there were the islanders standing at each door gazing at her. I gazed too for a while and then came back to our early dinner. Going out again in the afternoon, the affable Mr.
"They are Ransay girls, and one foreign accent is the same as another to them," she laughed. "Then it must have been finding the parachute. I always thought that gave me away." "But it wasn't found till Monday morning, after we had been for that walk." "It might have been found by these people sooner." "It might," she admitted without much conviction.
We parted, I think, with equal relief on either side. Under a heavy sky and a chilly wind we steamed through divers waterways, touched at divers islands, and shipped and unshipped many cattle. At last, when it had turned afternoon and the wind was beginning to feel wet as well as chilly, Thomas Sylvester stepped ashore on the modest pier at Ransay.
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