Cruise: A right royal voyage off the Scottish coast

Queen Elizabeth and the Duke Of Edinburgh disembark the Hebridean Princess at Stornoway, Photo / Mark Cuthbert, Getty Images

Her Ladyship is sitting on the sofa next to the inglenook fireplace, flames licking the door of the wood-burning stove. On the oak-beamed mantelpiece is a scrimshawed elephant tusk, dated 1830. I wonder if one of Her Ladyship's ancestors shot the poor beast? I want to ask but she is talking about her thoroughbreds while staff proffer canapes and refill champagne flutes. Suddenly conversation is interrupted by the sight of a dolphin. This is odd. Her Ladyship lives miles from the coast.

Then I realise the bubbles have gone to my head. I'm not at the estate of the Lady in question; she's a fellow passenger on the Hebridean Princess, a small ship that cruises among Scotland's islands. The wood-burning stove, it turns out, is — for obvious reasons — electric. Egon, the steward, smart in tartan trousers, motions to top up my glass once more. I resist. "Are you driving?" he asks with a grin, as the ship rides the waves.

The Queen has (twice) chartered this floating country house that is the only remaining British-registered — and flagged — cruise ship. Media tycoons and Formula One stars have also succumbed to its comfortable charms, hosting extravagant board meetings and celebrations with up to 50 friends and family, looked after by 38 crew.

The 236ft ship began its cruising life in the 80s as a ferry, with four car spaces for passengers.

This exclusive bring-your-own-car option is no more. Once ashore, passengers depart more conventionally in chartered coaches, but there are bicycles on board should you wish to explore independently. My ears had pricked when, in the evening briefing, our guide Pat Cannings mentioned that on Islay there was the option of a nine-mile bike ride to a fine Celtic cross. That the coastal ride included a car-free cycle route enticingly named the Three Distilleries Way was a bonus.

Cycling nearly 20 miles (and downing a wee dram) gave me some quiet time away from the herd and worked up an appetite. Lunch was a seafood feast of salmon, oysters, lobsters and herring, all sourced in Scotland, as is most food on board, including Angus beef and venison. There are 65 single malts and bar staff will guide you in your choice. Being all-inclusive (with a strict "no-tipping"policy), a week on board is a test of willpower, waistline and liver. Dinners are fairly formal with some black-tie affairs.

Hebridean Princess is a class act thankfully devoid of New World bling. There are no acres of marble, chrome and mirrors, no pillow menus or personal butlers. Shiny brass, polished teak, plump cushions, heavy drapes and supremely comfortable beds are the order of the day.

We were sailing from Oban to the Outer Hebrides, via the Inner Hebridean islands of Islay and Jura. On Jura there are pebble beaches stranded 100ft up on cliffs above the sea due to a geological phenomenon known as isostatic rebound. There are very few houses. Already, these islands felt remote and wild.

After docking at the island of Lewis and visiting the Neolithic stone circle of Callanish, our cruise (theme: archaeology, guest lecturer: Nicholas Crane) was disrupted by the weather. Sixty-mile-per-hour winds were on their way and we raced from them — at top speed of 12 knots — to seek a port of refuge; the itinerary shot to pieces. But there's nothing that can be done when nature has the upper hand. Local ferry services were being cancelled and we were forced to skip several ports of call — Eriskay, South and North Uist, Skye and Eigg. "We don't want you spilling your champagne," joked the captain, "but, seriously, safety and comfort of guests is all-important."

The ship has stabilisers but they only work to some degree. There are no lifts on board so negotiating the walk from cabin to public areas inevitably involves stairs — on which an ankle-twisting accident or worse is more likely in stormy conditions.

No one seemed too bothered about the change in itinerary — many were repeat customers.

Interestingly, no one I met had chosen the cruise for its theme. Rather, they chose it because the timing suited or the itinerary included islands they hadn't yet visited, but most of all because they love the ship, staff and crew. Now there was a valid excuse to come back another time.

By fleeing the wind, we escaped rough seas. No one was seasick, let alone tumbling down stairs. We docked in Oban for the last two nights, more floating hotel than cruise ship, and a talented kilted musician, Gary Innes, came aboard. On his accordion, he played haunting melodies interspersed with ceilidh tunes. In black tie and party frocks, we danced, linked arms and sang Auld Lang Syne. It was like the finale to a splendid country house party. Thank you, Ma'am.

The next morning we exchanged contact details, hugged and departed: mostly by chartered coach to Glasgow airport or train stations. I travelled onwards to London, overnight on the Caledonian Sleeper. Its old and tired carriages are, thankfully, about to be replaced. Come this autumn, smart new rolling stock, with en suite rooms and double beds, will make the train the most comfortable mode of public transport to and from Scotland. After all, during a week on board the Hebridean Princess, one becomes accustomed to travelling in style.

The Sunday Telegraph