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diff --git a/old/21394-h.htm.2018-02-19 b/old/21394-h.htm.2018-02-19 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee1bc11 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/21394-h.htm.2018-02-19 @@ -0,0 +1,11159 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Priscilla's Spies, by George A. Birmingham + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Priscilla's Spies, by George A. Birmingham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Priscilla's Spies + 1912 + +Author: George A. Birmingham + +Release Date: January 23, 2008 [EBook #21394] +Last Updated: October 4, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISCILLA'S SPIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PRISCILLA’S SPIES + </h1> + <h2> + By George A. Birmingham + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + Copyright, 1912, By George H. Doran Company + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="map-frontispiece (129K)" src="images/map-frontispiece.jpg" + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="titlepage (41K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + To M. E. M., M. S. R., D. P., and L. K. + + The vision of whose tents + I have panned about the bay. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + PRISCILLA’S SPIES + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The summer term ended in a blaze of glory for Frank Mannix. It was a + generally accepted opinion in the school that his brilliant catch in the + long field—a catch which disposed of the Uppingham captain—had + been the decisive factor in winning the most important of matches. And the + victory was particularly gratifying, for Haileybury had been defeated for + five years previously. There was no doubt at all that the sixty not out + made by Mannix in the first innings rendered victory possible in the “cock + house” match, and that his performance as a bowler, first change, in the + second innings, secured the coveted trophy, a silver cup, for Edmonstone + House. These feats were duly recorded by Mr. Dupré, the house master, in a + neat speech which he made at a feast given in the classroom to celebrate + the glory of the house. When the plates of the eleven were finally cleared + of cherry tart and tumblers were refilled with the most innocuous claret + cup, Mr. Dupré rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + He chronicled the virtues and successes of the hero of the hour. The catch + in the Uppingham match was touched on—a dangerous bat that Uppingham + captain. The sixty not out in the house match had been rewarded with a + presentation bat bearing a silver shield on the back of it. No boy in the + house, so Mr. Dupré said, grudged the sixpence which had been stopped from + his pocket money to pay for the bat. Then, passing to graver matters, Mr. + Dupré spoke warmly of the tone of the house, that indefinable quality + which in the eyes of a faithful schoolmaster is more precious than rubies. + It was Mannix, prefect and member of the lower sixth, who more than any + one else deserved credit for the fact that Edmonstone stood second to no + house in the school in the matter of tone. The listening eleven, and the + other prefects who, though not members of the victorious eleven, had been + invited to the feast, cheered vigorously. They understood what tone meant + though Mr. Dupré did not define it. They knew that it was mainly owing to + the determined attitude of Mannix that young Latimer, who collected + beetles and kept tame white mice, had been induced to wash himself + properly and to use a clothes brush on the legs of his trousers. Latimer’s + appearance in the old days before Mannix took him in hand had lowered the + tone of the house. Mannix’ own appearance—though Mr. Dupré did not + mention this—added the weight of example to his precepts. His taste + in ties was acknowledged. No member of the school eleven knotted a crimson + sash round his waist with more admired precision. Nor was the success of + the hero confined to the playing fields and the dormitory. Mr. Dupré noted + the fact that Mannix had added other laurels to the crown of the house’s + glory by winning the head master’s prize for Greek iambics. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dupré sat down. Mannix himself, blushing but pleasurably conscious + that his honours were deserved, rose to his feet. As President of the + Literary Society and a debater of formidable quality, he was well able to + make a speech. He chose instead to sing a song. It was one, so he informed + his audience, which Mr. Dupré had composed specially for the occasion. The + tune indeed was old. Every one would recognise it at once and join in the + chorus. The words, and he, Frank Mannix, hoped they would dwell in the + memory of those who sang them, were Mr. Dupré’s own. The eleven, the + prefects and Mr. Dupré himself joined with uproarious tunefulness in a + chorus which went tolerably trippingly to the air of “Here’s to the Maiden + of Bashful Fifteen.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here’s to the House, Edmonstone House. + Floreat semper Edmonstone House.” + </pre> + <p> + Mannix trolled the words out in a clear tenor voice. One after another of + the eleven, even Fenton, the slow bowler who had no ear for music, picked + them up. The noise flowed through the doors and windows of the classroom. + It reached the distant dormitory and stimulated small boys in pyjamas to + thrills of envious excitement It was Mannix again, Mannix at his greatest + and best, who half an hour later stood up in his place. With an air of + authority which became him well, he raised his hand and stilled the + babbling voices of the enthusiastic eleven. Then, pitching on a note which + brought the tune well within the compass of even Fenton’s growling bass, + he began the school songs, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Adsis musa canentibus + Laeta voce canentibus + Longos clara per annos + Haileyburia floreat.” + </pre> + <p> + House feeling, local patriotism to the tune of “The Maiden of Bashful + Fifteen,” was well enough. Behind it, deep in the swelling heart of + Mannix, lay a wider thing, a kind of imperialism, a devotion to the school + itself. Far across the dim quadrangle rang the words “Haileyburia + Floreat.” It was Mannix’s greatest moment. + </p> + <p> + Three days later the school broke up. Excited farewells were said by boys + eagerly pressing into the brakes which bore them to the Hertford station. + Mannix, one of the earliest to depart, went off from the midst of a group + of admirers. It was understood by his friends that he was to spend the + summer fishing in the west of Ireland—salmon fishing. There would be + grouse shooting too. Mannix had mentioned casually a salmon rod and a new + gun. Happy Mannix! + </p> + <p> + The west of Ireland is a remote region, wild no doubt, half barbarous + perhaps. Even Mr. Dupré, who knew almost all things knowable, admitted, as + he shook hands with his favorite pupil, that he knew the west of Ireland + only by repute. But Mannix might be relied on to sustain in those far + regions the honour of the school. Small boys, born hero-worshippers, + gathered in groups to await the brakes which should carry them to less + splendid summer sports, and spoke to each other in confidence of the + salmon which Mannix would catch and the multitude of grouse which would + fall before the explosions of his gun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Edward Mannix, Esq., M. P., father of the fortunate Frank, holds the + office of Parliamentary Under-Secretary of the War Office, a position of + great importance at all times, but particularly so under the circumstances + under which Mannix held it. His chief, Lord Tolerton, Secretary of State + for War, was incapacitated by the possession of a marquisate from sitting + in the House of Commons. It was the duty, the very onerous duty, of Mr. + Edward Mannix to explain to the representatives of the people who did not + agree with him in politics that the army, under Lord Torrington’s + administration, was adequately armed and intelligently drilled. The strain + overwhelmed him, and his doctor ordered him to take mud baths at + Schlangenbad. Mrs. Mannix behaved as a good wife should under such + circumstances. She lifted every care, not directly connected with the + army, from her husband’s mind. The beginning of Frank’s holidays + synchronised with the close of the parliamentary session. She arranged + that Frank should spend the holidays with Sir Lucius Lentaigne in + Rosnacree. She had every right to demand that her son should be allowed to + catch the salmon and shoot the grouse of Sir Lucius. Lady Lentaigne, who + died young, was Mrs. Mannix’s sister. Sir Lucius was therefore Frank’s + uncle. Edward Mannix, M. P., worried by Lord Torrington and threatened by + his doctor, acquiesced in the arrangement. He ordered a fishing rod and a + gun for Frank. He sent the boy a ten-pound note and then departed, + pleasantly fussed over by his wife, to seek new vigour in the mud of + Germany. + </p> + <p> + Frank Mannix, seventeen years old, prefect and hero, stretched himself + with calm satisfaction in a corner of a smoking carriage in the Irish + night mail. Above him on the rack were his gun-case, his fishing-rod, + neatly tied into its waterproof cover, and a brown kit-bag. He smoked a + nice Egyptian cigarette, puffing out from time to time large fragrant + clouds from mouth and nostrils. His fingers, the fingers of the hand which + was not occupied with the cigarette, occasionally caressed his upper lip. + A fine down could be distinctly felt there. In a good light it could even + be seen. Since the middle of the Easter term he had found it necessary to + shave his chin and desirable to stimulate the growth upon his upper lip + with occasional applications of brilliantine. He was thoroughly satisfied + with the brown tweed suit which he wore, a pleasant change of attire after + the black coats and grey trousers enjoined by the school authorities. He + liked the look of a Burberry gabardine which lay beside him on the seat. + There was a suggestion of sport about it; yet it in no way transgressed + the line of good taste. Frank Mannix was aware that his ties had set a + lofty standard to the school. He felt sure that his instinctive good taste + had not deserted him in choosing the brown suit and the gabardine. + </p> + <p> + Of his boots he was a little doubtful. Their brown was aggressive; but + that, so the gentleman in Harrod’s Stores who sold them had assured him, + would pass away in time. Aggressiveness of colour is inevitable in new + brown boots. + </p> + <p> + At Rugby he lit a second cigarette and commented on the warmth of the + night to an elderly gentleman who entered the carriage from the corridor. + The elderly gentleman was uncommunicative and merely growled in reply. + Mannix offered him a match. The gentleman growled again and lit his cigar + from his own matchbox. Mannix arrived at the conclusion that he must be, + for some reason, in a bad temper. He watched him for a while and then + decided further that he was, if not an actual “bounder,” at all events + “bad form.” The elderly gentleman had a red, blotched face, a thick neck, + and swollen hands, with hair on the backs of them. He wore a shabby coat, + creased under the arms, and trousers which bagged badly at the knees. + Mannix, had the elderly gentleman happened to be a small boy in Edmonstone + House, would have felt it his duty to impart to him something of the + indefinable quality of tone. + </p> + <p> + Shortly before reaching Crewe, the old gentleman having smoked three + cigars with fierce vigour, left the carriage. Mannix, feeling disinclined + for more tobacco, went to sleep. At Holyhead he was wakened from a deep + and dreamless slumber. A porter took his kit-bag and wanted to relieve him + also of the gun-case, the fishing-rod, and the gabardine. But Mannix, even + in his condition of half awakened giddiness clung to these. He followed + the porter across a stretch of wooden pier, got involved in a crowd of + other passengers at the steamer’s gangway, and was hustled by the elderly + gentleman who had smoked the three cigars. He still seemed to be in a bad + temper. After hustling Mannix, he swore, pushed a porter aside and forced + his way across the gangway. Mannix, now almost completely awake, resented + this behaviour very much and decided that the elderly gentleman was not in + any real sense of the word a gentleman, but simply a cad. + </p> + <p> + Indignation, though a passion of a harassing nature, does not actually + prevent sleep in a man of seventeen years of age who is in good general + health. Mannix coiled himself up on one of the sofas which line the + corridors of the Irish mail steamers. He was dimly conscious of seeing the + old gentleman who had hustled him trip over the gun case which lay at the + side of the sofa. Then he fell asleep. He was wakened—it seemed to + him rather less than five minutes later—by a steward who told him + that the steamer was rapidly approaching Kingstown Pier. He got up and + sought for means to wash. It is impossible for a self-respecting man who + has been brought up at an English public school to begin the day in good + humour unless he is able to wash himself thoroughly. But the designer of + the steamers of this particular line did not properly appreciate the fact. + He provided a meagre supply of basins for the passengers, many of whom, in + consequence, land at Kingstown Pier in irritable moods, Frank Mannix was + one of them. + </p> + <p> + The elderly gentleman, who appeared less than ever a gentleman at five + o’clock in the morning, was another. Mannix retained, in spite of his + sleepiness and his sensation of grime, a slight amount of self-control. He + was moderately grateful to an obsequious sailor who relieved him of his + kit bag. He carried, as he had the night before, his own gun-case and + fishing-rod. The elderly gentleman, who carried nothing, had no + self-control whatever. He swore at the overburdened sailor who took his + things ashore for him. Mannix proceeded in his turn to cross the gangway + and was unceremoniously pushed from behind by the elderly gentleman. He + protested with frigid politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t dawdle, boy, don’t dawdle,” said the elderly gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t hustle,” said Mannix. “This isn’t a football scrimmage.” + </p> + <p> + In order to say this effectively he stopped in the middle of the gangway + and turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Damn it all,” said the elderly gentleman, “go on and don’t try to be + insolent.” + </p> + <p> + Mannix was a prefect. He had, moreover, disposed of the captain of the + Uppingham eleven by a brilliant catch in the long field at a critical + moment of an important match. He had been praised in public by no less a + person than Mr. Dupré for his excellent influence on the tone of + Edmonstone House. He was not prepared to be sworn at and insulted by a + red-faced man with hairy hands at five o’clock in the morning. He flushed + hotly and replied, “Damn it all, sir, don’t be an infernal cad.” The + elderly gentleman pushed him again, this time with some violence. Mannix + stumbled, got his fishing-rod entangled in the rail of the gangway, swung + half round and then fell sideways on the pier. The fishing-rod, plainly + broken in pieces, remained in his hand. The gun-case bumped along the pier + and was picked up by a porter. Mannix was extremely angry. A tall lady, + apparently connected with the offensive red-faced gentleman, observed in + perfectly audible tones that schoolboys ought not to be allowed to travel + without some one in charge of them. Mannix’s anger rose to boiling point + at this addition of calculated insult to deliberate injury. He struggled + to his feet, intending then and there to speak some plain truths to his + assailant. He was immediately aware of a pain in his ankle. A pain so + sharp as to make walking quite impossible. The sailor who carried his bag + sympathised with him and helped him into the train. He felt the injured + ankle carefully and came to the conclusion that it was sprained. + </p> + <p> + Between Kingstown and Dublin Mannix arranged plans for handing over his + assailant to the police. That seemed to him the most dignified form of + revenge open to him. He was fully determined to take it. Unfortunately his + train carried him, slowly indeed, but inexorably, to the station from + which another train, the one in which he was to travel westwards to + Rosnacree, took its departure. The elderly gentleman and the lady with the + insolent manner, whose destination was Dublin itself, had left Kingstown + in a different train. Mannix saw no more of them and so was unable to get + them handcuffed. + </p> + <p> + Two porters helped him along the platform at Broadstone Station and + settled him in a corner of the breakfast carriage of the westward going + mail. A very sympathetic attendant offered to find out whether there was a + doctor in the train. It turned out that there was not. The sympathetic + attendant, with the help of a young ticket-collector in a neat uniform + offered to do the best he could for his ankle. The cook joined them, + leaving a quantity of bacon hissing in his pan. He was a man of some + surgical knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “It’s hot water,” he said, “that’s best for the like of that.” + </p> + <p> + “It could be,” said the ticket-collector, “that it’s broke on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Cold water,” said Mannix firmly. + </p> + <p> + “With a sup of whiskey in it,” said the attendant + </p> + <p> + “If it’s broke,” said the ticket-collector, “and you go putting whiskey + and water on it it’s likely that the young gentleman will be lame for + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe now,” said the cook derisively, “you’d be in favour of soda water + with the squeeze of a lemon in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not,” said the ticket-collector, “but a drop of sweet oil the way + the joint would be kept supple.” + </p> + <p> + “Get a jug of cold water,” said Mannix, “and something that will do for a + bandage.” + </p> + <p> + The attendant, with a glance at the cook, compromised the matter. He + brought a basin full of lukewarm water and a table napkin. The cook + wrapped the soaked napkin round the ankle. The ticket-collector tied it in + its place with a piece of string. The attendant coaxed the sock over the + bulky bandage. The new brown boot could by no means be persuaded to go on. + It was packed by the attendant in the kit bag. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my opinion,” said the ticket-collector, “that you’d get damages out + of the steamboat company if you was to process them.” + </p> + <p> + Mannix did not want to attack the steamboat company. He felt vindictive, + but his anger was all di-rected against the man who had injured him. + </p> + <p> + “There was a fellow I knew one time,” said the ticket-collector, “that got + £200 out of this company, and he wasn’t as bad as you nor near it.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember that well,” said the attendant “It was his elbow he + dislocated, and him getting out at the wrong side of the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “He’d have got more,” said the ticket-collector. “He’d have got £500 + instead of £200 if so be he’d have gone into the court, but that’s what he + couldn’t do, by reason of the fact that he happened to be travelling + without a ticket when the accident came on him.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed thoughtfully out of the window as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It might have been that,” said the attendant, “which was the cause of his + getting out at the wrong side of the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “He tried it,” said the ticket-collector, still looking straight in front + of him, “because he hadn’t a ticket.” + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for a minute. The story of the fraudulent traveller who + secured £200 in damages was an affecting one. At length the cook broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “The young gentleman here,” he said, “has his ticket right enough surely.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have,” said the ticket-collector. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Mannix, fumbling in his pocket “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m obliged to you,” said the ticket-collector. “It was it I wanted to + see.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn’t you ask me for it?” said Mannix. + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t do the like,” said the attendant, “and you with maybe a + broken leg.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not,” said the ticket-collector. “It would be a queer thing for + me to be bothering you about a ticket, and me just after tying a bit of + cord round as nasty a leg as ever I seen.” + </p> + <p> + “But when you wanted to see the ticket—” said Mannix. + </p> + <p> + “I drew down the subject of tickets,” said the collector, “the way you’d + offer me a look at yours, if so be you had one, but as for asking you for + it and you in pain, it’s what I wouldn’t do.” + </p> + <p> + There are travellers, cantankerous people, who complain that Irish railway + officials are not civil. Perhaps English porters and guards may excel them + in the plausible lip service which anticipates a tip. But in the Irishman + there is a natural delicacy of feeling which expresses itself in lofty + kinds of courtesy. An Englishman, compelled by a sense of duty to see the + ticket of a passenger, would have asked for it with callous bluntness. The + Irishman, knowing that his victim was in pain, approached the subject of + tickets obliquely, hinting by means of an anecdote of great interest, that + people have from time to time been known to defraud railway companies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Rosnacree House, the home of Sir Lucius Lentaigne and his ancestors since + the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes brought the family to Ireland in + search of religious freedom, stands high on a wooded slope above the + southern shore of a great bay. From the dining-room windows, so carefully + have vistas been cut through the trees, there is a broad prospect of sea + and shore. For eight miles the bay stretches north to the range of hills + which bound it. For five or six miles westward its waters are dotted over + with islands. There are, the people say, three hundred and sixty-five of + them, so that a fisher-man with a taste for exploration, could such a one + be found, might land on a different island every day for a whole year. + Long promontories, some of them to be reckoned with the three hundred and + sixty-five islands when the tide is high, run far out from the mainland. + Narrow channels, winding bewilderingly, eat their way for miles among the + sea-saturate fields of the eastward lying plain. The people, dwelling with + pardonable pride upon the peculiarities of their coast line, say that any + one who walked from the north to the south side of the bay, keeping + resolutely along the high-tide mark, would travel altogether 200 miles. He + would reach after his way-faring a spot which, measured on the map, would + be just eight miles distant from the point of his departure. Sir Lucius, + who loved his home, while he sometimes affects to despise it, says that he + believes this estimate of the extent of the sea’s meanderings to be + approximately correct, but adds that he has never yet met any one with + courage enough to attempt the walk. You do, in fact, come suddenly on + salt-water channels in the midst of fields at long distances from the sea, + and find cockles on stretches of mud where you might expect frog spawn or + black slugs. Therefore, it is quite likely that the high-tide line would + really, if it were stretched out straight, reach right across Ireland and + far out into St. George’s Channel. + </p> + <p> + In Rosnacree House, along with Sir Lucius, lives Juliet Lentaigne, his + maiden sister, elderly, intellectual, dominating, the competent mistress + of a sufficient staff of servants. She lived there in her girlhood. She + returned to live there after the death of Lady Lentaigne. Priscilla, Sir + Lucius’ only child, comes to Rosnacree House for such holidays as are + granted by a famous Dublin school. She was sent to the school at the age + of eleven because she rebelled against her aunt. Having reached the age of + fifteen she rebels more effectively, whenever the coming of holidays + affords opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Being a young woman of energy, determination and skill in rebellion, she + made an assault upon her Aunt Juliet’s authority on the very first morning + of her summer holidays. She began at breakfast time. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she said, “I may go to meet Cousin Frank at the train, mayn’t + I?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + It was right that some one should meet Frank Mannix on his arrival. Sir + Lucius did not want to do so himself. A youth of seventeen is a + troublesome guest, difficult to deal with. He is neither man enough to + associate on quite equal terms with grown men nor boy enough to be turned + loose to play according to his own devices. Sir Lucius did not look + forward to the task of entertaining his nephew. He was pleased that + Priscilla should take some part, even a small part, of the business off + his hands. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla glanced triumphantly at her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “There is no possible objection,” said Miss Lentaigne, “to your meeting + your cousin at the train, but if you are to do so you cannot spend the + morning in your boat.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla thought she could. + </p> + <p> + “I’m only going as far as Delginish to bathe,” she said. “I’ll be back in + lots of time.” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure you are,” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + “After being out in the boat,” said Miss Lentaigne, “you will be both + dirty and untidy, certainly not fit to meet your cousin at the train.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla, who had a good deal of experience of boats, knew that her + aunt’s fears were well founded. But she had not yet reached the age at + which a girl thinks it desirable to be clean, tidy and well dressed when + she goes to meet a strange cousin. She treated Miss Lentaigne’s opposition + as beneath contempt. + </p> + <p> + “I must bathe,” she said, “It’s the first day of the hols.” + </p> + <p> + “Holidays,” said Miss Lentaigne. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Courtney,” said Priscilla, “who won the prize for English + literature at school calls them ‘hols.’” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Sir Lucius, “settles it. The authority of any one who wins a + first prize in English literature——” + </p> + <p> + “And besides,” said Priscilla, “she said it, hols that is, to Miss + Pettigrew when she was asking when they began. <i>She</i> didn’t object.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lentaigne poured out her second cup of tea in silence. Against Miss + Pettigrew’s tacit approval of the word there was no arguing. Miss + Pettigrew, the head of a great educational establishment, does more than + win, she awards prizes in English literature. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla, released from the tedium of the breakfast table, sped down the + long avenue on her bicycle. Across the handle bars was tied a bundle, her + towel and scarlet bathing dress. From the back of the saddle, wobbling + perilously, hung a much larger bundle, a new lug sail, the fruit of hours + and hours of toilsome needlework on the wet days of the Christmas “hols.” + </p> + <p> + From the gate at the end of the avenue the road runs straight and steep + into the village. At the lower end of the village is the harbour, with its + long, dilapidated quay. This is the centre of the village life. Here are, + occasionally, small coasting steamers laden with coal or flour, and heavy + brigantines or topsail schooners which have felt their way from distant + English ports round a wildly inhospitable stretch of coast. Here, almost + always, are the bluff-bowed hookers from the outer islands, seeking + cargoes of flour and yellow Indian meal, bringing in exchange fish, dried + or fresh, and sometimes turf for winter fuel. Here are smaller boats from + nearer islands which have come in on the morning tide carrying men and + women bent on marketing, which will spread brown sails in the evening and + bear their passengers home again. Here at her red buoy lies Sir Lucius’ + smartly varnished pleasure boat, the <i>Tortoise</i>, reckoned “giddy” in + spite of her name by staid, cautious island folk; but able, with her + centre board and high peaked gunter lug to sail round and round any other + boat in the bay. Here, brilliantly green, lies Priscilla’s boat, the <i>Blue + Wanderer</i>, a name appropriate two years ago when she was blue, less + appropriate last year, when Peter Walsh made a mistake in buying paint, + and grieved Priscilla greatly by turning out the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> a + sober grey. This year, though the name still sticks to her, it is less + suitable still, for Priscilla, buying the paint herself at Easter time, + ordained that the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> should be green. + </p> + <p> + Above the quay, at the far side of the fair green, stands Brannigan’s + shop, a convenient and catholic establishment. To the left of the door as + you enter, is the shop of a publican, equipped with a bar and a sheltering + partition for modest drinkers. To the right, if you turn that way, is a + counter at which you can buy anything, from galvanised iron rowlocks to + biscuits and jam. On the low window sills of both windows sit rows of men + who for the most part earn an honest living by watching the tide go in and + out and by making comments on the boats which approach or leave the quay. + It is difficult to find out who pays them for doing these things, but it + is plain that some one does, for they are not men of funded property, and + yet they live, live comfortably, drink, smoke, eat occasionally and are + sufficiently clothed. Of only one among them can it be said with certainty + that he is in receipt of regular pay from anybody. Peter Walsh earns five + shillings a week by watching over the <i>Tortoise</i> and the <i>Blue + Wanderer</i>. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla leaped off her bicycle at the door of Bran-nigan’s shop. The men + on the window sills took no notice of her. They were absorbed in watching + the operation of warping round the head of a small steamer which lay far + down the quay. The captain had run out a hawser and made the end of it + fast to a buoy at the far side of the fair-way. A donkey-engine on the + steamer’s deck was clanking vigorously, hauling in the hawser, swinging + the head of the steamer round, a slow but deeply interesting manoeuvre. + “Peter Walsh,” said Priscilla, “is that you?” “It is, Miss,” said Peter, + “and it’s proud and pleased I am to see you home again.” “Is the <i>Blue + Wanderer</i> ready for me?” “She is, Miss. The minute you like to step + into her she’s there for you. There’s a new pair of rowlocks and I’ve a + nice bit of rope for a halyard for the little lug. Is it it you have tied + on the bicycle?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Priscilla, “and it’s a good sail, half as big again as the + old one.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d be glad now,” said Peter, “if you’d make that same halyard fast to + the cleat on the windward side any time you might be using the sail.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I’m a fool, Peter?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, Miss; but sure you know as well as I do that the mast that’s in + her isn’t over and above strong, and I wouldn’t like anything would + happen.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no wind any way.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not; but I wouldn’t say but there might be at the turn of the + tide.” + </p> + <p> + “Haul her up to the slip,” said Priscilla. “I’ll be back again long before + the tide turns.” + </p> + <p> + The steamer swung slowly round. The rattle of her donkey-engine was + plainly audible. The warp made fast to the buoy dipped into the water, + strained taut dripping, and then dipped again. Suddenly the captain on the + bridge shouted. The engine stopped abruptly. The warp sagged deep into the + water. A small boat with one man in her appeared close under the steamer’s + bows, went foul of the warp and lay heavily listed while one of her oars + fell into the water and drifted away. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a nice sort of fool to be out in a boat by himself,” said + Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “He was damn near having to swim for it,” said Peter, as the boat righted + herself and slipped over the warp. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t rightly know who he is,” said Peter, “but he paid four pounds for + the use of Flanagan’s old boat for a fortnight, so I’m thinking he has + very little sense.” + </p> + <p> + “He has none,” said Priscilla. “Look at him now.” + </p> + <p> + The man, deprived of one of his oars, was pushing his way along the + steamer’s side towards the quay. The captain was swearing heartily at him + from the bridge. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” said Priscilla, “I haven’t time to stay here and see him drown, + though of course it would be interesting. I’m going to bathe and I have to + get back again in time to meet the train.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh laid the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> alongside the slip. He laced the + new lug to its yard, made fast the tack and hoisted it, gazing critically + at it as it rose. Then he stepped out of the boat. Priscilla flung her + bathing-dress and towel on board and took her seat in the stern. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find the tiller under the floor board, Miss. With the little air + of wind there is from the south you’ll slip down to Delginish easy enough + if it’s there you’re thinking of going.” + </p> + <p> + “Shove her head round now, Peter, and give her a push off. I’ll get way on + her when I’m out a bit from the slip.” + </p> + <p> + The sail flapped, bellied, flapped again, finally swung over to starboard. + Priscilla settled herself in the stern with the sheet in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The tide’s under you, Miss,” said Peter Walsh, “You’ll slip out easy + enough.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Blue Wanderer</i>, urged by the faint southerly breeze, slid along. + The water was scarcely rippled by the wind but the tide ran strongly. One + buoy after another was passed. A large black boat lay alongside the quay, + loaded heavily with gravel. The owner leaned over his gunwale and greeted + Priscilla. She replied with friendly familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Kinsella? How’s Jimmy and the baby? I expect the baby’s + grown a lot.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re looking fine yourself, Miss,” said Joseph Antony Kinsella. “The + baby and the rest of them is doing grand, thanks be to God.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Blue Wanderer</i> slipped past. She reached one and then another of + the perches which mark the channel into the harbour. The breeze freshened + slightly. Little wavelets formed under the <i>Blue Wandere’s</i> bow and + curled outwards from her sides, spreading slowly and then fading away in + her wake. Priscilla drew a biscuit from her pocket and munched it + contentedly. + </p> + <p> + Right ahead of her lay the little island of Delginish with a sharply + shelving gravel shore. On the northern side of it stood two warning red + perches. There were rocks inside them, rocks which were covered at full + tide and half tide, but pushed up their brown sea-weedy backs when the + tide was low. Priscilla put down her tiller, hauled on her sheet and + slipped in through a narrow passage. She rounded the eastern corner of the + island and ran her boat ashore in a little bay. She lowered the sail, + slipped off her shoes and stockings and pushed the boat out. A few yards + from the shore, she dropped her anchor and waited till the boat swung + shorewards again to the length of her anchor rope. Then, with her + bathing-dress in her hand she waded to the land. The tide was falling. + Priscilla had been caught more than once by an ebbing tide with a boat + left high and dry. It was not an easy matter to push the Blue Wanderer + down a stretch of stony beach. Precautions had to be taken to keep her + afloat. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, a brilliant scarlet figure, she was wading out again, + knee deep, waist deep. Then with a joyful plunge she swam forward through + the sun-warmed water. She came abreast of the corner of her bay, the + eastern point of Delginish, turned on her back and splashed deliciously, + sending columns of glistening foam high into the air. Standing upright + with outspread hands and head thrown back, she trod water, gazing straight + up into the sky. She lay motionless on her back, totally immersed save for + eyes, nostrils and mouth. A noise of oars roused her. She rolled over, + swam a stroke or two, and saw Flanagan’s old boat come swiftly down the + channel. The stranger, who had courted disaster by fouling the steamer’s + warp, tugged unskilfully at his oars. He headed for the island. Priscilla + shouted to him. + </p> + <p> + “Keep out,” she said. “You’re going straight for the rocks.” + </p> + <p> + The young man in the boat turned round and stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Pull your right oar,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The young man pulled both oars hard, missed the water with his right and + fell backwards to the bottom of the boat. His two feet stuck up + ridiculously. Priscilla laughed. The boat, swept forward by the tide, + grounded softly on the sea wrack which covered the rocks. + </p> + <p> + “There you are, now,” said Priscilla. “Why didn’t you do what I told you?” + </p> + <p> + The young man struggled to his feet, seized an oar and began to push + violently. + </p> + <p> + “That’s no use,” said Priscilla, swimming close under the rocks. “You’ll + have to hop out or you’ll be stuck there till the tide rises, and that + won’t be till swell on in the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + The young man eyed the water doubtfully. Then he spoke for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Is it very deep?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Where you are,” said Priscilla, “it’s quite shallow, but if you step over + the edge of the rock there’s six foot of water and more.” + </p> + <p> + The young man sat down and began to unlace his boots. + </p> + <p> + “If you wait to do that,” said Priscilla, “you’ll be high and dry + altogether. Never mind your boots. Hop out and shove.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped cautiously over the side of his boat, seized his gunwale and + shoved. The boat slipped off the rock, stern first. The young man + staggered, loosed his hold on her and then stood gaping helplessly, ankle + deep in water perched on a very slippery rock, while the boat slipped away + from him, stemming the tide as long as the impulse of his push lasted. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Stand where you are,” said Priscilla. “She’ll drift down to you again. + I’ll give her a shove so that she’ll come right up to you.” + </p> + <p> + She swam after the boat and laid a hand on her gunwale. Then, kicking and + splashing, guided her back to the young man on the rock. He climbed on + board. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you suppose you’re going?” asked Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “To an island,” said the young man. + </p> + <p> + “If one island is the same to you as another,” said Priscilla, “and you + haven’t any particular one in your mind, I’d advise you to stop at this + one.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + The young man looked at her suspiciously and then took his oars. + </p> + <p> + “I hope your island is quite near,” said Priscilla, “For if it isn’t + you’re not likely to get there. Were you ever in a boat before?” + </p> + <p> + The young man pulled a few strokes and got his boat into the channel + beyond the red perches. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Priscilla, “that you might say ‘thank you,’ Only for me + you’d have been left stranded on that rock till the tide rose again and + floated you off somewhere between four and five o’clock this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the young man, “thank you very much indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + The question seemed to frighten him. He began to row with desperate + energy. In a few minutes he was far down the channel. Priscilla watched + him. Then she swam to her bay, pushed the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> a little + further from the shore and landed. + </p> + <p> + The island of Delginish is a pleasant spot on a warm day. Above its gravel + beach rises a slope of coarse short grass, woven through with wild thyme + and yellow crowtoe. Sea-pinks cluster on the fringe of grass and delicate + groups of fairy-flax are bright-blue in stony places. Red centaury and + yellow bed-straw and white bladder campion flourish. Tiny wild roses, + clinging to the ground, fleck the green with spots of vivid white. The sun + reaches every yard of the shadeless surface of the island. Here and there + grey rocks peep up, climbed over, mellowed by olive green stonecrops. + Priscilla, glowing from her bath, lay full stretch among the flowers, + drawing deep breaths of scented air and gazing at the sky. But nothing was + further from her mind than soulful sentimentalising over the beauties of + nature. She was puzzling about the young man who had left her, endeavoring + to arrive at some theory of who he was and what he could be doing in + Rosnacree. After awhile she turned over on her side, fumbled in her pocket + and drew out two more biscuits in crumbly fragments. She munched them + contentedly. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock she raised herself slowly on one elbow and looked round. + The tide had nearly reached its lowest, and the Blue Wanderer lay half in, + half out of the water; her stern perched high, her bow with the useless + anchor rope depending from it, dipped deep. Priscilla realised that she + had no time to lose. She put her shoulder to the stern of the boat and + pushed, springing on board as the boat floated. The Blue Wanderer, even + with her new lug sail, does not work well to windward. It is possible by + very careful steering to make a little by tacking if the breeze is good + and the tide is running favourably. With a light wind and in the slack + water of the ebb the most that can be done is not to go to leeward. + Priscilla, with the necessity of meeting a train present in her mind, + unstepped the mast and took her oars. In twenty minutes she was alongside + the slip where Peter Walsh stood waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + “I was talking to Joseph Anthony Kinsella,” he said, “since you were out—him + that lives beyond in Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you?” said Priscilla. “I saw him in his boat as I was going out, + with a big load of gravel on board. He says the baby’s all right.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be,” said Peter. “Any way, he said nothing to the contrary when he + was with me. It wasn’t the baby we were speaking of. Will you mind + yourself now, Miss. That slip is terribly slippery at low tide on account + of the green weed that does be growing on it. Take care but you might + fall.” + </p> + <p> + The warning came a little too late. Priscilla stepped from the boat and + immediately fell forward on her hands and knees. When she rose there was a + large, damp green patch on the front of her dress. + </p> + <p> + “Will you look at that, now?” said Peter. “Didn’t I tell you to go easy? + Are you hurted, Miss?” + </p> + <p> + “If it wasn’t the new baby you were talking about,” said Priscilla, “what + was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Anthony Kinsella is just after telling me that he’s seen that + young fellow that has Flanagan’s old boat out beyond among the islands.” + </p> + <p> + “Which island? I asked him, but he wouldn’t tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Anthony didn’t rightly know, but it’s his belief that he’s on + Ilaunglos, or Ardilaun, or one of them to the north of Carrowbee.” + </p> + <p> + “He can’t be living there, then. There isn’t a house on any of those + islands.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Anthony was saying that he might maybe have a tent with him and be + sleeping in it the same as the tinkers would. I’ve heard of the like.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he see the tent?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not; but there could be a tent without his seeing it. What I seen + myself was the things the young fellow bought in Brannigan’s and put into + Flanagan’s old boat. He had a can of paraffin oil with a cork drove into + the neck of it, and he’d two loaves of bread done up in brown paper, and + he’d a couple of tins that might be meat of one kind or another, and along + with them he had a pound of tea and maybe two of sugar. I misdoubted when + I saw him carrying them down the quay, but it was some kind of a picnic he + was out for. Them kind of fellows has very little sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” said Priscilla, “that he’ll be drowned before long, and then + they’ll find some papers on his body that’ll tell us who he is. I must be + off now, Peter, or I’ll be late for the train.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re time enough, Miss. Sure them trains is never punctual.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not,” said Priscilla, “except on the days when you happen to be + late for them. Then they make a point of being up to the minute just to + score off you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + The train, as Priscilla prophesied, was strictly punctual. It was drawn up + at the platform when she leaped off her bicycle in front of the station. + As she passed through the gate she came face to face with Frank Mannix + supported by the station master and the guard. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” she said. “You’re my cousin Frank, I suppose. You look rather + sick.” + </p> + <p> + Frank gazed at her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Priscilla?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + He had formed no very definite mental picture of his cousin beforehand. + Little girls of fifteen years of age are not creatures of great interest + to prefects who have made remarkable catches in the long field and look + forward to establishing their manhood among the salmon and the grouse. So + far as he had thought of Priscilla at all he had placed her in the + background, a trim, unobtrusive maiden, who came down to dessert after + dinner and was kept under proper control at other times by a governess. It + shocked him a little to see a girl in a tousled blue cotton frock, with a + green stain on the front of it, with a tangle of damp fair hair hanging + round her head in shining strings, with unabashed fearless eyes which + looked at him with a certain shrewd merriment. + </p> + <p> + “You look wobbly,” said Priscilla. “Can’t you walk by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve met with an accident,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. I was afraid just at first that you might be the sort + that collapsed altogether after being seasick. Some people do, you know, + and they’re never much good for anything. I’m glad you’re not one of them. + Accidents are different of course. Nobody can ever be quite sure of not + meeting an accident.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the stain on the front of her dress as she spoke. It was + the result of an accident. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve sprained my ankle,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my belief,” said the guard, “that the young gentleman’s leg is broke + on him. That’s what the ticket-collector was after telling me at the + junction any way.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to cut off your sock?” said Priscilla. “The + station-master’s wife would lend me a pair of scissors. She’s sure to have + a pair. Almost everybody has.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wouldn’t,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + There had been trouble enough in getting the sock on over the damp table + napkin. He had no wish to have it taken off again unnecessarily. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Priscilla, “I won’t if you’d rather not of course; but + it’s the proper thing to do for a sprained ankle. Sylvia Courtney told me + so and she attended a course of Ambulance lectures last term and learnt + all about first aid on the battle-field. I wanted to go to those lectures + frightfully, but Aunt Juliet wouldn’t let me. Rather rot I thought it at + the time, but I saw afterwards that she couldn’t possibly on account of + her principles.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, following Priscilla’s rapid thought with difficulty, supposed that + Ambulance lectures, dealing necessarily with the human body, might be + considered by some people slightly unsuitable for young girls, and that + Aunt Juliet was a lady who set a high value on propriety. Priscilla + offered a different explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Christian Science,” she said. “That’s Aunt Juliet’s latest. There’s + always something. Can you sit on a car?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Frank. “If I was once up I could sit well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Let you make your mind easy about getting up,” said the station-master. + “We’ll have you on the side of the car in two twos.” + </p> + <p> + They hoisted him up, Priscilla giving advice and directions while they did + so. Then she took her bicycle from a porter who held it for her. + </p> + <p> + “The donkey-trap will bring your luggage,” she said. “It will be all + right.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to the coachman. + </p> + <p> + “Drive easy now, James,” she said, “and mind you don’t let the cob shy + when you come to the new drain that they’re digging outside the court + house. There’s nothing worse for a broken bone than a sudden jar. That’s + another thing that was in the Ambulance lectures.” + </p> + <p> + The car started. Priscilla rode alongside, keeping within speaking + distance of Frank. + </p> + <p> + “But my ankle’s not broken,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It may be. Anyhow I expect a jar is just as bad for a sprain. Very likely + the lecturer said so and Sylvia Courtney forgot to tell me. Pretty rotten + luck this, for you, Cousin Frank, on account of the fishing. You can’t + possibly fish and the river’s in splendid order. Father said so yesterday. + But perhaps Aunt Juliet will be able to cure you. She thinks she can cure + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be all right,” said Frank, “when I can rest my leg a bit—I + don’t think it’s really bad I daresay at the end of a week——” + </p> + <p> + “If Aunt Juliet cures you at all she’ll do it quicker than that. She had + Father out of bed the day after he got influenza last Easter hols. He very + nearly died afterwards on account of having to travel up to Dublin to go + to a nursing home when his temperature was 400 and something, but Aunt + Juliet said he was perfectly well all the time; so she may be able to fix + up that ankle of yours.” + </p> + <p> + They have, so it is understood, tried experiments in vegetarianism at + Haileybury; but Christian Science is not yet part of the regular + curriculum even on the modern side. Frank Mannix had only the vaguest idea + of what Miss Lentaigne’s beliefs were. He knew nothing at all about her + methods. Priscilla’s account of them was not very encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “All I want,” he said, “is simply to rest my ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” said Priscilla, “that you could sit in a boat? That’s + mine, the green one beside the slip. If you turn your head you’ll see her. + But perhaps it hurts you to turn your head. If it does you’d better not + try. The boat will be there all the same even if you don’t see her.” + </p> + <p> + They were passing the quay while she spoke, and Priscilla, who was a + little behind at the moment, pointed to the <i>Blue Wanderer</i>. Frank + discovered one of the disadvantages of an Irish car. The view of the + passengers, even if each one is alone on his side, is confined almost + entirely to objects on one side of the road. Only by twisting his neck in + a most uncomfortable way can any one see what lies directly behind him. + Frank made the effort and was unimpressed by the appearance of the <i>Blue + Wanderer</i>. She was exceedingly unlike the shining outriggers in which + he had sometimes rowed on the upper reaches of the Thames during earlier + summer holidays. + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” said Priscilla, “that the salt water will be jolly good for + your ankle, in reality, though Aunt Juliet will say it wont. She’s bound to + say that, of course, on account of her principles. All the same it may. + Peter Walsh was telling me the other day that it’s perfectly splendid for + rheumatism. I shouldn’t wonder a bit if sprained ankles and rheumatism are + much the same sort of thing, only with different names. But of course we + can’t go this afternoon. Aunt Juliet will demand to have first shy at you. + If she fails we may manage to sneak off to-morrow morning. But perhaps you + don’t care for boats, Cousin Frank.” + </p> + <p> + “I like boats very much.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a slightly patronising tone, as an elderly gentleman might + confess to a fondness for chocolates in order to please a small nephew. He + felt it necessary to make it quite clear to Priscilla that he had not come + to Rosnacree to be her playmate and companion. He had come to fish salmon + in company with her father and such other grown men as might from time to + time present themselves. Nursery games in stumpy green boats were not + consonant with his dignity. He did not want to hurt Priscilla’s feelings, + but he was anxious that she should understand his position. She seemed + unimpressed. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” she said. “I’ll row you. You can sit in the stern and + let your legs dangle over in the water. I’ve often done that when Peter + Walsh has been rowing. It’s quite a jolly thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + It was a thing which Frank Mannix was quite determined not to do. The + suggestion that he should behave in such a way struck him as “cheeky” in a + very high degree. A lower schoolboy in Edmondstone House, if he had + ventured to speak in such a way, would have been beaten with a fives bat. + But Priscilla was a girl and, as Frank understood, girls are not beaten. + He answered her with kindly condescension. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we’ll be able to manage it some day,” he said, “before I leave.” + </p> + <p> + They arrived at Rosnacree House and Frank was helped up the steps by the + butler and the coachman. Sir Lucius expressed the greatest regret when he + heard of his nephew’s accident. + </p> + <p> + “It’s too bad,” he said, “too bad, and the river in such fine condition + after a fortnight’s rain. I was looking forward to seeing you get into + your first salmon. But cheer up, Frank, I daresay it won’t turn out to be + very tedious. We’ll have you hobbling along in a week or a fortnight. + We’ve a good while before us yet. I’ll get up O’Hara this afternoon, our + local practitioner. Not a bad fellow at all, though he drinks a bit. Still + he’ll know what to do with a sprained ankle. Oh! by the way perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius’ sentence ended abruptly. His sister entered the room. She + greeted Frank and inquired whether he had enjoyed his journey. The story + of the accident was told to her. It was evident at once that she took a + keen interest in the sprained ankle. Priscilla, describing the scene + afterwards to Rose, the under housemaid, said that Miss Lentaigne’s eyes + gleamed and sparkled with joy. Every one in the household had for many + weeks carefully refrained from illness or disability of any kind. If Miss + Lentaigne’s eyes really did sparkle they expressed a perfectly natural + delight. There is nothing more trying than to possess a power of healing + and to find no opportunity for exercising it. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, “Frank and I may have a little talk together after + luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius was a man of hospitable instincts with high old-fashioned ideas + of the courtesy due by a host to his guest. He did not think it quite fair + to subject Frank to a course of Christian Science. But he was also very + much afraid of his sister, whom he recognised as his intellectual + superior. He cleared his throat and made a nervous protest on Frank’s + behalf. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure, Juliet,” he said, “I’m really not at all sure that your + theory quite applies to sprains, especially ankles.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lentaigne smiled very gently. Her face expressed a tolerant patience + with the crude ideas entertained by her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Sir Lucius went on, “there’s a great deal in your idea. I’ve + always said so. In the case of any internal disease, nerves you know, and + that kind of thing where there’s nothing actually visible, I’m sure it + works out admirably, quite admirably, but with a sprained ankle! Come now, + Juliet, there’s the swelling you know. You can’t deny the swelling. Hang + it all, you can measure the swelling with a tape. Is your ankle much + swelled, Frank?” + </p> + <p> + “A good deal. But it’s not worth making a fuss about. It’ll be all right.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lentaigne smiled again. In her opinion it was all right already. + There was not really any swelling, although Frank, in his ignorance, might + honestly think there was. She hoped, after luncheon, to convince him of + these pleasant truths. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius was a coward at heart. He was exceedingly sorry for his nephew, + but he made no further effort to save him from the ministrations of Miss + Lentaigne. Nor did he venture to mention the name of O’Hara, the + excellent, though occasionally inebriate, local practitioner. Frank, as + yet unaware of the full beauty of the scientific Christian method of + dealing with illness, was very polite to Miss Lentaigne during luncheon. + He talked to her about Parliament and its doings as a subject likely to + interest her, assuming the air of a man who knows the inner secrets of the + Cabinet. He did, in fact, know a good deal about the habits and manners of + our legislators, having picked up details of an interesting kind from his + father. Miss Lentaigne was greatly delighted with him. So was Priscilla, + who winked three times at her father when neither Frank nor her aunt was + looking at her. Sir Lucius was uneasy. He feared that his nephew was + likely to turn out a prig, a kind of boy which he held in particular + abhorrence. + </p> + <p> + When luncheon was over he said that he intended to take his rod and go up + the river for the afternoon. He invited Priscilla to go with him and carry + his landing net. Frank, preceded by Miss Lentaigne, was conducted by the + butler to a hammock chair agreeably placed under the shade of a lime tree + on the lawn. When Sir Lucius and Priscilla, laden with fishing gear, + passed him, he was still making himself politely agreeable to Miss + Lentaigne. Priscilla winked at him. He returned the salutation with a + stare which was intended to convince her that winking was a particularly + vicious kind of bad form. Miss Lentaigne, as Priscilla noticed, sat with + two treatises on Christian Science in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla, returning without her father at half past six o’clock, found + Frank sitting alone under the lime tree. He was in a singularly chastened + mood and inclined to be companionable and friendly, even with a girl of no + more than fifteen years old. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Priscilla,” he said, “is that old aunt of yours quite mad?” + </p> + <p> + There was something in the way he expressed himself which delighted + Priscilla. He had reverted to the phraseology of an undignified schoolboy + of the lower fifth. The veneer of grown manhood, even the polish of a + prefect, had, as it were, peeled off him during the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Priscilla. “She’s frightfully clever, what’s called + intellectual. You know the sort of thing. How’s your ankle?” + </p> + <p> + “She says it isn’t sprained. But, blow it all, it’s swelled the size of + the calf of your leg.” + </p> + <p> + He did not mean Priscilla’s leg particularly; but with a slight lift of an + already short skirt she surveyed her own calf curiously. She wanted to + know exactly how thick Frank’s injured ankle was. + </p> + <p> + “Then she didn’t cure it?” + </p> + <p> + “Cure it!” said Frank, “I should think not. She simply kept on telling me + I only thought it was sprained. I never heard such rot talked in all my + life. How do you stand it at all?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nothing,” said Priscilla. “We’re quite glad she’s taken to + Christian Science; though she did nearly kill poor father. Before that she + was all for teetotallity—that’s not quite the right word, but you + know the thing I mean, drinking nothing but lemonade, either homemade or + the kind that fizzes. I didn’t mind that a bit for I like lemonade, both + sorts, but father simply hated it. He told me he’d rather go up to that + nursing home in Dublin every time he feels ill than live through another + six months on lemonade. Before that she was frightfully keen on a thing + called uric acid. Do you know what that is, Cousin Frank?” “No,” he said, + “I don’t. How did it take her?” “She wouldn’t give us anything to eat,” + said Priscilla, “except queer sort of mashes which she said were made of + nuts and biscuits and things. I got quite thin and as weak as a cat.” “I + wonder you stuck it out.” “Oh, it didn’t last long. None of them do, you + know. That’s our great consolation; though we rather hope the Christian + Science will on account of its doing us no particular harm. She doesn’t + mind what we eat or drink, which is a great comfort. She can’t you know, + according to her principles, because when there’s no such thing as being + sick it can’t matter how much whipped cream or anything of that sort you + eat just before you go to bed at night. She didn’t like it a bit when I + got up on Christmas night and foraged out nearly a quarter of a cold plum + pudding. She was just going up to bed and she caught me. She wanted + awfully to stop me eating it, but she couldn’t without giving the whole + show away, so I ate it before her very eyes. That’s the beauty of + Christian Science.” “But I say, Priscilla, weren’t you sick?” “Not a bit. + When Father heard about it next morning he said he thought there must be + something in Aunt Juliet’s theory after all. He has stuck to that ever + since, though he says it doesn’t apply to influenza. She had a great idea + about fresh air one time, and got up a carpenter to take the window + frames, windows and all, clean out of my room. I used to have to borrow + hairpins from Rose—she’s the under housemaid and a great friend of + mine—so as to fasten the bedclothes on to the mattress. Otherwise + they blew away during the night, while I was asleep. That was one of the + worst times we ever had, though I don’t think Father minded it so much. He + used to go out and smoke in the harness room. But I hated it worse than + anything except the uric acid. You never knew where your clothes would be + in the morning if it was the least stormy, and my hair used to blow into + soup and tea and things, which made it frightfully sticky.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” said Frank, “that she’ll leave me alone now? Or will she + want to have another go at me to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure to,” said Priscilla, “unless you give in that your ankle is quite + well.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can’t walk.” + </p> + <p> + “That won’t matter in the least. She’ll say you can. Aunt Juliet is + tremendously determined. Poor Rose—I told you she is the under + housemaid, didn’t I? She is any way. Poor Rose once got a swelled face on + account of a tooth that she wouldn’t have out. Aunt Juliet kept at her, + reading little bits out of books and kind of praying, in passages and + pantries and places, wherever she met Rose. That went on for more than a + week. Then Rose got Dr. O’Hara to haul the tooth and the swelling went + down. Aunt Juliet said it was Christian Science cured her. And of course + it may have been. You never can tell really what it is that cures people.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Frank, “if I could manage to get down to the boat + to-morrow. You said something about a boat, didn’t you, Priscilla? Is it + far?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll work that all right for you. As it just happens, luckily enough + there’s an old bath-chair in a corner of the hay-loft. I came across it + last hols when I was looking for a bicycle pump I lost. I was rather + disappointed at the time, not thinking that the old chair would be any + use, whereas I wanted the pump. Now it turns out to be exactly what we + want, which shows that well directed labour is never really wasted. The + front-wheel is a bit groggy, but I daresay it’ll hold all right as far as + the quay. I’ll go round after dinner to-night and fish it out. I can wheel + you quite easily, for it’s all down hill.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had not intended when he left England to go about the country in a + bath-chair with a groggy front-wheel. For a moment he hesitated. A wild + fear struck him of what the Uppingham captain—that dangerous bat + whose innings his brilliant catch had cut short—might say and think + if he saw the vehicle. But the Uppingham captain was not likely to be in + Rosnacree. Christian Science was a more threatening danger. He pictured to + himself the stare of amazement on the countenance of Mr. Dupré and the + sniggering face of young Latimer who collected beetles and hated washing. + But Mr. Dupré, Latimer and the members of the house eleven, were, no + doubt, far off. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lentaigne was very near at hand. He accepted Priscilla’s offer. + </p> + <p> + “Right,” she said. “I’ll settle the chair, if I have to tie it together + with my hair ribbon. It’s nice to think of that old chair coming in useful + in the end. It must have been in the loft for ages and ages. Sylvia + Courtney told me that her mother says anything will come in useful if you + only keep it long enough; but I don’t know whether that’s true. I don’t + think it can be, quite, for I tried it once with a used up exercise-book + and it didn’t seem to be the slightest good even after years and years, + though it got most frightfully tattered. Still it may be true. You never + can tell about things of that sort, and Sylvia Courtney says her mother is + extremely wise; so she may be quite right. + </p> + <p> + “Christian Science,” said Frank bitterly, “wouldn’t be of any use if you + kept it for centuries. What’s the use of saying a thing isn’t swelled when + it is?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + A night’s rest restored self-respect to Frank Mannix. He felt when his + clothes were brought to him in the morning by a respectful footman that he + had to some extent sacrificed his dignity in his confidential talk with + Priscilla the day before. He had committed himself to the bath-chair and + the boating expedition, and he had too high a sense of personal honour to + back out of an engagement definitely made. But he determined to keep + Priscilla at a distance. He would go with her, would to some extent join + in her childish sports; but it must be on the distinct understanding that + he did so as a grown man who condescends to play games with an amusing + child. With this idea in his mind he dressed himself very carefully in a + suit a cricket flannels. The garments were in themselves suitable for + boating as he understood the sport. They were also likely, he thought, to + impress Priscilla. The white flannel coat, bound round its edges with + crimson silk, was at Haileybury part of a uniform set apart for the sole + use of members of the first eleven who had actually got their colours. The + crimson sash round his waist was a badge of the same high office. Small + boys, who played cricket on the house pitches in the Little Side ground, + bowed in awed humility before a member of the first eleven when he + appeared before them in all his glory and felt elated if they were allowed + to walk across the quadrangle with any one who wore the sacred vestments. + Frank had little doubt that Priscilla, who was to be his companion for the + day would realise the greatness of her privileges. + </p> + <p> + But Priscilla seemed curiously unimpressed. She met him in the breakfast + room before either Sir Lucius or Miss Lentaigne came down. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scot! Cousin Frank,” she said, “you are a howler!” + </p> + <p> + Frank drew himself up; but realised even as he did so that he must make + some reply to Priscilla. It was impossible to pretend not to know that she + was speaking about his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “An old suit of flannels,” he said with elaborate carelessness. “I hope + you didn’t expect me to be grand.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw anything grander in my life,” said Priscilla. “I thought + Sylvia Courtney’s summer Sunday hat was swankey; but it’s simply not in it + with your coat. I suppose that belt thing is real silk.” + </p> + <p> + “School colours,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Ours are blue and dark yellow. I have them on a hockey blouse.” + </p> + <p> + The bath-chair turned out to be rather more dilapidated and disreputable + than Frank expected. The front-wheel—bound to its place with string, + not hair ribbon—seemed very likely indeed to come off. He eyed it + doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re afraid,” said Priscilla, “that it will dirty your beautiful + white trousers, I’ll give it a rub-over with my pocket-handcher. But I + don’t think that’ll be much use really. You’ll be filthy from head to foot + in any case before we get home.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, limping with as much dignity as possible, sat down in the chair. He + got out his cigarette case and asked Priscilla not to start until he had + lit his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t object to the smell, I hope,” he said politely. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. I’d smoke myself only I don’t like it. I tried once—Sylvia + Courtney was shocked. That’s rather the sort she is—but it seemed to + me to have a nasty taste. You’re sure you like it, Cousin Frank? Don’t do + it simply because you think you ought.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla pushed the bath-chair from behind. Frank guided the shaky front + wheel by means of a long handle. They went down the avenue at an extremely + rapid pace, Priscilla moving in a kind of jaunty canter. When they reached + the gate Frank’s cigarette had gone out. There was a pause while he lit it + again. Then he asked Priscilla to go a little less quickly. He wished his + approach to the public street of the village to be as little grotesque as + possible. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said Priscilla, “have you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. How much do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends. I have eightpence, which ought to be enough unless you want + something very expensive to drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should we take anything to drink? We said at breakfast that we’d be + back for luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + “We won’t,” said Priscilla, “nor we won’t for tea. Lucky if we are for + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “But Miss Lentaigne said she’d expect us. If we stay out she won’t like + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let her dis.,” said Priscilla. “Now what do you want to drink? I always + have lemon flavoured soda. It’s less sticky than regular lemonade. Stone + ginger beer is better than either, of course, but Brannigan doesn’t keep + it, I can’t imagine why not.” + </p> + <p> + “If we’re going to stay out,” said Frank, “I’ll have beer, lager for + choice.” + </p> + <p> + “Right. Lager is twopence. Lemon flavoured soda twopence if we bring back + the bottles. That will leave fourpence for biscuits which ought to be + enough.” + </p> + <p> + Fourpence worth of biscuits seemed to Frank an insufficient supply of food + for two people who are to be on the sea for the whole day. He saw, + besides, an opportunity of asserting once for all his position of + superiority. He made up his mind to tip Priscilla. He fumbled in his + pocket for a coin. + </p> + <p> + “You get quite a lot of biscuits for fourpence,” said Priscilla, “if you + go in for plain arrowroot. Of course they’re rather dull, but then you get + very few of the better sorts. Take macaroons, for instance. They’re nearly + a halfpenny each in Brannigan’s. Sheer robbery, I call it.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, determined to do the thing handsomely if he did it at all, passed + half a crown to Priscilla over the back of the bath chair. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” he said, “buy macaroons by all means if you like them. + Buy as many as you want.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla received the half-crown without any appearance of shame. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re prepared to lash out money in that way,” she said, “we may as + well have a tongue. Brannigan has small ones at one and sixpence. Brawn of + course is cheaper, but then if you have brawn you want a tin-opener. The + tongues are in glass jars which you can break with a stone or a rowlock. + The lids are supposed to come off quite easily if you jab a knife through + them, but they don’t really. All that happens is a sort of fizz of air and + the lid sticks on as tight as ever. Things hardly ever do what they’re + supposed to according to science, which makes me think that science is + rather rot, though, of course, it may have its uses only that I don’t know + them.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla wheeled the bath-chair for some distance along the road without + speaking. Then she asked another question. + </p> + <p> + “Which would you rather have, the tongue or a tin of Californian peaches. + They’re one and sixpence too, so we can’t have both, for it would be a + pity to miss the chance of one and fourpence worth of macaroons. I don’t + remember ever having so many at one time before. Though of course they’re + not really so many when there are two of us to eat them.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give you another one and sixpence,” said Frank, “and then you’ll be + able to get the peaches too if you want them. I rather bar those tinned + fruits myself. They have no flavour.” + </p> + <p> + On Saturday evenings, when prefects and all self-respecting members of the + upper and middle schools have tea in their studies, Frank was accustomed + to eat tinned lobsters and sometimes tinned salmon, but he knew that + superiority to such forms of food was one of the marks of a grown man. He + hoped, by speaking slightingly of the Californian peaches, to impress + Priscilla with the idea that he was a sort of uncle of hers. The luncheon + was involving him in considerable expense, but he did not grudge the money + if it produced the effect he desired. Unfortunately it did not. + </p> + <p> + “Well have a gorgeous bust,” said Priscilla. “I shouldn’t wonder if + Brannigan got some kind of fit when we spend all that in his shop at once. + He’s not accustomed to millionaires.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, not being able to find a shilling and a sixpence in his pocket, + handed over another half crown. Priscilla promised to give him his change. + She stopped the bath-chair at the door of Brannigan’s shop. The men of + leisure who sat on the window sills stared curiously at Frank. Young + gentlemen dressed in white flannels and wheeled in bath-chairs are rare in + Rosnacree. Frank felt embarrassed and annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me half a mo.,” said Priscilla. “I’ll just speak a word to Peter + Walsh and then do the shopping. Peter, you’re to get the sails on the <i>Tortoise</i> + at once.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with such decisive authority that Peter Walsh felt quite certain + that she had no right to give the order. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the <i>Tortoise</i>, Miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I say the <i>Tortoise</i>. Go and get the sails at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Peter, “whether would your da be pleased with me if I + sent you out in the <i>Tortoise</i>. Sure you know——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mannix and I,” said Priscilla, “are going out for the day in the <i>Tortoise</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh took a long look at Frank. He was apparently far from + satisfied with the result of his inspection. + </p> + <p> + “Of course if the young gentleman in the perambulator is going with you, + Miss—the <i>Tortoise</i> is a giddy kind of a boat, your honour, and + without you’d be used to her or the like of her—but sure if you’re + satisfied—but what it is, the master gave orders that Miss Priscilla + wasn’t to go out in the <i>Tortoise</i> without either himself or me would + be along with her.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was painfully aware that he was not used to the <i>Tortoise</i> or + to any boat the least like her. He had never in his life been to sea in a + sailing boat for the management of which he was in any way responsible. He + was, in fact, entirely ignorant of the art of boat sailing. But the men + who sat on the window sills of Brannigan’s shop, battered sea dogs every + one of them, had their eyes fixed on him. It would be deeply humiliating + to have to own up before them that he knew nothing about boats. Sir + Lucius’s order applied, very properly, to Priscilla who was a child. Peter + Walsh looked as if he thought that Frank also ought to be treated as a + child. This was intolerable. The day seemed very calm. It was difficult to + think that there could be any real risk in going out in the __Tortoise__. + Priscilla nudged him sharply with her elbow. Frank yielded to temptation. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lentaigne,” he said, “will be quite safe with me.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with lordly self-confidence, calculated, he thought, to impress + the impudent loafers on the window sills and to reduce Peter Walsh to + prompt submission. Having spoken he felt unreasonably angry with Priscilla + who was grinning. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh ambled down to the quay. He climbed over the dredger, which + was lying alongside, and dropped from her into a small water-logged punt. + In this he ferried himself out to the <i>Tortoise</i>. Priscilla bounded + into Brannigan’s shop. The sea dogs on the window sills eyed Frank and + shook their heads. It was painfully evident that his self-confident tone + had not imposed on them. + </p> + <p> + “There’s not much wind any way,” said one of them, “and what there is will + be dropping with the ebb.” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll work round to the west with the flood,” said another. “With the + weather we’re having now it’ll follow the sun.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla came out of the shop laden with parcels which she placed one by + one on Frank’s lap. + </p> + <p> + “Beer and lemonade,” she said. “The beast was out of lemon flavoured soda, + so I had to get lemonade instead, but your lager’s all right. You don’t + mind drinking out of the bottle, do you, Cousin Frank? You can have the + bailing tin of course, if you like, but it’s rather salty. Macaroons and + cocoanut creams. They turned out to be the same price, so I thought I + might as well get a mixture. The cocoanut creams are lighter, so one gets + more of them for the money. Tongue. I told him not to put paper on the + tongue. I always think brown paper is rather a nuisance in a boat. It gets + so soppy when it’s the least wet. There’s no use having more of it than we + can help. Peaches. He hadn’t any of the small one and sixpenny tins, so I + had to spend your other shilling to make up the half-crown for the big + one. I hope you don’t mind. We shall be able to finish it all right I + expect. Oh, bother! I forgot that the peaches require a tin-opener. Have + you a knife? If you have we may be able to manage by hammering it along + through the lid of the tin with a rowlock.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had a knife, but he set some value on it He did not want to have it + reduced to the condition of a coarse toothed saw by being hammered through + a tin with a rowlock. He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Priscilla, “if you’d rather not have it used I’ll go and + try to stick Brannigan for the loan of a tin-opener. He may not care for + lending it, because things like tin-openers generally drop overboard and + then of course he wouldn’t get it back. But he’ll hardly be able to refuse + it I offer to deposit the safety pin in my tie as a hostage. It looks + exactly as if it is gold, and, if it was, would be worth far more than any + tin-opener.” + </p> + <p> + She went into the shop again. It was nearly ten minutes before she came + out. Frank was seriously annoyed by a number of small children who crowded + round the bath-chair and made remarks about his appearance. He tried to + buy them off with macaroons, but the plan failed, as a similar one did in + the case of the Anglo-Saxon king and the Danes. The children, like the + Norse pirates, returned almost immediately in increased numbers. Then + Priscilla appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should have had a frightful rag with Brannigan over the + tin-opener,” she said, “but he was quite nice about it. He said he’d lend + it with pleasure and didn’t care whether I left him the safety pin or not. + The only trouble was that he couldn’t find one. He said that he had a + gross of them somewhere, but he didn’t know where they’d been put. In the + end it was Mrs. Brannigan who found them in an old biscuit tin under some + oilskins. That’s what delayed me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh was hoisting a sail, a gunter lug, on the <i>Tortoise</i>. He + paused in his work now and then to cast a glance ashore at Frank. + Priscilla wheeled the bath-chair down to the slip and hailed Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up now,” she said, “and get the foresail on her. Don’t keep us here + all day.” + </p> + <p> + Peter pulled on the foresail halyards with some appearance of vigour. He + slipped the mooring rope and ran the <i>Tortoise</i> alongside the slip, + towing the water logged punt behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony Kinsella,” said Peter, “was in this morning on the flood + tide and he was telling me he came across that young fellow again near + Illaunglos.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he talking to him?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “He was not beyond passing the time of day or the like of that for Joseph + Antony had a load of gravel and he couldn’t be wasting his time. But the + young fellow was in Flanagan’s old boat and it was Joseph Antony’s opinion + that he was trying to learn himself how to row her.” + </p> + <p> + “He’d need to. But if that’s all that passed between them I don’t see that + we’re much further on towards knowing what that man is doing here.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony did say,” said Peter, “that the young gentleman was as + simple and innocent as a child and one that wouldn’t be likely to be doing + any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot, Miss. There’s a terrible lot of fellows going round the + country these times, sent out by the government that would be glad enough + to be interfering with the people and maybe taking the land away from + them. You’d never know who might be at such work and who mightn’t, but + Joseph Antony did say that the fellow in Flanagan’s old boat hadn’t the + look of it. He’s too innocent like.” + </p> + <p> + “Hop you out now, Peter,” said Priscilla, “and help Mr. Mannix down into + the boat. He has a sprained ankle and can’t walk by himself. Be careful of + him!” + </p> + <p> + The task of getting Frank into the <i>Tortoise</i> was not an easy one for + the slip was nearly as slimy as when Priscilla fell on it the day before. + Peter, with his arm round Frank’s waist, proceeded very cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Settle him down on the starboard side of the centre-board case,” said + Priscilla. “We’ll carry the boom to port on the run out.” + </p> + <p> + “You will,” said Peter, “for the wind’s in the east, but you’ll have to + jibe her at the stone perch if you’re going down the channel.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going down the channel. I mean to stand across to Rossmore and + then go into the bay beyond.” Priscilla stepped into the boat and took the + tiller. + </p> + <p> + “Did I hear you say, Miss, that you’re thinking of going on to Inishbawn?” + </p> + <p> + “You did not hear me say anything about Inishbawn; but I may go there all + the same if I’ve time. I want to see the Kinsellas’ new baby.” + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll take my advice, Miss,” said Peter, “you’ll not go next nor nigh + Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony Kinsella was telling me this morning that it’s alive with + rats, such rats nobody ever seen. They have the island pretty near eat + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk sense,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “They came out on the tide swimming,” said Peter, “like as it might be a + shoal of mackerel, and you think there’d be no end to them climbing up + over the stones and eating all before them.” + </p> + <p> + “Shove her bow round, Peter; and keep that rat story of yours for the + young man in Flanagan’s boat. He’ll believe it if he’s as innocent as you + say.” + </p> + <p> + Peter shoved out the <i>Tortoise</i>. The wind caught the sail. Priscilla + paid out the main sheet and let the boom swing forward. Peter shouted a + last warning from the slip. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony was telling me,” he said, “that they’re terrible fierce, + worser than any rats ever he seen.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> slipped along and was soon beyond the reach of his + voice. She passed the heavy hookers at the quay side, left buoy after buoy + behind her, bobbed cheerfully through a tide race at the stone perch, and + stood out, the wind right behind her, for Rossmore Head. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Rosnacree Bay is a broad stretch of water, but those who go down to it in + boats are singularly at the mercy of the tides. Save for certain channels + the water everywhere is shallow. At some remote period, it seems, the + ocean broke in and submerged a tract of low land between the mountains + which bound the north and south shores of the bay. What once were round + hillocks rising from boggy pasture land are now islands, sloping eastwards + to the water as they once sloped eastwards to green fields, but torn and + chafed into steep bluffs where the sea beats on their western sides. + </p> + <p> + But the ocean’s conquest is incomplete. Its empire is disputed still. The + very violence of the assault has checked its advance by piling up a mighty + breakwater of boulders right across the mouth of the bay. Gathered upon + sullenly firm based rocks these great round stones roll and roar and crash + when the full force of the Atlantic billows comes foaming against them. + They save the islands east of them. There are gaps in the breakwater, and + the sea rushes through these, but it is tamed of its ferocity, humiliated + from the grandeur of its strength so that it wanders, puzzled, bewildered, + through the waterways among the islands. The land asserts itself. Things + which belong to the land approach with contemptuous familiarity the very + verges of their mighty foe. On the edges of the water the islanders build + their hayricks, redolent of rural life, and set up their stacks of brown + turf. Geese and ducks, whose natural play places are muddy pools and + inland streams, swim through the salt water in the sheltered bays below + the cottages. Pigs, driven down to the shore to root among the rotting + seaweed, splash knee deep in the sea. At the time of high spring tides, in + March and at the end of September, the water flows in oily curves or + splashes muddily against the very thresholds of the cottages. It + penetrates the brine-soaked soil and wells turn brackish. It wanders far + inland through winding straits. The wayfarer, stepping across what seems + to be a ditch at the end of a field far from the sea wonders to hear brown + wrack crackle under his feet. + </p> + <p> + A few hours later the land asserts itself again. The sea draws back + sullenly at first. Soon its retreat becomes a very flight. The narrow ways + between the islands, calm an hour before, are like swift rivers. Through + the cleft gaps in the breakwater of boulders the sea goes back from its + adventurous wanderings to the ocean outside; but not as in other places, + where a deep felt homing impulse draws tired water to the voluminous + mother bosom of the Atlantic. Here, even on the calmest days, steep + wavelets curl and break over each other, like fugitives driven to + desperate flight by some maddening fear, prepared, so great is the terror + behind them, to trample on their own comrades in the race for security. + One after another all over the bay the wrack-clad backs of rocks appear. + Long swathes of brown slimy weed, tugging at submerged roots, lie writhing + on the surface of the ebbing streams. The islands grow larger. Confused + heaps of round boulders appear under their western bluffs. Cormorants + perch in flocks on shining stones, stretching out their narrow wings, + peering through tiny black eyes at the withdrawal of the sea. On the + eastern shores of every island, stretches of pebble-strewn mud widen + rapidly. The boats below the cottages lie dejected, mutely re-reproachful + of the anchors which have held them back from following the departed + waters. Soft green banks appear here and there, broaden, join one another, + until whole stretches of the bay, miles of it, show this pale sea grass + instead of water. Only the few deep channels remain, with their foolish + stranded buoys and their high useless perches, to witness to the fact that + at evening time the sea will claim its own again. + </p> + <p> + Very wonderful are the changes of the bay. The southwest wind sweeps rain + over it in slanting drifts. The islands show dimly grey amid a welter of + grey water, breaking angrily in short, petulant seas, which buffet boats + confusedly and put the helmsmen’s skill to a high test. Or chilly, curling + mists wrap islands and promontories from sight. Terns, circling somewhere + up above, cry to each other shrilly. Gulls flit suddenly into sight and + out of sight again, uttering sorrowful wails. Now and again cormorants, + low flying with a rushing noise, break the oily surface of the water with + every swift downward flapping of their wings. Then the boatman needs + something more than skill, must rely upon an inborn instinct for locality + if he is not to find himself embayed and aground in some strange + land-locked corner far from his home. Or, in the splendid summer days the + islands seem poised a foot or two above the glistening water. The white + terns hover and plunge, re-emerge amid the joyful callings of their + fellows, each with some tiny silver fish to feed to the yellow chicks + which gape to them from the short, coarse grass among the rocks. Curlews + call to each other from island to island, and high answering calls come + from the sea-saturated fields of the mainland. Small broad billed + guillemots and puffins float at ease upon the water, swelling with obvious + pride as they display the flocks of little ones which swim with infantile + solemnity around them. Gulls cluster and splash noisily over shoals of + fry. Then boats drift lazily along; piled high perhaps with brown turf, + store of winter fuel for some home; or bearing stolid cattle from the + cropped pasturage of one island to the untouched grass of another; or, + paddled, noisily, carry a crowd of boys and girls home from school, + mightily enriched no doubt with knowledge only to be obtained when the + water is calm enough for children’s sea-going in the summer days. + </p> + <p> + On such days all the drama of the flowing and ebbing tides may be watched + with ever increasing wonder and delight. The sea is caught by the islands + and goes whirling down the channels. It is turned backwards by some stray + spit of land and set beating against some other current of the same tide + which has taken a different way and reached the same point in strong + opposite flow. The little glistening wavelets leap to meet each other, + like lovers reunited whose mouths are hungry for the pressure of glad + greetings. There are places where the water eddies round and round, where + smooth eager lips, rising from the whirlpools, seem as if they reached up + for something to kiss, and are sucked down again into the depths with + voiceless passion. Foot by foot the water gains on the rocks beside the + channels, on the fringes of the boulders, on the stony shores, and covers + the stretches of mud: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The moving waters at their priestlike task + Of pale ablution round earth’s human shore. +</pre> + <p> + But they do not escape without defilement. On the surface of the tide, when + it ebbs from the mudbanks, there gathers an iridescent slime. Tiny + particles of floating sand catch and reflect the light. Fragments of dead + weed, black or brown, are borne along. The tide has stolen across the + beaches below the cottages and carried away the garbage cast there. It has + passed where a little while before the cattle strayed, and passing has + been stained. Here is no breaking of clear green waves against black + defiant rocks, no tumultuous pitched battle between the ocean, inspired by + the supreme passion of the tide, and the sullen resistance of unyielding + cliffs. Instead a dubious sea wanders in and out amid scenes which the + experience of many centuries has not made familiar to it. + </p> + <p> + It was into this shining bay that the <i>Tortoise</i> sped, her white + sails bellied with the pleasant wind. Priscilla exulted, with flushed + cheeks and sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + Frank, yielding a little to the fascination of the sailing, was yet ill at + ease. His conscience troubled him, the acutely sensitive conscience of a + prefect who had been responsible for the tone of Edmondstone House. He + feared that he had done wrong in going with Priscilla in the <i>Tortoise</i>, + wrong of a particularly flagrant kind. He thought of himself as a man of + responsibility placed in the position of trust. Had he been guilty of a + breach of trust? It seemed remotely unlikely, so cheerful and sparkling + was the sea, that any accident could possibly occur. But with what + feelings could he face a broken and reproachful father should anything + happen and Priscilla be drowned? The blame would justly rest on him. The + fault would be entirely his. + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla,” he said, “I wish we hadn’t come. I ought not to have come + when Uncle Lucius has forbidden you to use this boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Priscilla, “don’t you fret. Father doesn’t really mind a bit. He + only pretends to, has to, you know, on account of Aunt Juliet He knows + jolly well that I can sail the <i>Tortoise</i>, any one could.” + </p> + <p> + Frank could not; but Priscilla’s tone comforted him a little. Yet his + conscience was ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + “But Miss Lentaigne,” he said, “your Aunt Juliet——” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll object, all right, of course,” said Priscilla. “If she knew where + we are this minute she’d be dead, cock sure that we’d be drowned. She’d + probably spend the afternoon planning out nice warm ways of wrapping up + our clammy corpses when she got them back. But she doesn’t know, so that’s + all right.” + </p> + <p> + “She will know, this evening. We shall have to tell her.” + </p> + <p> + On one point Frank was entirely decided. Priscilla should neither lure nor + drive him into any kind of deceit about the expedition. But Priscilla had + no such intention. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll tell her right enough,” she said, “when we get home. She’ll be + pretty mad, of course, inwardly; but she can’t <i>say</i> much on account + of her principles.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see what her principles have to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you? Then you must be rather stupid. Can’t you see that if you + haven’t really got a sprained ankle, but only believe you have, and + wouldn’t have it if you believed you hadn’t, then we shouldn’t really be + drowned, supposing we were drowned, I mean, which, of course, we’re not + going to be—if we believed we weren’t drowned? And Aunt Juliet, with + her principles, would be bound to believe we weren’t, even if we were. + We’ve only got to put it to her that way and she won’t have a ghost of a + grievance left. It’s the simplest form of Christian Science. But in any + case, whatever silliness Aunt Juliet may indulge in, we were simply bound + to have the <i>Tortoise</i> today. It’s a matter of duty. I don’t see how + you can get around that, Cousin Frank, no matter how you argue.” + </p> + <p> + Frank did not want to get behind his duty. He had been brought up with a + very high regard for the word. If it had been clearly shown him that it + was his duty to take an ocean voyage in the <i>Tortoise</i>, with + Priscilla as leader of the expedition, he would have bidden a long + farewell to his friends and gone forth cheerfully. But he did not see that + this particular sail, which seemed, indeed, little better than a + humiliating, though agreeable, act of truancy, could possibly be sheltered + under the name of duty. Priscilla enlightened him. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you don’t know,” she said, “that there is a German spy at the + present moment making a chart of this bay. We are hunting him.” + </p> + <p> + There is something intensely stimulating to every healthy mind in the idea + of hunting a spy. No prefect in the world, no master even, not Mr. Dupré + himself, not the remote divine head-master in the calm Elysium of his + garden, could have escaped a thrill at the mention of such a sport. Frank + was conscious of a sudden relapse from the serenity of the grown man’s + common sense. For an instant he became a normal schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + “Rot!” he said. “What spy?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not rot,” said Priscilla. “You’ve read ‘The Riddle of the Sands,’ I + suppose. You must have. Well, that’s exactly what he’s at, mapping out + mud-banks and things so as to be able to run a masked flotilla of torpedo + boats in and out when the time comes. There was one of the same lot caught + the other day sketching a fortification in Lough Swilly. Father read it to + me out of a newspaper.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had seen a report of that capture. German spies have of late, been + appearing with disquieting frequency. They are met with in the most + unlikely places. Frank was a little shaken in his scepticism. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say there’s a German spy?” he said + </p> + <p> + “I saw him. So did Peter Walsh. So did Joseph Antony Kinsella. You heard + Peter Walsh talking about him this morning. I saw him yesterday. I was + bathing at the time and he ran his boat on a rock off the point of + Delginish. If it hadn’t been for me he’d have been there still, only + drowned, of course, for his boat floated away from him. I wish now that + I’d left him there, but, of course, I didn’t know at the time that he was + a spy. That idea only came to me afterwards. I say, Cousin Frank, wouldn’t + it be absolutely spiffing if it turned out that he really was?” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for any one to deny that such a thing would be spiffing + in the very highest possible degree. + </p> + <p> + “If he is,” said Priscilla, “and I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t—anyhow + it’s jolly good sport to pretend—and if he is, it’s our plain duty + to hunt him down at any risk. Sylvia Courtney says that Wordsworth’s ‘Ode + to Duty’ is quite the most thrillingly impressive poem in the whole + ‘Golden Treasury’ so you won’t want to go back on it.” + </p> + <p> + Frank’s prize had been won for Greek Iambics, not for English literature. + He was not in a position to discuss the value of Wordsworth’s “Ode to + Duty” as a guide to conduct in ordinary life. + </p> + <p> + “My plan,” said Priscilla, “is to begin at the south of the bay and work + across to the north, investigating every island until we light on the one + where he is. That’s the reason I had to take the <i>Tortoise</i>. The <i>Blue + Wanderer</i> wouldn’t have done it for us. She won’t go to windward. But + the <i>Tortoise</i> is a racing boat. Father bought her cheap at Kingstown + because she never won any races, which is the reason why he called her the + <i>Tortoise</i>. But she can sail faster than Flanagan’s old boat, anyhow. + And that’s the one which the spy has got.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was not inclined to discuss the appropriateness of the <i>Tortoise’s</i> + new name. He was just beginning to recover from the feeling of bewildered + annoyance induced by the sudden introduction of Wordsworth’s poem into the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “But what makes you say he’s a spy?” he said. “I know there are spies, and + I saw about the capture of that one in Lough Swilly. But why should this + man be one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say he is,” said Priscilla. “All I say is that until we’ve hunted + him down we can’t possibly be sure that he isn’t. You never can be sure + about anything until you’ve actually tried it. And, anyway, what else can + he be? You can’t deny that there’s some mystery about him. Remember what + Peter Walsh said about his looking as innocent as a child. That’s the way + spies always look. Besides, I don’t think his clothes really belonged to + him. I could see that at a glance. He had a pair of white flannel trousers + with creases down the fronts of the legs, quite as swagger as yours, if + not swaggerer, and a white sweater. He didn’t look a bit comfortable in + them, not as if they were the kind of clothes he was accustomed to wear. + That’s Rossmore head on the left there, Cousin Frank. He’s not there. I + didn’t expect he would be, and he isn’t. I don’t expect he’s in that bay + to the southwest of it either. But we’ll just run in a bit and make sure.” + </p> + <p> + The breeze had freshened a little, and the <i>Tortoise</i> made good way + through the calm water. Frank began to feel some little trust in + Priscilla. She handled the boat with an air of confidence which was + reassuring. His conscience was troubling him less than it did. There is + nothing in the world equal to sailing as a means of quieting anxious + consciences. A man may be suffering mental agonies from the recollection + of some cruel and cold-blooded murder which he happens to have committed. + On land his life would be a burden to him. But let him go down to the sea + in a small white sailed ship, and in forty-eight hours or less, he will + have ceased to feel any remorse for his victim. This may be the reason why + all Protestant nations are maritime powers. Having denied themselves the + orthodox anaesthetic of the confessional, these peoples have been obliged + to take to the sea as a means of preventing their consciences from + harrying them. Driven forth across the waves by the clamorous importunity + of the voice within, they, of very necessity, acquire a certain skill in + the management of boats, a skill which sooner or later leads to the + burdensome possession of a navy and so to maritime importance. It is + interesting to see how this curious law works out in quite modern times. + </p> + <p> + The Italian navy is now considerable, but it has only become so since the + people were driven to the sea as a consequence of the anti-clerical + feeling which led them to desert the confessional. It is quite possible + that the Portuguese, having in their new Republic developed a strong + antipathy to sacraments and so laid up for themselves a future of + spiritual disquiet, may see their ancient maritime glories revived, and in + seeking relief beyond the mouth of the Tagus from the gnawings of their + consciences, may give birth to some reincarnation of Vasco da Gama or + Prince Henry, the Navigator. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think,” said Priscilla, looking round her searchingly, “that he’s + anywhere in this bay. How’s your ankle?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s quite comfortable,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “I asked,” said Priscilla, “because in order to get out of the bay I shall + have to jibe, and that means that you’ve got to hop across the centreboard + case.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had not the least idea of what happens when a small boat jibes. He + intended to ask for information, but was not given any opportunity. The + boom, which had hitherto behaved with dignity and self-possession, + suddenly swung across the boat with such swiftness that he had no time to + duck his head to avoid it. His straw hat, struck on the brim, was swept + over the side of the boat. He found himself thrown down against the + gunwale, while a quantity of cold water poured over his legs. He grasped + the centreboard case, the nearest stable thing at hand, and pulled himself + up again into the middle of the boat. Priscilla, a good deal tangled in a + writhing rope, was struggling past the tiller to the windward side. + </p> + <p> + “What’s happened?” asked Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Jibed all standing,” said Priscilla. “I didn’t mean to, of course. I must + have been sailing her by the lee. But it’s all right. We didn’t ship more + than a bucketful. I say, I’m rather sorry about your hat; but that’s a + rotten kind of hat in a boat anyway. Would you mind getting up to + windward? I’ve got to luff her a bit and she’ll heel over.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it gone?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Oh, the hat. Yes, quite. We couldn’t get it without jibing again.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let us do that,” said Frank, “if we can help it. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t. But do get up to windward. That is to say if your ankle’s not + too bad. I must luff a bit or we’ll go ashore. The water’s getting very + shallow.” + </p> + <p> + Frank scrambled over the centreboard case and bumped down on the floor + boards on the windward side of the boat Priscilla pushed over the tiller + and began to haul vigorously on the main sheet. The <i>Tortoise</i> swept + round, heeled over and rushed through the water on a broad reach. The + wind, so it seemed to Frank, began to blow much harder than before. He + clung to the weather stay and watched the bubbling water tear past within + an inch or two of the lower gunwale. A sudden spasm of extreme nervousness + seized him. He looked anxiously at Priscilla. She seemed to be entirely + calm and self-possessed. His self-respect reasserted itself. He remembered + that she was merely a girl. He set his teeth and determined to show no + sign of fear. Gradually the exhilaration of the motion, the coolness of + the breeze through his hair, the dancing, impulsive rush of the boat, and + the shining white of the sail in front of him conquered his qualms. He + began to enjoy himself as he had never in his life enjoyed himself before. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Priscilla,” he said, “this is fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Topping,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The feel of the cricket ball caught clean in the centre of the bat, sent + in one clear flight to square leg across the boundary line, is glorious. + Frank knew the exultation of such moments. The dash across the goal line + from a swiftly taken pass is a thing to live for. Frank, as a fast + three-quarter back, knew that too. But this tearing of a heeling boat + through bubbling green water became to him, when he got over the first + terror of it, a delirious joy. + </p> + <p> + “That’s Inishminna ahead of us to windward,” said Priscilla. “Flanagan + lives there, who hired him the old boat. He might be there, but he isn’t. + I can see the whole slope of the island. We’ll slip under the lee of the + end of it past Illaunglos. It’s a likely enough island.” + </p> + <p> + Frank suddenly remembered that they were in pursuit of a German spy. The + remainder of his scepticism forsook him. Amid such surroundings, with the + singing of the wind and the gurgling swish of the flying boat in his ears, + any adventure seemed possible. The prosaic limitations of ordinary life + dropped off from him. Only it seemed a pity to find the spy, since finding + him would stop their sailing. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Priscilla,” he said. “Don’t let us bother about the old spy. Let’s + go on sailing.” + </p> + <p> + “Just hunker down a bit,” said Priscilla, “and look under the foot of the + sail. I can’t see to leeward. Is there anything like a tent on that + island?” + </p> + <p> + Frank curled himself into a cramped and difficult attitude. He peered + under the sail and made his report. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing there,” he said, “except three bullocks. But I can only + see two sides of the island.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll open the north side in a minute,” said Priscilla. “He can’t be at + the west end of it, for it is all bluff and boulders. If he isn’t on the + north shore he’s not there at all. + </p> + <p> + Frank twisted himself again into the bottom of the boat, and peeped under + the sail. The north shore of Illaunglos held no tent. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Priscilla. “Well stand on. The next island is Inishark. He may + be there. There’s a well on it, and he’d naturally want to camp somewhere + within reach of water.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, still curled up beside the centreboard case, gazed under the sail + at Inishark. The boat, swaying and dipping in a still freshening breeze, + sped on. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any large white stone on the ridge of the island?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Priscilla. “There isn’t a white stone of any size in the whole + bay. It’s most likely a sheep.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a sheep. Nobody ever saw a sheep with a back that went up into a + point. I believe it’s the top of a tent. Steer for it, Priscilla.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was aglow with excitement. The sailing intoxicated him. The sight of + the triangular apex of the tent put himself beside himself. + </p> + <p> + “Turn the boat, Priscilla. Go down to the island.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla was cooler. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll hold on a minute,” she said, “and make sure. There’s no use running + all that way down to leeward until we’re certain. We’d only have to beat + up again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a tent,” said Frank. “I can see now. There are two tents.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla caught his excitement She knelt on the floor boards, crooked her + elbow over the tiller, leaned over the side of the boat and stared under + the sail at the island. + </p> + <p> + “That’s him,” she said. “Now, Cousin Frank, we’ll have to jibe again to + get down there. Do you think you can be a bit nippier in getting over the + centreboard than you were last time. It’s blowing harder, and it won’t do + to upset. You very nearly had us over before.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was too excited to notice that she now put the whole blame of the + sudden violence of the last jibe on him. Thinking over the matter + afterwards, he remembered that she had apologised at the time for her own + bad steering. Now she wanted to hold his awkwardness responsible for what + might have been a disaster. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said, “All right I’ll do whatever you tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t risk it,” said Priscilla. “You’d mean to do all right, but you + wouldn’t when the time came. That ankle of yours, you know. After all, + it’s just as easy to run her up into the wind and stay her.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a man at the door of one of the tents looking at us through a + pair of glasses,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Let him,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + She was hauling in the main sheet as the boat swept up into the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Cousin Frank, ready about. You must slack off the jib sheet and haul + down the other. That thin rope at your hand. Yes, that’s it.” + </p> + <p> + The meaning of this new manoeuvre was dim and uncertain to Frank. He + grasped the rope indicated to him and then heard a noise as if some one at + the bottom of the sea, an angry mermaid perhaps, was striking the keel of + the boat hard with a hammer. + </p> + <p> + “She’s touching,” said Priscilla. “Up centreboard, quick.” + </p> + <p> + Frank gazed at her in pained bewilderment. He had not the least idea of + what she wanted him to do. The knocking at the boat’s bottom became more + frequent and violent. Priscilla gave the main sheet a turn round a cleat + and stretched forward, holding the tiller with her left hand. She grasped + a rope, one out of a tangled web of wet ropes, and tugged. The knocking + ceased. The boat swept up into the wind. There was a sudden arrest of + movement, a violent list over, a dart forward, a soft crunching sound, and + then a dead stop. + </p> + <p> + “Bother,” said Priscilla, “we’re aground.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang overboard at once, stood knee deep in the water, and tugged at + the stern of the boat The centreboard, when she dropped its rope, fell to + the bottom of its case, caught in the mud under the boat, and anchored her + immovably. Priscilla tugged in vain. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no good,” she said at last, “and the tide’s ebbing. We’re here for + hours and hours. I hope you didn’t hurt your ankle, Cousin Frank, during + that fray.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + “That fellow is still looking at us through his glasses,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t help it,” said Priscilla, “If it amuses him he can go on looking at + us for the next four hours.” + </p> + <p> + She gathered her dripping skirt round her and stepped into the boat + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Courtney,” she said, “told me last term that her favorite poem in + English literature, is ‘Gray’s Elegy’ on account of it’s being so full of + calm. Sometimes I think that Sylvia Courtney is rather a beast.” + </p> + <p> + “She must be a rotter,” said Frank, “if she said that.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, there’s no use our fretting ourselves into a fuss. We can’t + get out of this unless we had the wings of a dove, so we may as well take + the sails off the boat.” + </p> + <p> + She climbed across Frank, loosed the halyard and brought the lug down into + the boat with a sudden run. Frank was buried in the folds of it. After some + struggling he got his head out and breathed freely. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Priscilla,” he said, “why didn’t you tell me you were going to do + that?” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla was gathering the foresail in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you knew,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know the beastly thing was going to come down on my head.” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow on the island,” said Priscilla, “is getting down his tents + and seems to be in a mighty hurry. He’s got a woman helping him. Do you + think she could be a female spy? There are such things. They carry secret + ciphers sewn into their stays and other things of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe they’re spies at all,” said Frank, who was feeling + dishevelled and uncomfortable after his struggle with the sail. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow they seem pretty keen on getting away from Inishark. Just look at + them.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that the people on the island were doing their best to + strike their camp as quickly as possible. In their hurry they stumbled + over guy ropes, got the fly sheet of one of their tents badly tangled + round a packing case, and made the matter worse by trying to free it + without proper consideration. + </p> + <p> + “Let them fuss,” said Priscilla. “We can’t help it if they do get away. If + your ankle isn’t too bad we might as well have lunch. You grub out the + food when I get off my shoes and stockings, I’m a bit damp about the + legs.” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt under the thwart through which the mast was stepped and drew + out one by one the parcel of macaroons, the tongue, the tin of peaches and + the bottles. Priscilla wrung out her stockings over the stern of the boat + and then hung them on the gunwale to dry. She propped her shoes up against + the stern where they would get as much breeze as possible. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” said Frank, “that we’d thought of getting some bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Don’t you like macaroons?” + </p> + <p> + “I like them all right, but they don’t go very well with tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll begin with the tongue, then, and keep the macaroons till + afterwards. Hand it over.” + </p> + <p> + She took a rowlock and shattered the jar which held the tongue. She + succeeded in throwing some of the broken glass overboard. A good deal more + of it stuck in the tongue. + </p> + <p> + “What I generally do,” she said, “when I’m out in the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> + by myself and happen to have a tongue, which isn’t often on account of + their being so beastly expensive—but whenever I have I simply bite + bits off it as I happen to want them. But I know that’s not polite. If you + prefer it, Cousin Frank, you can gouge out a chunk or two with your knife + before I gnaw it.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to Frank a good suggestion. He got out his knife. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia Courtney is always frightfully polite,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + Frank hesitated. The recollection of Sylvia Courtney’s appreciation of + Wordsworth’s “Ode to Duty” and her fondness for “Gray’s Elegy” for the + sake of its calm came to him. He would not be classed with her. He put his + knife back into his pocket and bit a small bit off the tongue. Then he + leaned over the side of the boat and spat out a good deal of broken glass. + He also spat out some blood. + </p> + <p> + “That seems to be rather a glassy bit you’ve got,” said Priscilla. “Are + you cut?” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” said Frank, “but it doesn’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla bit off a large mouthful and handed the tongue back to Frank. + Her cheeks bulged a good deal, but she chewed without any appearance of + discomfort. Frank had read in books about “the call of the wild.” He now, + for the first time, felt the lust for savage life. He took the tongue, + tore off a fragment with his teeth, and discovered as he ate it, that he + was exceedingly hungry. + </p> + <p> + “Your lemonade bottle,” he said, a few minutes later, “has one of those + glass stoppers in it instead of a cork. How shall I open it?” + </p> + <p> + “Shank of a rowlock,” said Priscilla. “Those spies on the island have got + their tents down at last. They’re packing up now.” + </p> + <p> + Frank opened the lemonade bottle and then glanced at the island. The + female spy was packing a holdall. Her companion was staggering down the + beach towards the place where Flanagan’s old boat lay high and dry on her + side. He carried the packing case on his shoulder. Priscilla, tilting her + head back, drank the lemonade from its bottle in large gulps. Then she + opened the parcel of biscuits and munched a macaroon contentedly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s dashed annoying,” said Frank, “having to sit here and watch them + escape, just as we had them cornered too.” + </p> + <p> + The inside of his lip hurt him a good deal while he ate. He wanted to + grumble about something; but the fear of being compared to Sylvia Courtney + kept him silent about the broken glass. Priscilla took another macaroon. + </p> + <p> + “We were doing Wordsworth’s ‘Excursion’ last term,” she said, “in English + literature, and there’s a long tract of it called ‘Despondency Corrected.’ + I wish I had it here now. It’s just what would do you good.” + </p> + <p> + Frank nibbled a biscuit with his eyes on the island. The man was carrying + down a bundle of rugs to the boat. The woman followed him with one of the + tents. Then they went back together to their camping ground and collected + a number of small objects which were scattered about. Frank became + desperate. + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla,” he said, “don’t you think you could wade across to that + island. There’s only about an inch and a half of water round the boat now. + I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for this infernal ankle. I simply can’t + walk.” + </p> + <p> + “I could,” said Priscilla, “and what’s more, I would, only that there’s a + deep channel between us and them. If I’d jibed that time instead of trying + to stay her I should have kept in the channel and not run on to this bank. + I knew it was here all right, but I forgot it just at the moment. That’s + the worst of moments. They simply make one forget things, however hard one + tries not to. I daresay you’ve noticed that.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had as a matter of fact noticed this peculiarity of moments very + often. It had turned up in the course of his experience both on cricket + and football fields. But it seemed to him that the consequences of being + entrapped by it were much more serious in sailing boats than elsewhere. He + was so far from blaming Priscilla for the plight of the <i>Tortoise</i> + that he felt very grateful to her for not blaming him. His moment had come + when she gave him the order about the centreboard. Then not only memory, + but all power of coherent thought had deserted him. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have at the Californian peaches,” said Priscilla. “But we’d better + eat a bit slower now that the first pangs of hunger are allayed. If we + hurry up too much we’ll have no food left soon and we have absolutely + nothing else to do except to eat until five o’clock this afternoon. We + can’t expect to get off before that.” + </p> + <p> + The spies packed their belongings into Flanagan’s old boat and then set to + work to push her down to the sea. Frank, with the point of the opener + driven through the top of the peach tin, paused to watch them. They shoved + and pulled vainly. The boat remained where she was. Frank began to hope + that they, too, might have to wait for the rising tide. They sat down on a + large stone and consulted together. Then they took everything out of the + boat and tried pushing and pulling her again. Her weight was still too + great for them. They moved her forward in short jerks, but each time they + moved her the keel at her stern buried itself deeper in the soft mud. They + sat down, evidently somewhat exhausted, and had another consultation. Then + the man got the oars and laid them out as rollers. He lifted the boat’s + stern on to the first of them. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Priscilla, “that they’d hit on that dodge sooner or + later. Now they’ll get on a bit. Go on scalping the peach tin, Cousin + Frank.” + </p> + <p> + The peaches had been cut in half by the kindly Californian who preserved + them and a half peach fits, with a little squeezing, into any mouth of + ordinary size. Priscilla and Frank fished them out with their fingers and + ate them. Some juice, but considering the circumstances very little, + dripped down the front of Frank’s white flannel coat, the glorious crimson + bound coat of the first eleven. He did not care in the least. He had + lapsed hopelessly. No urchin in the lower school, brewing cocoa over a + form room fire, ladling out condensed milk with the blade of a penknife, + would have been more dead to the decencies of life than this degenerate + hero of the lower sixth. + </p> + <p> + “They’re getting the boat down,” said Priscilla, swallowing a lump of + peach. “Do you think that you could throw stones far enough to hit them + when they get out into the channel? I’d grub up the stones for you. We + might frighten them back that way.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had won second prize in the sports at the end of the Easter term for + throwing the cricket ball. He looked across the stretch of water and + judged the distance carefully. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, regretfully, “I couldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a pity,” said Priscilla, “for I can’t, either. I never could shy + worth tuppence. Curious, isn’t it? Hardly any girls can.” + </p> + <p> + The spies had got old Flanagan’s boat down to the water’s edge. They went + back to the place where she had lain first. By a series of laborious + portages they got all their goods down to the beach and packed them into + the boat. + </p> + <p> + “They’re off now,” said Frank, regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t be too sure,” said Priscilla. “That fellow’s an extraordinary + ass with a boat.” + </p> + <p> + Her optimism was well founded. By shoving hard the spies ran their boat + into the water. The lady spy stopped at the brink. The man, with reckless + indifference to wet feet, followed the boat, still shoving. It happens + that the shore of the north side of Inishark shelves very rapidly into the + deep channel. The boat floated suddenly, and urged by the violence of the + last shove, slid rapidly from the shore. The man grasped at her. His + fingers slid along the gunwale. He plunged forward knee-deep, snatched at + the retreating bow, missed it, stumbled and fell headlong into the water. + The boat floated free and swung into the channel on the tide. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla leaped up excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Now they’re done,” she said. “They’re far worse stuck than we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do look at him,” said Frank, “Did you ever see anything so funny?” + </p> + <p> + The man staggered to his feet and floundered towards the shore, squeezing + the salt water from his eyes with his knuckles. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I’m sorry for the poor beast in a way,” said Priscilla, “but I + can’t help feeling that it jolly well serves him right. Oh, look at them + now!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed convulsively. The scene was sufficiently ridiculous. The spy + stood dripping forlornly, on the shore. The lady dabbed at various parts + of his clothing with her pocket-handkerchief. Flanagan’s old boat, now + fairly in mid-channel, bobbed cheerfully along on the ebbing tide. + </p> + <p> + “I’d give a lot this minute,” said Priscilla, “for a pair of glasses. I + can’t think why I was such a fool as not to take father’s when we were + starting.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see well enough,” said Frank. “What I’d like would be to be able to + hear what he’s saying.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t take any interest in bad language, and in any case I don’t + believe he’s capable of it. He looked to me like the kind of man who + wouldn’t say anything much worse than ‘Dear me.’” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t he? Look at him now. If he isn’t cursing I’ll eat my hat.” + </p> + <p> + The spy had shaken himself free of his companion’s pocket handkerchief. He + was waving his arms violently and shouting so loudly that his voice + reached the <i>Tortoise</i> against the wind. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Priscilla, “that that’s his way of trying to get dry + without catching a chill. Horrid ass, isn’t he? It’d be far better for him + to run. What’s the good of yelling? I expect in reality it’s simply + temper.” + </p> + <p> + But Priscilla underestimated the intelligence of the spy. It appeared very + soon that he was not merely giving expression to emotion, but had a + purpose in his performance. The lady, too, began to shout, shrilly. She + waved her damp pocket handkerchief round and round her head. Priscilla and + Frank turned and saw that another boat, a small black boat, with a very + dilapidated lug sail, had appeared round the corner of the next island, + and was making towards Inishark. + </p> + <p> + “Bother,” said Priscilla, “that man, whoever he is, will bring them back + their boat.” + </p> + <p> + The steersman in the lug-sailed boat altered his course slightly and + reached down towards the derelict. As he neared her he dropped his sail and + got out oars. + </p> + <p> + “That’s young Kinsella,” said Priscilla. “I know him by the red sleeve his + mother sewed into that gray shirt of his. No one else has a shirt the + least like it. He’s a soft-hearted sort of boy who’d do a good turn to any + one. He’s sure to take their boat back to them.” + </p> + <p> + “He has a lady with him,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “He has. I can’t see who she is; but it doesn’t look like his mother. + Can’t be, in fact, for she has a baby to mind. I collared a lot of flannel + out of a box in Aunt Juliet’s room last ‘hols’ and gave it to her for the + baby. It’s a bit of what I gave her that was made into a sleeve for + Jimmy’s shirt. I wonder now who it is he has got with him?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella overtook the drifting boat, took her painter, and began to + tow her towards Inishark. + </p> + <p> + “That lady,” said Priscilla, “is a black stranger to me. Who can she + possibly be?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella rowed hard, and in about ten minutes ran his own boat + aground on Inishark. He disembarked, dragged at the painter of Flanagan’s + boat and handed her over to the lady on the island. A long conversation + followed. The whole party, Jimmy Kinsella, his lady, the dripping spy, and + the original lady with the damp pocket handkerchief, consulted together + eagerly. Then they took the hold-all out of Flanagan’s boat. There was + another conversation, and it became plain that the two ladies were + expostulating with the dripping gentleman. Jimmy Kinsella stood a little + apart and gazed placidly at the two boats. Then the hold-all was unpacked + and a number of garments laid out on the beach. They were sorted out and a + bundle of them handed to the spy. He walked straight up the slope of the + island and disappeared over the crest of the hill. + </p> + <p> + “Gone to change his clothes,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies repacked the hold-all. Jimmy Kinsella stowed it in the bow + of Flanagan’s boat. Then the lady of the island got it out again, unpacked + it once more, and took something out of it. + </p> + <p> + “Clean pocket-handkerchief, I expect,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The guess was evidently a good one, for she spread the wet handkerchief on + a stone. Her companion reappeared over the crest of the island, clad in + another pair of white trousers and another sweater. He carried his wet + garments at arm’s length. Jimmy Kinsella went to meet him. They talked + together as they walked down to the boats. Then the two ladies kissed each + other warmly. Priscilla watched the performance with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Awful rot, that kind of thing,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “All women do it,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + Here at last he was unquestionably Priscilla’s superior. Never, to his + recollection, had he kissed any one except his mother, and he was + generally content to allow her to kiss him. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t; Sylvia Courtney tried it on with me when we were saying good-bye + at the end of last term, but I jolly soon choked her off. Can’t think + where the pleasure is supposed to come in.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella placed the spy lady in the stern of Flanagan’s boat and + handed in her companion. He arranged the oars and the rowlocks and then, + standing ankle deep in the water, shoved her off. The spy took his oars + and pulled away. Priscilla and Frank watched the boat until she + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty rough luck on us,” said Priscilla, “Jimmy Kinsella turning up just + at that moment. I wonder if that woman is a man in disguise. She might be, + you know. They sometimes are.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t possibly. No man would have been such a fool as to go trying to + dry anybody with a pocket handkerchief. Only a woman——” + </p> + <p> + “If it comes to that,” said Priscilla, “no woman would have been such a + fool as to let that boat go the way he did. Girls aren’t the only asses in + the world, Cousin Frank.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Frank, “she evidently took a lot of trouble to persuade + him to change his clothes. That looks as if——” + </p> + <p> + “It does, rather. I daresay she’s his aunt. It’s just the kind of thing + Aunt Juliet would have done before she took to Christian Science. Now, of + course, it would be against her principles. Let’s have another Californian + peach to fill in the time.” + </p> + <p> + Frank handed the tin to her and afterwards helped himself. + </p> + <p> + “Have you drunk all your beer, Cousin Frank?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Want some?” + </p> + <p> + “I was only thinking,” said Priscilla, “that perhaps you’d better not. + I’ve just recollected King John.” + </p> + <p> + “What about him?” + </p> + <p> + “It was peaches and beer that finished him off, after he’d got stuck in + crossing the Wash. That’s rather the sort of position we’re in now, and I + shouldn’t like anything to happen to you.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, by way of demonstrating his courage, took a long draught of lager + beer, then he looked across at Inishark. Priscilla’s eyes followed his. + For a minute or two they gazed in silence. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella’s boat still lay on the shore. Jimmy Kinsella’s lady had + taken off her shoes and stockings and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. + Her skirt was kilted high and folded over a broad band which kept it well + above her knees. Jimmy Kinsella himself, who was modest as well as + chivalrous, sat on a stone with his back to her and gazed at the slope of + the island. The lady waded about in the shallow water. Now and then she + plunged her arms in and appeared to fish something up from the bottom. + Priscilla and Frank looked at each other in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what on earth’s she’s doing,” said Priscilla. “Can she possibly + be taking soundings?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Frank. “Soundings aren’t taken that way. You do it with a line + and a lead from the deck of a ship.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Priscilla, “she’s in league with the other spies. You + saw the way they kissed each other.” + </p> + <p> + “She may,” said Frank, “be taking specimens of the sea bottom. That’s a + very important thing, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, frightfully; but that’s not the way it’s done. There was a curious + old johnny last term who gave us a lecture on hydrography—that’s + what he called it—and he said you gather up small bits of the bottom + by putting tallow on the end of a lump of lead. I expect he knew what he + was talking about, but, of course, he may not. You never can tell about + those scientific lecturers. They keep on contradicting each other so.” + </p> + <p> + “If she’s not doing that, what is she doing?” + </p> + <p> + “She may possibly be trying to cure her rheumatism,” said Priscilla. “They + generally bathe for that; but she may not feel bad enough to go to such + extremes. She looks rather fat. Fat people do have rheumatism, don’t + they?” + </p> + <p> + “No, gout.” + </p> + <p> + “More or less the same thing,” said Priscilla. “Of course, if that’s what + she’s at, she’s not a spy, and we oughtn’t to go on treating her as if she + was. I don’t think it’s right to suspect people of really bad crimes + unless one knows. Do you, Cousin Frank?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. All the same, the way she’s going on is rather queer. + She’s just put something that she picked up into that tin box she has + slung across her back. That doesn’t look to me as if she had gout.” + </p> + <p> + “If only Jimmy Kinsella would turn this way,” said Priscilla, “I’d wave at + him and make him come over here. It’s perfectly maddening being stuck like + this when such a lot of exciting things are going on. What time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “A little after two.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s low water then,” said Priscilla. “From this on the tide will be + coming in again.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> lay on the top of a grey bank from which the water had + entirely receded. Between her and the channel, now a tangle of floating + weed, lay a broad stretch of mud, dotted over with large stones and + patches of gravel. The wind, which had been veering round to the south + since twelve o’clock, had almost entirely died away. The sun shone very + warmly. The <i>Tortoise</i>, lying sadly on her side, afforded no shelter + at all. Both the beer and the lemonade were finished. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla drank some peach juice from the tin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + After wading about for a little more than half an hour, Jimmy Kineslla’s + lady went ashore. She rolled down the sleeves of her blouse and let her + skirt fall about her ankles, but she did not put on her shoes and + stockings. Jimmy Kinsella was summoned from his stone and launched his + boat. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” said Priscilla, “that she thinks her rheumatism ought to be + cured by now. That is to say, of course, if she really has rheumatism, and + isn’t a nefarious spy. I rather like that word nefarious. Don’t you? I + stuck it into an English comp. the other day and spelt it quite right, but + it came back to me with a blue pencil mark under it. Sylvia Courtney said + that I hadn’t used it in quite the ordinary sense. She thinks she knows, + and very likely she does, though not quite as much as she imagines. Nobody + can know everything; which is rather a comfort when it comes to algebra. I + loath algebra and always did. Any right-minded person would, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks to me,” said Frank, “as if they were coming over here.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella was heading his boat straight for the bank on which the <i>Tortoise</i> + lay. In a few minutes she grounded on the edge of it. The lady stepped out + and paddled across the mud towards the <i>Tortoise</i>. Seen at close + quarters she was, without doubt, fat, and had a round good-humoured face. + Her eyes sparkled pleasantly behind a pair of gold rimmed pince-nez. + </p> + <p> + “She is coming over to us,” said Priscilla. “The thing is for you to keep + her in play and unravel her mystery, while I slip off and put a few + straight questions to Jimmy Kinsella. Be as polite as you possibly can so + as to disarm suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla began the course of diplomatic politeness herself. + </p> + <p> + “We’re delighted to see you,” she said. “My name is Priscilla Lentaigne, + and my cousin is Frank Mannix. We’re out for a picnic.” + </p> + <p> + “My name,” said the lady, “is Rutherford, Martha Rutherford. I’m out after + sponges.” + </p> + <p> + “Sponges!” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla winked at him. The statement about the sponges was obviously + untrue. There is no sponge fishery in Rosnacree Bay. There never has been. + Miss Rutherford, so to speak, intercepted Priscilla’s wink. + </p> + <p> + “By sponges,” she said, “I mean——” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you sit down?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + She picked her stockings from the gunwale of the boat, leaving a clear + space beside Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Bother!” she said, “the dye out of the purple clocks has run. That’s the + worst of purple clocks. I half suspected it would at the time, but Sylvia + Courtney insisted on my buying them. She said they looked chic. Would you + care for anything to eat, Miss Rutherford?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m nearly starved. That’s why I came over here. I thought you might have + some food.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve lots,” said Priscilla. “Frank will give it to you. I’ll just step + across and speak to Jimmy Kinsella. I want to hear about the baby.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” said Miss Rutherford, when Priscilla left them, “that your + cousin doesn’t believe me about the sponges.” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt deeply ashamed of Priscilla’s behaviour. The prefect in him + reasserted itself now that he was in the presence of a grown-up lady. He + felt it necessary to apologise. + </p> + <p> + “She’s very young,” he said, “and I’m afraid she’s rather foolish. Little + girls of that age——” + </p> + <p> + He intended to say something of a paternal kind, something which would + give Miss Rutherford the impression that he had kindly undertaken the care + of Priscilla during the day in order to oblige those ordinarily + responsible for her. A curious smile, which began to form at the corners + of Miss Rutherford’s lips and a sudden twinkling of her eyes, stopped him + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you’ll excuse my not standing up,” he said, “I’ve sprained my + ankle.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to get in and sit beside you if I may,” said Miss Rutherford. + “Now for the food.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s some cold tongue,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Capital. I love cold tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “But—I’m afraid—” He fished it out from beneath the thwart, “—it + may be rather grubby.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind that a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “And—the fact is my cousin—it’s only fair to tell you—she + bit it pretty nearly all over and——” Frank hesitated. He was + an honourable boy. Even at the cost of losing Miss Rutherford’s respect he + would not refrain from telling the truth, “And I bit it too,” he blurted + out. + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose I may,” said Miss Rutherford. “I should like to more than + anything. I so seldom get the chance.” + </p> + <p> + She bit and munched heartily; bit again, and smiled at Frank. He began to + feel more at his ease. + </p> + <p> + “There are some biscuits,” he said. “The macaroons are finished, I’m + afraid. But there are some cocoanut creams. I’m afraid they’re rather too + sweet to go well with tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “In the state of starvation I’m in,” she said, “marmalade would go with + pea soup. Cocoanut creams and tongue will be simply delicious. Have you + anything to drink?” + </p> + <p> + “Only the juice of the tinned peaches.” + </p> + <p> + “Peach juice,” said Miss Rutherford, “is nectar. Do I drink it out of the + tin or must I pour it into the palm of my hand and lap?” + </p> + <p> + “Any way you like,” said Frank. “I believe there’s a bailer somewhere if + you prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer the tin, if it doesn’t shock you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Frank, “nothing shocks me.” + </p> + <p> + This was very nearly true. It had not been true a week before; but a day + on the sea with Priscilla had done a great deal for Frank. Miss Rutherford + threw her head back, tilted the peach tin, and quaffed a satisfying + draught. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” she said, “that you were just as sceptical as your cousin + was about my sponges.” + </p> + <p> + “I was rather surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. You were thinking of bath sponges and naked Indians plunging + over the side of their boats with large stones in their hands to sink + them. But I’m not after bath sponges. I’m doing the zoophytes for the + natural history survey of this district.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Frank vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “They brought me over from the British Museum because I’m supposed to know + something about the zoophytes. I ought to, for I don’t know anything + else.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be most interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Last week I did the fresh water lakes and got some very good results. + Professor Wilder and his wife are doing rotifers. They’re stopping——” + </p> + <p> + “In tents?” said Frank with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Tents! No. In quite the sweetest cottage you ever saw. I sleep on a sofa + in the porch. What put tents into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it wasn’t Professor Wilder and his wife whose boat you rescued just + now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no. I don’t know who those people are at all. I never saw them + before. Miss Benson is doing the lichens, and Mr. Farringdon the moths. + They’re the only other members of our party here at present, and I’m the + only one out on the bay.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was conscious of a sense of relief. It would have been a + disappointment to him if the German spies had turned out to be harmless + botanists or entomologists. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella was sitting in front of his boat gazing placidly at the sea + when Priscilla tapped him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here, Jimmy?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Is that yourself, Miss?” said Jimmy, eyeing her quietly. + </p> + <p> + “It is. And the only other person present is you. Now we’ve got that + settled.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was the <i>Tortoise</i> when I saw her; but I said to myself + ‘There’s strangers on board of her, for Miss Priscilla would know better + than to run her aground on the bank when the tide would be leaving her.’” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t told me yet,” said Priscilla, “what you’re doing here.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m out along with the lady beyond.” + </p> + <p> + “I could see that much for myself. What’s she doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Without she’d be trying the salt water for the good of her health, I + don’t know what she’s doing.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought at first that it might be that,” said Priscilla. “Has she any + sponges with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I seen, Miss. But sure none of them would take a sponge with + them into the sea. They get plenty of it without that.” + </p> + <p> + “I just thought she hadn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “If I was to be put on my oath,” said Jimmy slowly, “and was to be asked + what I thought of her——” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what I am asking you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d say she was a high up lady; may be one of them ones that does be + waiting on the Queen, or the wife of the Lord Lieutenant or such.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “The skin of her.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy’s eyes which had been fixed on the remote horizon focussed + themselves slowly for nearer objects. His glance settled finally on + Priscilla’s bare feet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “when she took off her shoes and stockings?” + </p> + <p> + “Saving your presence, Miss, the legs of her doesn’t look as if she was + accustomed to going about that way.” + </p> + <p> + “And that’s all you know about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Herself and a gentleman that was along with her settled with my da + yesterday for the use of the boat, the way I’d row her anywhere she’d a + fancy to go.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the gentleman who has Flanagan’s old boat, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not then, but a different gentleman altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can leave him out,” said Priscilla, “and tell me all you know + about the other couple, the ones who lost their boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Them ones,” said Jimmy, “has no sense, no more than a baby would have. + Did you hear what they’re after paying Flanagan for that old boat of his?” + </p> + <p> + “Four pounds a week.” + </p> + <p> + “You’d think,” said Jimmy, “that when they’d no more care for their money + than to be throwing it away that way they’d be able to afford to pay for a + roof over their heads and not to be sleeping on the bare ground with no + more than a cotton rag to shelter them. It was last Friday they came in to + Inishbawn looking mighty near as if they’d had enough of it. ‘Is there any + objection,’ says he, ‘to our camping on this island?’ ‘We’ll pay you,’ + says the lady, ‘anything in reason for the use of the land.’ My da was + terrible sorry for them, for he could see well that they weren’t ones that + was used to hardship; but he told them that it would be better for them + not.” + </p> + <p> + “On account of the rats?” + </p> + <p> + “Rats! What rats?” + </p> + <p> + “The rats that have the island very nearly eaten,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Sorra the rat ever I saw on Inishbawn, only one that came out in the boat + one day along with a sack of yellow meal my da was bringing home from the + quay; and I killed it myself with the slap of a loy.” + </p> + <p> + “I just thought Peter Walsh was telling me a lie about the rats,” said + Priscilla. “But if it wasn’t rats will you tell me why your father + wouldn’t let them camp on Inishbawn?” + </p> + <p> + “He said it would be better for them not,” said Jimmy, “on account of + there being fever on it, for fear they might catch it and maybe die.” + </p> + <p> + “What fever?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t rightly know the name of it; but sure my ma is covered thick with + yellow spots the size of a sixpence or bigger; and the young lads is + worse. The cries of them at night would make you turn round on your bed + pitying them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect me to believe all that?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Three times my da was in for the doctor,” said Jimmy, “and the third time + he fetched out a powerful fine bottle that he bought in Brannigan’s, but + it was no more use to them than water. Is it likely now that he’d allow a + strange lady and a gentleman to come to the island, and them not knowing? + He wouldn’t do it for a hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “If you’re going on talking that kind of way there’s not much use my + asking you any more questions. But I’d like very much to know where those + camping people are now.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Jimmy, “but they’re drowned. The planks of that + old boat of Flanagan’s is opened so as you could see the daylight in + between every one of them, and it would take a man with a can to be + bailing the whole time you’d be going anywhere in her; let alone that the + gentleman——” + </p> + <p> + “I know what the gentleman is in a boat,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “And herself is no better. It was only this morning my ma was saying to me + that it’s wonderful the little sense them ones has.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Priscilla, “that your mother was out all over yellow + spots. What does she know about them?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella grinned sheepishly. + </p> + <p> + “Believe you me, Miss,” he said, “if it was only yourself that was in it——” + </p> + <p> + “There’d be neither rats nor fever on the island, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy looked towards the <i>Tortoise</i> and let his eyes rest with an + inquiring expression on Frank Mannix. + </p> + <p> + “That gentleman’s ankle is sprained,” said Priscilla, “so whatever it is + that you have on your island, you needn’t be afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “That might be,” said Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell your father from me,” said Priscilla, “that the next time + I’m out this way I’ll land on Inish-bawn and see for myself what it is + that has you all telling lies.” + </p> + <p> + “Any time you come, Miss, you’ll be welcome. It’s a poor place we have, + surely, but it would be a queer thing if we wouldn’t give you the best of + what might be going. But I don’t know how it is. There’s a powerful lot of + strangers knocking around, people that might be decent or might not.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were still fixed on Frank Mannix when Priscilla left him. + </p> + <p> + The tide was flowing strongly and the water began to cover the lower parts + of the bank. Priscilla measured with her eye the distance between the <i>Tortoise</i> + and the sea. She calculated that she might get off in about an hour. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the <i>Tortoise</i> she found Frank pressing the last + half peach on their guest. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rutherford,” said Priscilla, “have you landed on Inishbawn, that + island to the west of you, behind the corner of Illaunglos?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “I wanted to, but the boy who’s rowing me strongly advised + me not to.” + </p> + <p> + “Rats?” Said Priscilla, “or fever?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford seemed puzzled by the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “What I mean,” said Priscilla, “is this: did he give you any reason for + not landing on the island?” + </p> + <p> + “As well as I recollect,” said Miss Rutherford, “he said something to the + effect that it wasn’t a suitable island for ladies. I didn’t take much + notice of what he said, for it didn’t matter to me where I landed. One of + the islands is the same thing as another. In fact Inishbawn, if that’s its + name, doesn’t look a very good place for sponges.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you still stick to those sponges?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rutherford,” said Frank, “is collecting zoophytes for the British + Museum.” + </p> + <p> + “Investigating and tabulating,” said Miss Rutherford, “for the Royal + Dublin Society’s Natural History Survey.” + </p> + <p> + “I took up elementary science last term,” said Priscilla, “but we didn’t + do about those things of yours. I daresay we’ll get on to them next year. + If we do I’ll write to you for the names of some of the rarer kinds and + score off Miss Pennycolt with them. She’s the science teacher, and she + thinks she knows a lot. It’ll do her good to be made to look small over a + sponge that she’s never seen before, or even heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll send them to you,” said Miss Rutherford. “I take the greatest + delight in scoring off science teachers everywhere. I was taught science + myself at one time and I know exactly what it’s like.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella sat on a stone with his back to the party in the <i>Tortoise</i>. + An instinct for good manners is the natural inheritance of all Irishmen. + The peasant has it as surely as the peer, generally indeed more surely, + for the peer, having mixed more with men of other nations, loses something + of his natural delicacy of feeling. When, as in the case of young + Kinsella, the Irishman has much to do with the sea his courtesy reaches a + high degree of refinement. As the advancing tide crept inch by inch over + the mudbank Jimmy Kinsella was forced back towards the <i>Tortoise</i>. He + moved from stone to stone, dragging his boat after him as the water + floated her. Never once did he look round or make any attempt to attract + the attention of Miss Rutherford. He would no doubt have retreated + uncomplaining to the highest point of the bank and sat there till the + water reached his waist, clinging to the painter of the boat, rather than + disturb the conversation of the lady whom he had taken under his care. But + his courtesy was put to no such extreme test. He made a move at last which + brought him within a few feet of the <i>Tortoise</i>. A mere patch of + sea-soaked mud remained uncovered. The water, advancing from the far side + of the bank, already lapped against the bows of the <i>Tortoise</i>. Miss + Rutherford woke up to the fact that the time for catching sponges was + past. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” she said, “that I ought to be getting home. I can’t tell you + how much obliged to you I am for feeding me. I believe I should have + fainted if it hadn’t been for that tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a pleasure to us,” said Priscilla. “We’d eaten all we could before + you came.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid,” said Frank politely, “that it wasn’t very nice. We ought to + have had knives and forks or at least a tumbler to drink out of. I don’t + know what you must think of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of you!” said Miss Rutherford. “I think you’re the two nicest + children I ever met.” + </p> + <p> + She stumped off and joined Jimmy Kinsella. Priscilla saw her putting on + her shoes and stockings as the boat rowed away. She shouted a farewell. + Miss Rutherford waved a stocking in reply. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Priscilla, turning to Frank, “what do you think of that? The + two nicest children! I don’t mind of course; but I do call it rather rough + on you after talking so grand and having on your best first eleven coat + and all.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Frank learned several things while the sails were being hoisted. The word + halyard became familiar to him and connected itself definitely with + certain ropes. He discovered that a sheet is, oddly enough, not an expanse + of canvas, but another rope. He impressed carefully on his mind the part + of the boat in which he might, under favourable circumstances, expect to + find the centreboard tackle. + </p> + <p> + The wind, which had dropped completely at low water, sprang up again, this + time from the west, with the rising tide. This was pleasant and promised a + fair run home, but Priscilla eyed the sky suspiciously. She was + weather-wise. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll die clean away,” she said, “towards evening. It always does on this + kind of day when it has worked round with the sun. Curious things winds + are, Cousin Frank, aren’t they? Rather like ices in some ways, I always + think.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had considerable experience of ices, and had been obliged, while + playing various games, to take some notice of the wind from time to time; + but he missed the point of Priscilla’s comparison. She explained herself. + </p> + <p> + “If you put in a good spoonful at once,” she said, “it gives you a pain in + some tooth or other and you don’t enjoy it. On the other hand, if you put + in a very little bit it gets melted away before you’re able to taste it + properly. That’s just the way the wind behaves when you’re out sailing. + Either it has you clinging on to the main sheet for all you’re worth or + else it dies away and leaves you flapping. It’s only about once a month + that you get just what you want.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Frank, when the boat got under way, that they had happened on + the one propitious day. The <i>Tortoise</i> slipped pleasantly along, her + sails well filled, the boom pressed forward against the shroud, the main + sheet an attenuated coil at Priscilla’s feet. + </p> + <p> + “I’m feeling a bit bothered,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “We ought to have been back for luncheon,” said Frank. “I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not luncheon that’s bothering me; although it’s quite likely that we + won’t be back for dinner either. What I can’t quite make up my mind about + is what we ought to do next about those spies.” + </p> + <p> + “Go after them again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all well enough; but things are much more mixed up than that. In + some ways I rather wish we had Sylvia Courtney with us. She’s president of + our Browning Society and tremendously good at every kind of complication. + What I feel is that we’re rather like those boys in the poem who went out + to catch a hare and came on a lion unaware. I haven’t got the passage + quite right but you probably know it.” + </p> + <p> + Frank did. He could not, since English literature is still only fitfully + studied in public schools, have named the author. But he quoted the lines + with fluent confidence. It was by turning them into Greek Iambics that he + had won the head-master’s prize. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Priscilla. “And that’s more or less what has happened to + us. We went out to chase a simple, ordinary German spy and we have come on + two other mysteries of the most repulsively fascinating kind. First + there’s Miss Rutherford, if that’s her real name, who says she’s fishing + for sponges, which is certainly a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about it’s being a lie,” said Frank. “She explained it to me + after you’d gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that about zoophytes. You don’t believe that surely?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Frank. “There are lots of queer things in the British Museum. + I was there once.” + </p> + <p> + “My own belief is,” said Priscilla, “that she simply trotted out those + zoophyte things and the British Museum when she found that we weren’t + inclined to swallow the ordinary sponge. At the same time I can’t believe + that she’s a criminal of any kind. She struck me as being an uncommonly + good sort. The wind’s dropping. I told you it would. Very soon now we + shall have to row. Can you row, Cousin Frank?” + </p> + <p> + Frank replied with cheerful confidence that he could. He had sat at + Priscilla’s feet all day and bowed to her superior knowledge of sailing. + When it came to rowing he was sure that he could hold his own. He + understood the phraseology of the art, had learned to take advantage of + sliding seats, could keep his back straight and had been praised by a + member of a University eight for his swing. + </p> + <p> + “The other mystery,” said Priscilla, “is Inishbawn. The Kinsellas won’t + let the spies land on the island. They won’t let Miss Rutherford. They + won’t let you, They tell every kind of ridiculous story to head people + off.” + </p> + <p> + The thought of his prowess as an oarsman had restored Frank’s + self-respect. He recollected the reason given by Jimmy Kinsella for not + allowing Miss Rutherford to land on Inishbawn. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see anything ridiculous about it,” he said. “Young Kinsella + simply said that it wasn’t a suitable place for ladies. There are lots of + places we men go to where we wouldn’t take———-” + </p> + <p> + His sentence tailed away. Priscilla’s eyes expressed an amount of + amusement which made him feel singularly uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “That,” she said, “is the most utter rot I’ve ever heard in my life. And + in any case, even if it was true, it wouldn’t apply to us. Jimmy Kinsella + distinctly said that I might land on the island as much as I like, but + that he jolly well wouldn’t have you. We may just as well row now as later + on. The breeze is completely gone.” + </p> + <p> + She got out the oars and dropped the rowlocks into their holes. She pulled + stroke oar herself. Frank settled himself on the seat behind her. He found + himself in a position of extreme discomfort. The <i>Tortoise</i> was + designed and built to be a sailing boat. It was not originally + contemplated that she should be rowed far or rowed fast. When Frank leaned + back at the end of his stroke he bumped against the mast. When he swung + forward in the proper way he hit Priscilla between the shoulders with his + knuckles. When the boat shot forward the boom swung inboard. If this + happened at the end of a stroke Frank was hit on the shoulder. If it + happened at the beginning of a stroke the spar struck him on the ear. + However he shifted his position he was unable to avoid sitting on some + rope. The centreboard case was between his legs and when he tried to get + his injured foot against anything firm he found it entangled in ropes + which he could not kick away. Priscilla complained. + </p> + <p> + “Put a little more beef into it, Cousin Frank,” she said. “I’m pulling her + head round all the time.” + </p> + <p> + Frank put all the energy he could into a series of short jerky strokes, + using the muscles of his arms, failing altogether to get the weight of his + body on the oar. At the end of twenty minutes Priscilla gave him a rest. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no use our killing ourselves,” she said. “The tide’s under us. + It’s a jolly lucky thing it is. If it was the other way we wouldn’t get + home to-night. I wonder now whether the Kinsellas think you’ve any + connection with the police. You don’t look it in the least, but you never + can tell what people will think. If they do mistake you for anything of + the sort it might account for their not wanting you to land on Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know why exactly—not yet. But there often are things + knocking about which it wouldn’t at all do for the police to see. That + might happen anywhere. There’s an air of wind coming up behind us. Just + get in that oar of yours. We may as well take the good of what’s going.” + </p> + <p> + A faint ripple on the surface of the water approached the <i>Tortoise</i>. + Before it reached her the boom swung forward, lifting the dripping main + sheet from the water, and the boat slipped on. + </p> + <p> + “But of course,” said Priscilla, “that idea of your being a policeman in + disguise doesn’t account for their telling Miss Rutherford that there was + something on the island which it wouldn’t be nice for a lady to see. And + it doesn’t account for the swine-fever story that Joseph Antony Kinsella + told the spies.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing much. Only that his wife and children had come out all over + in bright yellow spots.” + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps they have.” + </p> + <p> + “Not they. You might just as well believe in Peter Walsh’s rats. That + leaves us with three different mysteries on hand.” Priscilla hooked her + elbow over the tiller and ticked off the three mysteries on the fingers of + her right hand. “The sponge lady, whose name may be Miss Rutherford, one. + Inishbawn Island, that’s two. The original spies, which makes three. I’m + afraid we’ll have to row again. Do you think you can, Cousin Frank?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be offended. I only meant that you mightn’t be able to on account + of your ankle. How is your ankle?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right,” said Frank, “That is to say it’s just the same.” + </p> + <p> + No other favouring breeze rippled the surface of the bay. For rather more + than an hour, with occasional intervals for rest, Frank tugged at his oar, + bumped his back, and was struck on the side of the head by the boom. He + was very much exhausted when the <i>Tortoise</i> was at length brought + alongside the slip at the end of the quay. Priscilla still seemed fresh + and vigorous. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Frank, “if we could hire a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Dozens,” said Priscilla, “if you want them... What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To wheel that bath-chair. I can’t walk, you know. And I don’t like to + think of your pushing me up the hill. You must be tired.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Priscilla, “is what I call real politeness. There are lots of + other kinds of politeness which aren’t worth tuppence. But that kind is + rather nice. It makes me feel quite grown up. All the same I’ll wheel you + home.” + </p> + <p> + She pushed the bath-chair up the hill from the village without any obvious + effort. At the gate of the avenue she stopped. Two small children were + playing just inside it. A rather larger child set on the doorstep of the + gate lodge with a baby on her knee. + </p> + <p> + “What time is it, Cousin Frank?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “It’s ten minutes past seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Susan Ann, where’s your mother?” + </p> + <p> + The girl with the baby on her knee struggled to her feet and answered: + </p> + <p> + “She’s up at the house beyond, Miss.” + </p> + <p> + “I just thought she must be,” said Priscilla, “when I saw William Thomas + and the other boy playing there, and you nursing the baby. If your mother + wasn’t up at the house you’d all be in your beds.” + </p> + <p> + She wheeled the bath-chair on until she turned the corner of the avenue + and was lost to the sight of the children who peered after her. Then she + paused. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Frank,” she said, “it’s just as well for you to be prepared for + some kind of fuss when we get home.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re awfully late, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not that. It’s something far worse. The fuss that’s going on up + there at the present moment is a thunderstorm compared to what there would + be over our being late.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know there’s a fuss?” + </p> + <p> + “Before she was married,” said Priscilla, “Mrs. Geraghty—that’s the + woman at the gate lodge, the mother of those four children—was our + upper housemaid. Aunt Juliet simply loved her. She rubs her into all the + other servants day and night. She says she was the only sufficient + housemaid. I’m not sure that that’s quite the right word. It may be + efficient. Any how she says she’s the only something-or-other-ficient + housemaid she ever had; which of course is a grand thing for Mrs. + Geraghty, though not really as nice as it seems, because whenever anything + perfectly appalling happens Aunt Juliet sends for her. Then she and Aunt + Juliet rag the other servants until things get smoothed out again. The + minute I saw those children sporting about when by rights they ought to be + in bed I knew that Mrs. Geraghty had been sent for. Now you understand the + sort of thing you have to expect when we get home. I thought I’d just warn + you, so that you wouldn’t be taken by surprise.” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt that he still might be taken by surprise and urged Priscilla to + give him some further details about the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll find out soon enough,” said Priscilla. “At least we may. If it’s + the kind of thing that’s visible, streams of water running down the front + stairs or anything like that, we’ll see for ourselves, but if it happens + to be a more inward sort of disaster which we can’t see—and that’s + the kind there’s always the worst fuss about—then it may take us + some time to find out. Aunt Juliet doesn’t think it’s good for children to + know about inward disasters, and so she never talks of them when I’m there + except in what she calls French, and not much of that because Father can’t + understand her. They may, of course, confide in you. It all depends on + whether they think you’re a child or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> know that, of course. And Aunt Juliet saw you in your evening + coat last night at dinner, so she oughtn’t to. But you never can tell + about things of that kind. Look at the sponge lady for instance. She said + you were the nicest child she ever saw. Still they may tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Frank did not like being reminded of Miss Rutherford’s remark. Priscilla’s + repetition of it goaded him to a reply which he immediately afterwards + felt to be unworthy. + </p> + <p> + “If they do tell me,” he said, “I won’t tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ll be a mean, low beast,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + Frank pulled himself together with an effort. He realised that it would + never do to bandy schoolboy repartee with Priscilla. His loss of dignity + would be complete. And besides, he was very likely to get the worst of the + encounter. He was out of practise. Prefects do not descend to + personalities. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Priscilla,” he said, “I only meant that I wouldn’t tell you if it + was the sort of thing a girl oughtn’t to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Like what Jimmy Kinsella has on Inishbawn,” said Priscilla. “Do you know, + Cousin Frank, you’re quite too funny for words when you go in for being + grand. Now would you like me to wheel you up to the hall-door and ring the + bell, or would you rather we sneaked round through the shrubbery into the + yard, and got in by the gunroom door and so up the back stairs?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “The back way would be the wisest,” said Priscilla, “but in the state of + grandeur you’re in now——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do drop it, Priscilla.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to keep it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go by the back door.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you promise to tell me all about it, supposing they tell you, and they + may? You can never be sure what they’ll do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I promise.” + </p> + <p> + “A faithful, solemn oath?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether it’s the sort of thing a girl ought to be told or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Only do go on. It’ll take me hours to dress, and we’re awfully late + already.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla trotted briskly through the shrubbery, crossed the yard and + helped Frank out of the chair at the gunroom door. She gave him her arm + while he hobbled up the back stairs. At the top of the first flight she + deserted him suddenly. She darted forward, half opened a baize covered + swing door and peeped through. + </p> + <p> + “I just thought I heard them at it,” she said. “Mrs. Geraghty and the two + housemaids are rioting in the long gallery, dragging the furniture about + and, generally speaking, playing old hokey. That gives us a certain amount + of information, Cousin Frank.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + ROSNACREE HOUSE was built early in the 19th century by the Lentaigne of + that day, one Sir Francis. At the beginning of that century the Irish + gentry were still an aristocracy. They ruled, and had among their number + men who were gentlemen of the grand style, capable of virile passions and + striking deeds, incapable, constitutionally and by training, of the + prudent foresight of careful tradesmen. Lord Thormanby, who rejoiced in a + brand new Union peerage and was a wealthy man, kept race horses. Sir + Francis, who, except for the Union peerage, was as big a man as Lord + Thormanby, kept race horses too. Lord Thormanby bought a family coach of + remarkable proportions. Sir Francis ordered a duplicate of it from the + same coach-builder. Lord Thormanby employed an Italian architect to build + him a house. Sir Francis sought out the same architect and gave him orders + to build another house, identical with Lord Thormanby’s in design, but + having each room two feet longer, two feet higher and two feet broader + than the corresponding room at Thormanby Park. The architect, after + talking a good deal about proportions in a way which Sir Francis did not + understand, accepted the commission and erected Rosnacree House. + </p> + <p> + The two additional cubic feet made all the difference. Lord Thormanby’s + fortune survived the building operations. Lord Francis Lentaigne’s estate + was crippled. + </p> + <p> + His successors struggled with a burden of mortgages and a mansion + considerably too large for their requirements. Sir Lucius, when his turn + came, shut up the great gallery, which ran the whole length of the second + storey of the house, and lived with a tolerable amount of elbow room in + five downstairs sitting rooms and fourteen bedrooms. Miss Lentaigne made + occasional raids on the gallery in order to see that the fine + old-fashioned furniture did not rot. Neither she nor her brother thought + of using the room. + </p> + <p> + For Frank Mannix the white tie which is worn in the evening was still + something of a novelty and therefore a difficulty. He was struggling with + it, convinced of the great importance of having the two sides of its bow + symmetrical, when Priscilla tapped at his bedroom door. In response to his + invitation to enter she opened the door half way and put her head and + shoulders into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d just tell you as I was passing,” she said, “that it’s all + right about your ankle.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, who had just re-bandaged the injured limb, asked her what she + meant. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen Aunt Juliet,” she said, “and I find that she’s quite dropped + Christian Science and is frightfully keen on Woman’s Suffrage. That’s + always the way with her. When she’s done with a thing she simply hoofs it + without a word of apology to anyone. It was the same with the uric acid. + She’d talk of nothing else in the morning and before night it was withered + like the flower of the field upon the housetop, ‘whereof the mower filleth + not his arm.’ I expect you know the sort I mean.” + </p> + <p> + She shut the door and Frank heard her running down the passage. A couple + of minutes later he heard her running back again. This time she opened the + door without tapping. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think,” she said, “what Woman’s Suffrage can possibly have to do + with the big gallery, but they must be mixed up somehow or Mrs. Geraghty + and the housemaids wouldn’t be sporting about the way they are. They’re at + it still. I’ve just looked in at them.” + </p> + <p> + During dinner the conversation was very largely political. Sir Lucius + inveighed with great bitterness against the government’s policy in + Ireland. Now and then he recollected that Frank’s father was a supporter + of the government. Then he made such excuses for the Cabinet’s blundering + as he could. Miss Lentaigne also condemned the government, though less for + its incurable habit for truckling to the forces of disorder in Ireland, + than for its cowardly and treacherous treatment of women. She made no + attempt to spare Frank’s feelings. Indeed, she pointed many of her remarks + by uncomplimentary references to Lord Torrington, Secretary of State for + War, and the immediate chief of Mr. Edward Mannix, M.P. Lord Torrington, + so the public understood, was the most dogged and determined opponent of + the enfranchisement of women. He absolutely refused to receive deputations + of ladies and had more than once said publicly that he was in entire + agreement with a statement attributed to the German Emperor, by which the + energies of women were confined to babies, baking and bazaars for church + purposes. Miss Lentaigne scorched this sentiment with invective, and used + language about Lord Torrington which was terrific. Her abandonment of the + cause of Christian Science appeared to be as complete as the most + enthusiastic general practitioner could desire. Frank was exceedingly + uncomfortable. Priscilla was demure and silent. + </p> + <p> + When Miss Lentaigne, followed by Priscilla, left the room, Sir Lucius + became confidential and friendly. He pushed the decanter of port towards + Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Fill up your glass, my boy,” he said. “After your long day on the sea—— + By the way I hope your aunt—I keep forgetting that she’s not your + aunt—I hope she didn’t say anything at dinner to hurt your feelings. + You mustn’t mind, you know. We’re all rather hot about politics in this + country. Have to be with the way these infernal Leagues and things are + going on. You don’t understand, of course, Frank. Nor does your father. If + he did he wouldn’t vote with that gang. Your aunt—I mean to say my + sister is—well, you saw for yourself. She usedn’t to be, you know. + It’s only quite lately that she’s taken the subject up. And there’s + something in it. I can’t deny that there’s something in it. She’s a clever + woman. There’s always something in what she says. Though she pushes things + too far sometimes. So does Torrington, it appears. Only he pushes them the + other way. I think he goes too far, quite too far. Of course, my sister + does too, in the opposite direction.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, Uncle Lucius,” said Frank. “I don’t mind a bit. I’m not + well enough up in these things to answer Miss Lentaigne. If father was + here——” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? Is your father coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Frank. “He’s in Schlangenbad.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course. By the way, your father’s pretty intimate with + Torrington, isn’t he? The Secretary of State for War.” + </p> + <p> + “My father’s under-secretary of the War Office,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what sort of a man is Torrington? He’s a distant cousin of mine. My + great aunt was his grandmother or something of that sort. But I only met + him once, years ago. Apart from politics now, I don’t profess to admire + his politics—I never did. How men like your father and Torrington + can mix themselves up with that damned socialist crew—But apart from + politics, what sort of a man is Torrington?” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw him,” said Frank. “I’ve been at school, you know, Uncle + Lucius.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, quite so. But your father now. Your father must know him + intimately. I know he’s rich, immensely rich. American mother, American + wife, dollars to burn, which makes it all the harder to understand his + politics. But his private life—what does your father think of him? + </p> + <p> + “Last time father stopped there,” said Frank, “he was called in the + morning by a footman who asked him whether he’d have tea, coffee or + chocolate. Father said tea. ‘Assam, Oolong, or Sooching, sir,’ said the + footman, ‘or do you prefer your tea with a flavour of Orange Pekoe?’” + </p> + <p> + “By gad!” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the only story I’ve ever heard father tell about him,” said Frank, + “but they say——” + </p> + <p> + “That he has the devil of a temper.” said Sir Lucius, “and rides roughshod + over every one? I’ve been told that.” + </p> + <p> + “Father never said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right. He wouldn’t, couldn’t in fact. It wouldn’t be the thing at + all. The fact is, Frank, that Torrington’s coming here tomorrow, wired + from Dublin to say so. He and Lady Torrington. I can’t imagine what he + wants here. I’d call it damned insolence in any one else, knowing what I + must think of his rascally politics, what every decent man thinks of them. + But of course he’s a kind of cousin. I suppose he recollected that. And + he’s a pretty big pot. Those fellows invite themselves, like royalty. But + I don’t know what the devil to do with him, and your aunt’s greatly upset. + She says it’s against her principles to be decently civil to a man who’s + treated women the way Torrington has.” + </p> + <p> + “If the women had let him alone——” said Frank, “I know. I + know. One of them boxed his ears or something, pretty girl, too, I hear; + but that only makes it worse. That sort of thing would get any man’s back + up. But your aunt—that is to say, my sister—doesn’t see that. + That’s the worst of strong principles. You never can see when your own + side is in the wrong. But it makes it infernally awkward Torrington’s + coming here just now. And Lady Torrington! It upsets us all. I wonder what + the devil he’s coming here for?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Frank. “Could he be studying the Irish question? + Isn’t there some Home Rule Bill or something? Father said next year would + be an Irish year.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it. That must be it. Now I wonder who he expects me to have to + dinner to meet him. There’s no use my wiring to Thormanby to come over for + the night. He wouldn’t do it. Simply loathes the name of Torrington. + Besides, I don’t suppose Thormanby is the kind of man he wants to meet. + He’d probably rather hear Brannigan or some one of that sort talking + damned Nationalism. But I can’t ask Brannigan, really can’t, you know, + Frank. I might have O’Hara, that’s the doctor. I don’t suppose my sister + would mind now. She quite dropped Christian Science as soon as she heard + Torrington was coming. But I don’t know. O’Hara drinks a bit.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius sat much longer than usual in the dining-room. Frank found + himself yawning with uncontrollable frequency. The long day on the sea had + made him very sleepy. He did his best to disguise his condition from his + uncle, but he felt that his answers to the later questions about Lord + Torrington were vague, and he became more and more confused about Sir + Lucius’ views of Woman Suffrage. One thing alone became clear to him. Sir + Lucius was not anxious to join his sister in the drawingroom. Frank + entirely shared his feeling. + </p> + <p> + But in this twentieth century it is impossible for gentlemen to spend the + whole evening in the dining-room. Wine drinking is no longer recognised as + a valid excuse for the separation of the sexes and tobacco is so + universally tolerated that men carry their cigarettes into the drawingroom + on all but the most ceremonial occasions. Sir Lucius rose at last. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very hot,” said Frank. “May I sit out for a while on the terrace, + Uncle Lucius, before I go into the drawingroom. I’d like a breath of fresh + air.” + </p> + <p> + He hobbled out and found a hammock chair not far from the drawingroom + window. The voices of Miss Lentaigne and his uncle reached him, the one + high-pitched and firm, the other, as he imagined, apologetic and + deprecatory. The sound of them, the words being indistinguishable, was + somewhat soothing. Frank felt as the poet Lucretius did when from the + security of a sheltered nook on the side of a cliff he watched boats + tossing on the sea. The sense of neighbouring strain and struggle added to + the completeness of his own repose. A bed of mignonette scented the air + agreeably. Some white roses glimmered faintly in the twilight. Far off, a + grey still shadow, lay the bay. Frank’s cigarette dropped, half smoked, + from his fingers. He slept deliciously. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later he woke with a start. Priscilla stood over him. She was + wrapt from her neck to her feet in a pale blue dressing-gown. Her hair + hung down her back in a tight plait. On her feet were a pair of well worn + bedroom slippers. The big toe of her right foot had pushed its way through + the end of one of them. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Cousin Frank, are you awake? I’ve been here for hours, dropping + small stones on your head, so as to rouse you up. I daren’t make any + noise, for they’re still jawing away inside and I was afraid they’d hear + me. Could you struggle along a bit further away from the window? I’ll + carry your chair.” + </p> + <p> + They found a nook behind the rose-bed which Priscilla held to be perfectly + safe. Frank settled down on his chair. Priscilla, with her knees pulled up + to her chin, sat on a cushion at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Juliet hunted me off to bed at half-past nine,” she said. “Dastardly + tyranny! And she sent Mrs. Geraghty to do my hair—not that she cared + if my hair was never done, but so as to make sure that I really undressed. + Plucky lot of good that was!” + </p> + <p> + The precaution had evidently been of no use at all; but neither Miss + Lentaigne nor Mrs. Geraghty could have calculated on Priscilla’s roaming + about the grounds in her dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + “The reason of the tyranny,” said Priscilla, “was plain enough. Aunt + Juliet was smoking a cigarette.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” said Frank. “I should never have thought your aunt + smoked.” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn’t. She never did before, though she may take to it regularly + now for a time. I simply told her that she oughtn’t to chew the end. No + real smoker does; and I could see that she didn’t like the wads of tobacco + coming off on her tongue. Besides, it was beastly waste of the cigarette. + She chawed off quite as much as she smoked. You’d have thought she’d have + been obliged to me for giving her the tip, but quite the contrary. She + hoofed me off to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has made her take to smoking?” + </p> + <p> + “She had to,” said Priscilla. “I don’t think she really likes it, but with + her principles she simply had to. It’s part of what’s called the economic + independence of women and she wants to dare the Prime Minister to put her + in gaol. I don’t suppose he will, at least not unless she does something + worse than that; but that’s what she hopes. You know, of course, that the + Prime Minister is coming tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not the Prime Minister,” said Frank, “only Lord Torrington.” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll be a frightful disappointment to Aunt Juliet after sending down + to Brannigan’s for those cigarettes. Rose—she’s the under housemaid—told + me that. Beastly cigarettes they are, too. Rose said the footman said <i>he</i> + wouldn’t smoke them. Ten a penny or something like that. But if Lord + Torrington isn’t the Prime Minister what is Aunt Juliet doing out the long + gallery?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington is rather a boss,” said Frank, “though he’s not the Prime + Minister. He’s the head of the War Office.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla whistled. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott,” she said, “the head of the War Office! And Aunt Juliet + hasn’t the least idea what’s bringing him down here. She said so twice.” + </p> + <p> + “So did Uncle Lucius. He kept wondering after dinner what on earth Lord + Torrington wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “But we know,” said Priscilla. “This is what I call real sport. I have her + jolly well scored off now for sending me to bed. I shouldn’t wonder if + they made you a knight. It’s pretty well the least they can do.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about? I don’t know what’s bringing him here unless + it’s something to do with Home Rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Who cares about Home Rule? What he’s coming for is the spies. Didn’t you + say that this Torrington man is the head of the War Office? What would + bring him down here if it isn’t German spies? And we’re the only two + people who know where those spies are. Even we don’t quite know; but we + will tomorrow. Just fancy Aunt Juliet’s face when we march them up here in + the afternoon, tied hand and foot with the anchor rope, and hand them over + to the War Office. We shall be publicly thanked, of course, besides your + knighthood, and our names will be in all the papers. Then if Aunt Juliet + dares to tell me ever again to go to bed at half past nine I shall simply + grin like a dog and run about through the city. She won’t like that. + You’re quite, sure, Cousin Frank, that it really is the War Office man + who’s coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Lucius told me it was Lord Torrington, and I know he’s the head of + the War Office because my father’s the under-secretary.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, then. I was just thinking that it would be perfectly + awful if we captured the spies and it turned out that he wasn’t the man + who was after them.” + </p> + <p> + “He may not be after them,” said Frank. “It doesn’t seem to me a bit + likely that he is. You see, Priscilla, my father has a lot to do with the + War Office and I know he rather laughs at this spy business.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s probably to disguise his feelings. Spies are always kept dead + secrets and if possible not let into the newspapers. Perhaps even your + father hasn’t been told. He doesn’t appear to be head boss, and they + mightn’t mention it to him. That’s what makes it such an absolutely + gorgeous scoop for us. We’ll get off as early as we can tomorrow. You + couldn’t start before breakfast, could you? The tide will be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I could, of course, if you don’t mind wheeling me down again in that + bath-chair.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a little bit. I’ll get hold of Rose before I go to bed, and tell her + to call us. Rose is the only one in the house I can really depend on. She + hates Aunt Juliet like poison ever since that time she had the bad tooth. + We can pick up some biscuits and things at Brannigan’s as we pass. There’s + a good chunk of cold salmon somewhere, for we only ate quite a small bit + at dinner tonight. I’ll nail it if I can keep awake till the cook’s in bed, + but I don’t know can I. This kind of excitement makes me frightfully + sleepy. I suppose it’s what’s called reaction. Sylvia Courtney had it + terribly after the English literature prize exam. It was headaches with + her and general snappishness of temper. Sleepiness is worse in some ways, + though not so bad for the other people. However, I’ll do the best I can, + and if we don’t get the cold salmon we’ll just have to do without.” + </p> + <p> + She rose from her cushion, stretched herself and yawned unrestrainedly. + Then she rubbed both eyes with her knuckles. + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla,” said Frank, “before you go I wish you’d tell me——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe those two people we saw today are German spies?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, really and truly in the inmost bottom of my heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t, of course. It would be too good to be true if they were. + But I mean to go on pretending. Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I’ll pretend. I only wanted to know what you thought.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Priscilla, “they did rather scoot when they saw we + were after them. Nobody can deny that. That may be because they’re + pretending, too. I daresay they find it pretty dull being stuck on an + island all day, though, of course, it must be rather jolly cooking your + own food and washing up plates in the sea. Still they may be tired of that + now, and glad enough to pretend to be German spies with us pursuing them. + It must be just as good sport for them trying to escape as it is for us + trying to catch them. I daresay it’s even better, being stalked + unwaveringly by a subtle foe ought to give them a delicious creepy feeling + down the back. Anyhow we’ll track them down. We’re much better out of this + house tomorrow. It’ll be like the tents of Kedar. You and I might be + labouring for peace, but everybody else will be making ready for battle. + Aunt Juliet will be out for blood the moment she catches sight of the + Prime Minister. Good night, Cousin Frank.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Rose, the under housemaid, with the recollection of the scientifically + Christian method of treating her toothache fresh in her mind and therefore + stimulated by a strong desire to annoy Miss Lentaigne, woke at five a.m. + At half past five she called Priscilla and knocked at Frank’s door. + Priscilla was fully dressed ten minutes later. Frank appeared in the yard + at five minutes to six. They started as the stable clock struck six, + Priscilla wheeling the bath-chair. Rose yawning widely, watched them from + the scullery window. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla had failed to seize the cold salmon the night before. Rose, + foraging early in the morning, with the fear of the cook before her eyes, + had secured nothing but half a loaf of bread and a square section of + honey. It was therefore something of a disappointment to find that + Brannigan’s shop was not open when they reached the quay. No biscuits or + tinned meats could be bought. Many adventurers would have been daunted by + the prospect of a long day’s work with such slender provision. It is + recorded, for instance, of Julius Caesar, surely the most eminent + adventurer of all history, that he hesitated to attempt an expedition + against one of the tribes of Gaul “propter inopiam pecuniae,” which may + very well be translated “on account of a shortage of provisions.” But + Julius Caesar, at the period of his greatest conquests, was a middle-aged + man. He had lost the first careless rapture of youth. Frank and Priscilla, + because their combined ages only amounted to thirty-two years, were more + daring than Caesar. With a fine faith in the providence which feeds + adventurers, they scorned the wisdom which looks dubiously at bread and + honey. They did not hesitate at all. + </p> + <p> + The tide was still rising when they embarked. At that hour in the morning + there was no wind and it was necessary to row the <i>Tortoise</i> out. + Priscilla took both oars herself, remembering the gyrations of the boat + the day before when Frank was helping her to row. + </p> + <p> + “There’ll be a breeze,” she said, “when the tide turns, but we can’t + afford to wait here for that. When we’re outside the stone perch we’ll + drop anchor. But the first thing is to set pursuit at defiance by getting + beyond the reach of the human voice. If we can’t hear whoever happens to + be calling us we can’t be expected to turn back and it won’t be + disobedience if we don’t.” + </p> + <p> + The tide, with an hour more of flow behind it, crept along the grey quay + wall, and eddied past the buoys. Two hookers lay moored, and faint spirals + of smoke rose from the stove chimneys of their forecastles. Thin wreaths + of grey mist hung here and there over the still surface of the bay. + Patches of purple slime lay unbroken on the unrippled surface. Scraps of + shrivelled rack, sucked off the shores of the nearer islands, floated past + the <i>Tortoise</i>. A cormorant, balanced on the top of one of the + perches outside Delginish, sat with wings outstretched and neck craned + forward, peering out to sea. A fleet of terns floated motionless on the + water beyond the island. Two gulls with lazy flappings of their wings, + flew westwards down the bay. Priscilla, rowing with short, decisive + strokes, drove the <i>Tortoise</i> forward. + </p> + <p> + “It’s going to be blazing hot,” she said, “and altogether splendidly + glorious. I feel rather like a dove that is covered with silver wings and + her feathers like gold. Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Frank did. Although he would not have expressed himself in the words of + the Psalmist, he recognised them. The most reliable tenor in the choir at + Haileybury is necessarily familiar with the Psalms. + </p> + <p> + They reached the stone perch and cast anchor. It was half past seven + o’clock. Priscilla got out the bread and honey. + </p> + <p> + “The proper thing to do,” she said, “would be to go on half rations at + once, and serve out the bread by ounces and the honey by teaspoonfuls, but + I think we won’t. I’m as hungry as any wolf.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Frank, “we haven’t got a teaspoon.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope your knife is to the fore. I’m not particular as a rule about the + way I eat things, but there’s no use beginning the day by making the whole + boat sticky. I loathe stickiness, especially when I happen to sit on it, + which is one of the reasons which makes me glad I wasn’t born a bee. They + have to, of course, poor things, even the queen, I believe. It can’t be + pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + The tug of the boat at her anchor rope slackened as the tide reached its + height. A light easterly wind came to them from the land. Priscilla + swallowed the last morsel of bread and honey as the <i>Tortoise</i> + drifted over her anchor and swung round. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, “you’d like to practise steering, Cousin Dick. If so, + creep aft and take the tiller. I’ll get the sail on her and haul up the + anchor.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, humbled by the experience of the day before, was doubtful. + Priscilla encouraged him. He took the tiller with nervous joy. Priscilla + hoisted the lug and then the foresail. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, “I’ll get up the anchor and we’ll try to go off on the + starboard tack. If we don’t we’ll have to jibe immediately. With this much + wind it won’t matter, but you might not like the sensation.” + </p> + <p> + Frank did not want to enjoy any sensation of a sudden kind and jibing, as + he understood it, was always unexpected. He asked which way he ought to + push the tiller so as to make sure of reaching the starboard tack. + Priscilla stood beside the mast and delivered a long, very confusing + lecture on the effect of the rudder on the boat and the advantage of + hauling down one or other of the foresail sheets when getting under way + from anchor. Frank did not understand much of what she said, but was + ashamed to ask for more information. Priscilla, on her knees under the + foresail, tugged at the anchor rope. The <i>Tortoise</i> quivered + slightly, but did not move. Priscilla, leaning well back, tugged harder. + The <i>Tortoise</i>—it is impossible to speak of a boat except as a + live thing with a capricious will—shook herself irritably. + </p> + <p> + “She’s slap over the anchor,” said Priscilla. “I can’t think how she gets + there for there’s plenty of rope out; but there she is and I can’t move + the beastly thing. Perhaps you’ll try. You may be stronger than I am. I + expect it has got stuck somehow behind a rock.” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt confident that he was stronger in the arms than Priscilla. He + crept forward and put his whole strength into a pull on the anchor rope. + The <i>Tortoise</i> twisted herself broadside on to the breeze and then + listed over to windward. Priscilla looked round her in amazement. The + breeze was certainly very light, but it was contrary to her whole + experience that a boat with sails set should heel over towards the wind. + She told Frank to stop pulling. The <i>Tortoise</i> slowly righted herself + and then drifted back to her natural position, head to wind. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing I can think of,” said Priscilla, “is that the anchor rope + has got round the centreboard. It might. You never can tell exactly what + an anchor rope will do. However, if it has, we’ve nothing to do but haul + up the centreboard and clear it.” + </p> + <p> + She took the centreboard rope and pulled. Frank joined her and they both + pulled. The centreboard remained immovable. The <i>Tortoise</i> was + entirely unaffected by their pulling. + </p> + <p> + “Jammed,” said Priscilla. “I feel a jolly sight less like that dove than I + did. It looks rather as if we were going to spend the day here. I don’t + want to cut the rope and lose the anchor if I can possibly help it, but of + course it may come to that in the end, though even then I’m not sure that + we’ll get clear.” + </p> + <p> + “Can we do nothing?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Priscilla, “is a case for prolonged and cool-headed + reasoning. You reason your best and I’ll bring all the resources of my + mind to bear on the problem!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down in the bottom of the boat and gazed thoughtfully at the stone + perch. Frank, to whom the nature of the problem was obscure, also gazed at + the stone perch, but without much hope of finding inspiration. Priscilla + looked round suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “We might try poking at it with the blade of an oar,” she said. “I don’t + think it will be much use, but there’s no harm trying.” + </p> + <p> + The poking was a total failure, and Priscilla, reaching far out to thrust + the oar well under the keel of the boat, very nearly fell overboard. Frank + caught her by the skirt at the last moment and hauled her back. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll have to sit down and think again,” she said. “By the way, what was + that word which Euclid said when he suddenly found out how to construct an + isosceles triangle? He was in his bath at the time, as well as I + recollect.” + </p> + <p> + A man is not in the lower sixth at Haileybury without possessing a good + working knowledge of the chief events of classical antiquity. Frank rose + to his opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Are you thinking of Archimedes?” he asked. “What he said was ‘Eureka’ and + what he found out wasn’t anything about triangles but—” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Priscilla. “It doesn’t really matter whether it was Euclid + or not and it isn’t of the least importance what he found out. It was the + word I wanted. Let’s agree that whichever of us Eureka’s it first stands + up and shouts the word far across the sea. You’ve no objection to that, I + suppose. The idea may stimulate our imaginations.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had no objection. He felt tolerably certain that he would not have + to shout. Priscilla, frowning heavily, fixed her eyes on the stone perch, + A few minutes later she spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” she said, “I was riding my bicycle in father’s mackintosh, which + naturally was a little long for me. In process of time the tail of it got + wound round and round the back wheel and I was regularly stuck, couldn’t + move hand or foot and had to lie on my side with the bicycle on top of me. + That seems to me very much the way we are now with that anchor rope and + the centreboard.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get out?” said Frank hopefully. + </p> + <p> + That Priscilla had got out was evident. If her position on the bicycle was + really analogous to that of the <i>Tortoise</i> the same plan of escape + might perhaps be tried. + </p> + <p> + “I lay there,” said Priscilla, “until Peter Walsh happened to come along + the road. He kind of unwound me.” + </p> + <p> + A boat, heavily laden, was rowing slowly towards them, making very little + way against the gathering strength of the ebb tide and the easterly wind. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Frank, “the people in that boat, if it ever gets here, + will unwind us.” + </p> + <p> + The boat drew nearer and Priscilla declared that it was Kinsella’s. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Joseph Antony himself rowing her,” she said. “He’d be getting on + faster if he had Jimmy along with him, but I suppose he’s off with the + sponge lady again.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsella reached the <i>Tortoise</i> and stopped rowing. + </p> + <p> + “You’re out for a sail again today, Miss?” he said. “Well, it’s fine + weather for the likes of you.” + </p> + <p> + “At the present moment,” said Priscilla, “we’re stuck and can’t get out.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me that now? And what’s the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “The anchor rope is foul of the centreboard and we can’t get either the + one or the other of them to move.” + </p> + <p> + “Begor!” said Joseph Antony. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any way of getting it clear?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, trot it out.” + </p> + <p> + “If you was to take the oars,” said Joseph Antony, “and was to row the + boat round the way she wasn’t going when she twisted the rope on you it + would come untwisted again.” + </p> + <p> + “It would, of course. Thank you very much. Rather stupid of us not to have + thought of that. It seems quite simple. But that’s always the way. The + simplest things are far the hardest to think of. Columbus and the egg, for + instance.” + </p> + <p> + She got out the oars as she spoke and began turning the <i>Tortoise</i> + round. + </p> + <p> + “Begging your pardon, Miss,” said Joseph Antony, “but which way is the + rope twisted round the plate? If you row her round the wrong way you’ll + twist it worse than ever.” + </p> + <p> + But luck favored Priscilla. When the <i>Tortoise</i> had made one circle + the rope shook itself clear. Joseph Antony, dipping his oars gently in the + water, drew close alongside. + </p> + <p> + “I’d be sorry now,” he said, “if it was to Inishbawn you were thinking of + going. Herself and the children is away off. I’d have been afraid to leave + them there with myself up at the quay with a load of gravel.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla looked at him with a smile of complete scepticism. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not gravel you have there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a curious thing,” said Joseph Antony in an offended tone, “for you + to be saying the like of that and the boat up to the seats with gravel + before your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t deny there’s gravel on top,” said Priscilla, “but there’s + something else underneath.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony urged his boat further from the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, at all?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you’ve got,” said Priscilla, “but I saw the rim of some + sort of a wooden tub sticking out of the gravel in the fore part of the + boat.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony began to row vigorously towards the quay. Priscilla hailed + him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this now,” she said, “Why did you take Mrs. Kinsella and the + children off their island? Was it for fear of the rats?” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony lay on his oars. + </p> + <p> + “It was not rats,” he said. “Why would it?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it for change of air after the fever?” + </p> + <p> + “Fever! What fever?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it because there was something on the island that it wouldn’t be nice + for Mrs. Kinsella or any other woman to see?” + </p> + <p> + “It was because of a young heifer,” said Joseph Antony, “that I was after + buying at the fair of Rosnacree ere yesterday, the wickedest one I ever + seen. She had her horn druv through Jimmy’s leg and pretty nearly trampled + the life out of the baby before she was an hour on the island. If so be + that you want to be scattered about, an arm here and a leg there, as soon + as you set foot on the shore you can go to Inish-bawn, you and the young + gentleman along with you. But if it’s pleasure you’re looking for it would + be better for you to go somewhere else for it, the two of yez.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke truculently. It was evident that Priscilla’s questioning had + seriously annoyed him. He began to row again while he was speaking and was + out of earshot before Priscilla could reply. She waved her hand to him + gaily. + </p> + <p> + The trouble with the anchor rope had delayed the start of the <i>Tortoise</i>. + It was eleven o’clock before she got under way. Frank had the tiller. + Priscilla, seated in the fore part of the boat, gave him instruction in + the art of steering. Running before a light breeze makes no high demand + upon the helmsman’s skill. Frank learned to keep the boat’s head steady on + her course and realised how small a motion of his hand produced a + considerable effect. The time came when the course had to be altered. + Priscilla, bent above all on discovering the new camping-ground of the + spies, kept in the main channel. There comes a place where this turns + northwards. Frank had to push down the tiller in order to bring the boat + on her new course. He began to understand the meaning of what he did. The + island of Inishrua lay under his lee. Priscilla scanned its slope for the + sight of a tent. Frank, now beginning to enjoy his position thoroughly, + let the boat away, eased off his sheet and ran down the passage between + Inishrua and Knockilaun, the next island to the northward. Cattle browsed + peacefully in the fields. A dog rushed from a cottage door and barked. Two + children came down to the shore and gazed at the boat curiously. There was + no encampment on either island. + </p> + <p> + Frank pressed down the tiller and hauled in his sheet. Priscilla insisted + on his working the main sheet himself. He did it awkwardly and slowly, + having only one hand and some fingers of the other, which held the tiller. + Then he had his first experience of the joy of beating a small boat + against the wind. The passage between the islands is narrow and the tacks + were necessarily very short. Frank made all the mistakes common to + beginners, sailing at one moment many points off the wind, at the next + trying to sail with the luff of his lug and perhaps his foresail flapping + piteously. But he learned how to stay the boat and became fascinated in + guessing the point on the land which he might hope to reach at the end of + each tack. Priscilla kept him from becoming over proud. She showed him, + each time the boat went about, the spot which with reasonably good + steering he ought to have reached. It was always many yards to windward. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the passage the boat stood on the starboard tack towards a + small round island which lay to the east of Inishrua. + </p> + <p> + “That’s Inishgorm,” said Priscilla. “I don’t see how they can possibly be + there, for there’s not a place on it to pitch a tent except the extreme + top of the island. But we may as well have a look at it.” + </p> + <p> + Inishgorm ends on the west in a rocky promontory. The <i>Tortoise</i> + passed it and then Frank stayed her again. The next tack brought them into + a little bay with deep, clear water. They stood right on until they were + within a few yards of the land. Terns, anxious for the safety of their + chicks, rose with shrill cries, circled round the boat, swooping sometimes + within a few feet of the sail and then soaring again. Their excitement + died away and their cries got fewer when the boat went about and stood + away from the island. Priscilla pointed out a long low reef which lay + under their lee. Round-backed rocks stood clear of the water at intervals. + Elsewhere brown sea wrack was plainly visible just awash. On one of the + rocks two seals lay basking in the sun. At the point of the reef a curious + patch of sharply rippled water marked where two tides met. A long tack + brought the <i>Tortoise</i> clear of the windward end of the reef. Frank + paid out the main sheet and let the boat away for another run down a + passage between the reef and a series of small flat islands. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Priscilla, “is the likeliest place we’ve been today. I + shouldn’t wonder a bit if we came on them here.” + </p> + <p> + The navigation seemed to Frank bewilderingly intricate. Small bays opened + among the islands. Rocks obtruded themselves in unexpected places. It was + never possible to keep a straight course for more than a couple of minutes + at a time. Priscilla gave order in quick succession, “Luff her a little,” + “Let her away now,” “Hold on as you’re going,” “Steady,” “Don’t let her + away any more.” Now and then she threatened him with the possibility of a + jibe. Frank, becoming accustomed to everything else, still dreaded that + manoeuvre. + </p> + <p> + A loud hail reached them from the narrow mouth of a bay to windward of + them. Priscilla looked round. The hail was repeated. Far up on the + northern shore of the bay lay a boat, half in, half out of the water. + Beyond her stern, knee deep in the water, with kilted skirts, stood a + woman shouting wildly and waving a pocket handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the sponge lady,” said Priscilla. “Luff, luff her all you can. We’ll + go in there and see what she wants.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> slanted up into the wind. Her sails flapped and filled + again. Frank pulled manfully on the sheet. There were two short tacks, + swift changes of position, slacking and hauling in of sheets. Then Frank + found himself, once more on the starboard tack, standing straight for the + lady who waved and shouted to them. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a gravelly shore,” said Priscilla. “We’ll beach her. Sail her easy + now, Cousin Frank, and slack away your main sheet if you find there’s too + much way on her. We don’t want to knock a hole in her bottom. Keep her + just to windward of Jimmy Kinsella’s boat.” + </p> + <p> + The orders were too numerous and too complicated. Frank could keep his + head on the football field while hostile forwards charged down on him, + could run, kick or pass at such a crisis without setting his nerves + a-quiver. He lost all power of reasoning when the <i>Tortoise</i> sprang + towards Jimmy Kinsella’s boat and the gravelly shore. He had judged with + absolute accuracy the flight of the ball which the Uppingham captain drove + hard and high into the long field. As it left the bat he had started to + run, had calculated the curve of its fall, had gauged the pace of his own + running, had arrived to receive it in his outstretched hands. He failed + altogether in calculating the speed of the <i>Tortoise</i>. He suddenly + forgot which way to push the tiller in order to attain the result he + desired. A wild cry from Priscilla confused him more than ever. He was + dimly aware of a sudden check in the motion of the boat. He saw Priscilla + start up, and then the lady, who a moment before was standing in the sea, + precipitated herself head first over the bow. At the same moment the <i>Tortoise</i> + grounded on the gravel with a sharp grinding sound. Frank looked about him + amazed. Jimmy Kinsella, standing on the shore with his hands in his + pockets, spoke slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Bedamn,” he said, “but I never seen the like. With the whole of the wide + sea for you to choose out of was there no place that would do you except + just the one place where the lady happened to be standing?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Priscilla’s reproaches were sharper and less broadly philosophic in tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you luff when I told you?” she said. “Didn’t I say you were to + keep up to windward of Jimmy Kinsella’s boat? If you couldn’t do that why + hadn’t you the sense to let out the main sheet? If we hadn’t run into the + sponge lady we’d have stripped the copper band off our keel. As it is, I + expect she’s dead. She hit her head a most frightful crack against the + mast.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford was lying on her stomach across the fore part of the + gunwale of the <i>Tortoise</i>. Her head was close to the mast. She was + groping about with her hands in the bottom of the boat. The lower part of + her body, which was temporarily, owing to her position, the upper part, + was outside the boat. Her feet beat the air with futile vigour. She + wriggled convulsively and after a time her legs followed her head and + shoulders into the boat. She rose on her knees, very red in the face, a + good deal dishevelled, but laughing heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not a bit dead,” she said, “but I expect my hair’s coming down.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Priscilla. “I don’t believe you have a hairpin left unless + one or two have been driven into your skull. Are you much hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Miss Rutherford. “Is your mast all right? I hit it + rather hard.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla looked at the mast critically and stroked the part hit by Miss + Rutherford’s head to find out if it was bruised or cracked. + </p> + <p> + “I’m most awfully sorry,” said Frank. “I don’t know how I came to be such + a fool. I lost my head completely. I put the tiller the wrong way. I can’t + imagine how it all happened.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think,” said Miss Rutherford, “that I ever had an invitation to + luncheon accepted quite so heartily before. You actually rushed into my + arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you inviting us to lunch?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been inviting you at the top of my voice,” said Miss Rutherford, + “for nearly a quarter of an hour. I’m so glad you’ve come in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “We couldn’t hear what you were saying,” said Priscilla. “All we knew was + that you were shouting at us. If we’d known it was an invitation——” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t have come any quicker if you’d heard every word,” said Miss + Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “I’m frightfully sorry,” said Frank again. “I can’t tell you——” + </p> + <p> + “If I’d known it was luncheon,” said Priscilla, “I’d have steered myself + and run no risks. We haven’t a thing to eat in our boat and I’m getting + weak with hunger.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford stepped overboard again. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” she said, “we’re going to have the grandest picnic ever was, I + went down to the village yesterday evening after I got home and bought + another tin of Californian peaches.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know you’d meet us?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “I hoped for the best. I felt sure I’d meet you tomorrow if I didn’t + today. I should have dragged the peaches about with me until I did. + Nothing would have induced me to open the tin by myself. I’ve also got two + kinds of dessicated soup and—— + </p> + <p> + “Penny-packers?” said Priscilla. “I know the look of them, but I never + bought one on account of the difficulty of cooking. I don’t believe they’d + be a bit good dry.” + </p> + <p> + “But I’ve borrowed Professor Wilder’s Primus stove,” said Miss Rutherford, + “and I’ve got two cups and an enamelled mug to drink it out of.” + </p> + <p> + “We could have managed with the peach tin,” said Priscilla, “after we’d + finished the peaches. I hate luxury. But, of course, it’s awfully good of + you to think of the cups.” + </p> + <p> + “I hesitated about suggesting that we should take turns at the tin,” said + Miss Rutherford. “I knew you wouldn’t mind, but I wasn’t quite sure——” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’d have been all right,” said Priscilla. “I’m training him in.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve also got a pound and a half of peppermint creams,” said Miss + Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “My favourite sweet,” said Priscilla. “You got them at Brannigan’s, I + hope. He keeps a particularly fine kind, very strong. You have a delicious + chilly feeling on your tongue when you draw in your breath after eating + them. But Brannigan’s is the only place where you get them really good.” + </p> + <p> + “I forget the name of the shop, but I think it must have been Brannigan’s. + The man advised me to buy them the moment he heard you were to be of the + party. He evidently knew your tastes. Then—I’m almost ashamed to + confess it after what you said about luxury; but after all you needn’t eat + it unless you like—— + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Priscilla. “Not milk chocolate, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “No. A loaf of bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bread’s all right. It’ll go capitally with the soup. Frank was + clamouring for bread yesterday, weren’t you, Cousin Frank? If there’s any + over after the soup we can make it into tipsy cake with the juice of the + peaches. That’s the way tipsy cake is made, except for the sherry, which + always rather spoils it, I think, on account of the burny taste it gives. + That and the whipped cream, which, of course, is rather good though + considered to be unwholesome. But you can’t have things like that out + boating.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” said Miss Rutherford, “we’ll start the Primus stove, and while + the water is boiling we’ll eat a few of the peppermint creams as <i>hors + d’oeuvres</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla jumped from the bow of the boat to the shore. “Jimmy Kinsella,” + she said, “go and help Mr. Mannix out of the boat. He’s got a sprained + ankle and can’t walk. Then you can take our anchor ashore and shove out + the boat. She’ll lie off all right if you haul down the jib. Miss + Rutherford and I will go and light the Primus stove. I’ve always wanted to + see a Primus stove, but I never have except in a Stores List and then, of + course, it wasn’t working.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” said Miss Rutherford. “I have it all ready in a sheltered nook + under the bank at the top of the beach.” + </p> + <p> + She took Priscilla’s hand and began to run across the seaweed towards the + grass. Half way up Priscilla stopped abruptly and looked round. Jimmy + Kinsella had his arm round Frank and was helping him out of the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Jimmy!” said Priscilla. “I’d better come back and give you a hand. + You’ll hardly be able to do that job by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, of course,” said Jimmy. “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t,” said Priscilla, “on account of the + hole in your leg.” + </p> + <p> + “What hole?” + </p> + <p> + “The hole your father’s new heifer made when she drove her horn through + your leg,” said Priscilla. “I suppose there is a hole. There must be if + the horn went clean through. It can’t have closed up again yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Jimmy. “Did ever I meet a young lady as fond of the + funning as yourself, Miss. Many’s the time my da did be saying that the + like of Miss Priscilla——” + </p> + <p> + “Your da, as you call him,” said Priscilla, “says a deal more than his + prayers.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me about the hole in Jimmy’s leg,” said Miss Rutherford. “He + never mentioned it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor wouldn’t,” said Priscilla, “because it’s like the rats and the + spotted fever and the bad smell, or what ever it was he told you. It’s + simply not there.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford lit the methylated spirits in the upper part of the Primus + stove. Priscilla pumped up the paraffin with enthusiasm. The water was put + on to boil. Then Priscilla asked for the packets of desiccated soup. + </p> + <p> + “I find,” she said, “that it’s a capital plan to read the directions for + use before you actually do the thing, whatever it is. Last term I spoiled + a whole packet of printing paper—photographic, you know—by not + doing that. I read them afterwards and found out exactly where I’d gone + wrong, which was interesting, of course, but not much real use. Sylvia + Courtney rather rubbed it in. That’s the sort of girl she is.” + </p> + <p> + “A most disagreeable sort,” said Miss Rutherford. “I have met some like + her. In fact they’re rather common.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t say disagreeable. In fact I rather love Sylvia Courtney at + times. But she has her faults. We all have, which in some ways is rather a + good thing. If there weren’t any faults it would be so dull for people + like Aunt Juliet. You’re not a Ministering Child, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Are you? I expect you must be.” + </p> + <p> + “I was once. Sylvia Courtney brought me to the meeting. We all had to do + some sewing and afterwards there was tea. I joined, of course. The sub. + was only sixpence, and there was always tea, with cake, though not good + cake. Afterwards I found that I’d sworn a most solemn oath always to do a + kind act to some one every day. That’s the sort of way you get let in at + those meetings.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t read the directions for use beforehand that time.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But in the end it turned out all right. It was just before the hols + when it happened, so, of course, Aunt Juliet had to be my principal + victim. I wouldn’t do kind acts to Father. He wouldn’t understand them, + not being educated up to Ministering Children. But Aunt Juliet is + different, for I knew that by far the kindest thing I could do to her was + to have a few faults. So I did and have ever since, though I stopped being + a Ministering Child next term and so wriggled out of the swear.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, leaning on Jimmy Kinsella, came towards them from the boat. He was + bent on being particularly polite to Miss Rutherford, feeling that he + ought to atone for his unfortunate blunder with the boat He took off his + cap and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” he said, “that you’ve been successful in catching sponges.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve not got any to-day,” said Miss Rutherford. “I haven’t begun to fish + for them. The tide isn’t low enough yet. How are you getting on with the + spies? Caught any?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Frank, “we don’t really think they are spies, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Priscilla, “the president of the War Office is out + after them. At least we think he must be. We don’t see what else he can be + after, nor does Father.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington is to arrive at my uncle’s house to-day,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Then they must be spies,” said Miss Rutherford. “Not that I ever doubted + it.” + </p> + <p> + “That water is pretty near boiling,” said Priscilla, “What about dropping + in the soup?” + </p> + <p> + “Which shall we have?” said Miss Rutherford. “There’s Mulligatawny and + Oxtail?” + </p> + <p> + “Mulligatawny is the hot sort,” said Priscilla, “rather like curry in + flavour. I’m not sure that I care much for it. By the way, talking of hot + things, didn’t you say you had some peppermint creams?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford produced the parcel. Priscilla put two into her mouth and + made a little pile of six others beside her on the ground. Frank said that + he would wait for his share till after he had his soup. Miss Rutherford + took one. The desiccated Oxtail soup was emptied into the pot. Priscilla + retained the paper in which it had been wrapped. + </p> + <p> + “‘Boil for twenty minutes,” she read, “‘stirring briskly.’ That can’t be + really necessary. I’ve always noticed that these directions for use are + too precautious. They go in frightfully for being on the safe side. I + should say myself that we’d be all right in trying it after five minutes. + And stirring is rather rot. Things aren’t a bit better for being fussed + over. In fact Father says most things come out better in the end if + they’re left alone. ‘Add salt to taste, and then serve.’ It would have + been more sensible to say ‘then eat.’ But I suppose serve is a politer + word. By the way, have you any salt?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a grain,” said Miss Rutherford. “I entirely forgot the salt.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pity,” said Priscilla, “that we didn’t think of putting in some + sea water. Potatoes are ripping when boiled in sea water and don’t need + any salt. Peter Walsh told me that once and I expect he knows, I never + tried myself.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the sea as she spoke, feeling that it was, perhaps, not too + late to add the necessary seasoning in its liquid form. A small boat, + under a patched lug sail, was crossing the mouth of the bay at the moment. + Priscilla sprang to her feet excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s Flanagan’s old boat,” she said. “I’d know it a mile off. Jimmy! + Jimmy Kinsella!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy was securing the anchor of the <i>Tortoise</i>. He looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that Flanagan’s old boat?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “It is, Miss, surely. There’s ne’er another boat in the bay but herself + with the bit of an old flour sack sewed on along the leach of the sail. It + was only last week my da was saying——” + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t a moment to lose,” said Priscilla. “Miss Rutherford, you help + Frank down. I’ll run on and get up the foresail.” + </p> + <p> + “But the soup?” said Miss Rutherford, “and the peppermint creams, and the + rest of the luncheon?” + </p> + <p> + “If you feel that you can spare the peppermint creams,” said Priscilla, + “we’ll take them. But we can’t wait for the soup.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the bread, too,” said Miss Rutherford, “and the peaches. It won’t + delay you a minute to put in the peaches!” + </p> + <p> + “If you’re perfectly certain you don’t want them for yourself, we’ll be + very glad to have them.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing would induce me to eat a Californian peach in selfish solitude,” + said Miss Rutherford, “I should choke if I tried.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” said Priscilla. “You carry them down and sling them on board. + I’ll help Frank. Now, then, Cousin Frank, do stand up. I can’t drag you + down over the seaweed on your side. You’ve got to hop more or less.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford, with the loaf of bread, the peaches and the peppermint + creams in her hand, ran down to the boat. Frank and Priscilla followed + her. Jimmy had put the anchor on board and was holding the <i>Tortoise</i> + with her bow against the shingle. + </p> + <p> + “Take me, too,” said Miss Rutherford. “I love chasing spies more than + anything else in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Priscilla. “Bound in and get down to the stern. Now, + Frank, you’re next. Oh, do go on. Jimmy, give him a lift from behind. I’ll + steer this time.” + </p> + <p> + She hauled on the foresail halyard, got the sail up and made the rope + fast. Then she sprang to the stern, squeezed past Miss Rutherford and took + the tiller. + </p> + <p> + “Shove her off, Jimmy, wade in a bit and push her head round. I’ll go off + on the starboard tack and not have to jibe. Oh, Miss Rutherford, don’t, + please don’t sit on the main sheet.” + </p> + <p> + The business of getting a boat, which is lying head to wind to pay off and + sail away, is comparatively simple. The fact that the shore lies a few + yards to windward does not complicate the matter much. The main sheet must + be allowed to run out so that the sail does not draw at first. The + foresail, its sheet being hauled down, works the boat’s head round. + Unfortunately for Priscilla, her main sheet would not run out. Miss + Rutherford made frantic efforts not to sit on it, but only succeeded in + involving herself in a serious tangle. Jimmy Kinsella pushed the boat’s + head round. Both sails filled with wind. Priscilla held the tiller across + the boat without effect The <i>Tortoise</i> heeled over, and with a + graceful swerve sailed up to the shore again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh bother!” said Priscilla, “shove her off again, Jimmy. Wade in with her + and push her head right round. Thank goodness I have the main sheet clear + now.” + </p> + <p> + This time the <i>Tortoise</i> swung round and headed for the entrance of + the bay. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy,” shouted Miss Rutherford, “there’s some soup in the pot. Go and + eat it. Afterwards you’d better come on in your boat and see what happens + to us.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no necessity for any excitement,” said Priscilla. “Let everybody + keep quite calm. We are bound to catch them.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> swung round the rocks at the mouth of the bay. + Flanagan’s old boat was seen a quarter of a mile ahead, running towards a + passage which seemed absolutely blocked with rocks. The <i>Tortoise</i> + began to overhaul her rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “I almost wish,” said Miss Rutherford, “that you’d allowed Frank to steer. + When we’re out for an adventure we ought to be as adventurous as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “They’re trying the passage through Craggeen,” said Priscilla, with her + eyes on Flanagan’s old boat. “That shows they’re pretty desperate. Hand me + the peppermint creams. There’s jolly little water there at this time of + the tide. It’ll be sheer luck if they get through.” + </p> + <p> + “Take five or six peppermints,” said Miss Rutherford, “if you feel that + they’ll steady your nerves. You’ll want something of the sort. I feel + thrills down to the tips of my fingers.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan’s old boat ran on. Seen from the <i>Tortoise</i> she seemed to + pass through an unbroken line of rocks. She twisted and turned now + southwards, now west, now northwards. The <i>Tortoise</i> sped after her. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Cousin Frank,” said Priscilla, “get hold of the centreboard rope and + haul when I tell you. There’ll be barely water to float us, if there’s + that. We’ll never get through with the centreboard down.” + </p> + <p> + She headed the boat straight for a gravelly spit of land past which the + tide swept in a rapid stream. A narrow passage opened suddenly. Priscilla + put the tiller down and the <i>Tortoise</i> swept through. A mass of + floating seaweed met them. The <i>Tortoise</i> fell off from the wind and + slipped inside it. A heavy bump followed. + </p> + <p> + “Up centreboard,” said Priscilla. “I knew it was shallow.” + </p> + <p> + Frank pulled vigorously. Another bump followed. + </p> + <p> + “Bother!” said Priscilla. “We’re done now.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> swept up into the wind. Her sails flapped helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Rudder’s gone,” said Priscilla. “That last bump unshipped it.” + </p> + <p> + She held the useless tiller in her hand. The rudder, swept forward by the + tide, drifted away until it went ashore on a reef at the northern end of + the passage. The <i>Tortoise</i>, after making one or two ineffective + efforts to sail without a rudder, grounded on the beach of Craggeen + Island. Priscilla jumped out. + </p> + <p> + “Just you two sit where you are,” said said, “and don’t let the boat + drift. I’ll run on to the point of the island and see where those spies + are going to. Then we’ll get the rudder again and be after them.” + </p> + <p> + “Frank,” said Miss Rutherford, when Priscilla had disappeared, “have you + any idea how we are to keep the boat from drifting?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s the anchor,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t trust that anchor a bit. It’s such a small one, and the boat seems + to me to be in a particularly lively mood.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i>, her bow pressed against the gravel, appeared to be + making efforts to force her way through the island. Every now and then, as + if irritated by failure, she leaned heavily over to one side. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Miss Rutherford, “I’ll stand in the water and hold her + till Priscilla comes back. It’s not deep.” + </p> + <p> + Frank’s sense of chivalry would not allow him to sit dry in the boat while + a lady was standing up to her ankles in water beside him. He struggled + overboard and stood on one leg holding on to the gunwale of the <i>Tortoise</i>. + Priscilla was to be seen on the point of the island watching Flanagan’s + old boat. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s eat some peppermint creams,” said Miss Rutherford. “They’ll keep us + warm.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m awfully sorry about all this,” said Frank. “I don’t know what you’ll + think of us. First I run into you and then Priscilla wrecks you on this + island.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m enjoying myself thoroughly,” said Miss Rutherford. “I wonder what + will happen next. We can’t go on without a rudder, can we?” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll get it back. It’s quite near us.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is. I see it bobbing up and down against the rocks there. I think + I’ll go after it myself. It will be a pleasant surprise for Priscilla when + she comes back to find that we’ve got it. Do you think you can hold the + boat by yourself? She seems quieter than she was.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford waded round the stern of the <i>Tortoise</i> and set off + towards the rudder. The water was not deep in any part of the channel, but + there were holes here and there. When Miss Rutherford stepped into them + she stood in water up to her knees. There were also slippery stones and + once she staggered and very nearly fell. She saved herself by plunging one + arm elbow deep in front of her. She hesitated and looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Thank goodness,” she said, “here’s Jimmy Kinsella coming in the other + boat. He’ll get the rudder.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Beyond the rock-strewn passage of Craggeen lies the wide roadstead of + Finilaun. Here the water is deep, and the shelter, from every quarter, + almost complete. Across the western end of it stretches like a bent bow, + the long island of Finilaun. On the south, reaching almost to the point of + Finilaun, is Craggeen, and between the two is a shallow strait. On the + east is the mainland, broken and bitten into with long creeks and bays. On + the north lies a chain of islands, Ilaunure, Curraunbeg and Curraunmor, + separated from each other by narrow channels, through which the tide runs + strongly in and out of the roadstead. + </p> + <p> + Across the open roadstead Flanagan’s old boat crept under her patched lug + sail. Priscilla, standing on the shore of Craggeen, watched eagerly. At + first she could see the occupants of the boat quite plainly, a man at the + tiller, a woman sitting forward near the mast. She had no difficulty in + recognising them. The man wore the white sweater which had attracted her + attention when she first saw him, a garment most unusual among boatmen in + Rosnacree Bay. The woman was the same who had mopped her dripping + companion with a pocket handkerchief on Inishark. They talked eagerly + together. Now and then the man turned and looked back at Craggeen. The + woman pointed something out to him. Priscilla understood. + </p> + <p> + They could see the patch of the <i>Tortoise</i>’s sail above the rocks + which blocked the entrance of the passage. They were no doubt wondering + anxiously whether they were still pursued. Flanagan’s old boat, her sail + bellied pleasantly by the following wind, drew further and further away. + Priscilla could no longer distinguish the figures of the man and woman. + She watched the sail. It was evident that the boat was making for one of + the three northern islands. Soon it was clear that her destination was the + eastern end of Curraunbeg. Either she meant to run through the passage + between that island and Curraunmor, or the spies would land on Curraunbeg. + The day was clear and bright. Priscilla’s eyes were good. She saw on the + eastern shore of Curraunbeg a white patch, distinguishable against the + green background of the field. It could be nothing else but the tents of + the spies’ encampment. Flanagan’s old boat slipped round the corner of the + island and disappeared. Priscilla was satisfied. She knew where the spies + had settled down. + </p> + <p> + She returned to the <i>Tortoise</i>. Frank had left the boat and was + sitting on the shore. Miss Rutherford, with the recovered rudder on her + knees, sat beside him. Jimmy Kinsella was standing in front of them + apparently delivering a speech. The two boats lay side by side close to + the shore. + </p> + <p> + “What’s Jimmy jawing about?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “I’m after telling the lady,” said Jimmy, “that you’ll sail no more + today.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I not? And why?” + </p> + <p> + “You will not,” said Jimmy, “because the rudder iron is broke on you.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the worst of these boats,” said Priscilla. “The rudder sticks down + six inches below the bottom of them and if there happens to be a rock + anywhere in the neighborhood it’s the rudder that it’s sure to hit.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll excuse me saying so, Miss, but you’d no right to be trying to get + through Craggeen at this time of the tide. It couldn’t be done.” + </p> + <p> + “It could,” said Priscilla, “and, what’s more, it would, only for that old + rudder.” + </p> + <p> + “Any way,” said Jimmy; “you’ll sail no more today, and it’ll be lucky if + you sail tomorrow for you’ll have to give that rudder to Patsy, the smith, + to put a new iron on it and that same Patsy isn’t one that likes doing + anything in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going on to Curraunbeg,” said Priscilla, “I’ll steer with an oar.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it steer with an oar, Miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you often done it yourself, Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that one,” said Jimmy, pointing to the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Sure my da’s said to me many’s the time how that one is pretty near as + giddy as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Your da talks too much,” said Priscilla. “Come on, Cousin Frank. What + about you, Miss Rutherford? Are you coming?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll not go,” said Jimmy, “or if you do, you’ll walk.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla looked out at the sea. The tide was falling rapidly. Through the + opening of the passage which led into Finilaun roadstead there was no more + than a trickle of water running like a brook over the stony bottom. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be as much as you’ll do this minute,” said Jimmy, “to get back the + way you came, and you’ll only do that same by taking the sails off of her + and poling her along with an oar.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla surrendered. It is, after all, impossible to sail a boat without + water. The <i>Tortoise</i> lay afloat in a pool, but the Finilaun end of + the passage was hardly better than a lane-way of wet stones. At the other + end there was still high water, but very little of it. Priscilla acted + promptly in the emergency. She had no desire to lie imprisoned for hours + on Craggeen, she had lain the day before on the bank off Inishark. She + took the sails off the <i>Tortoise</i> and, standing on the thwart + amidships, began poling the boat back into the open water at the + south-eastern end of the passage. Jimmy, also poling, followed in his + boat. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford, the broken rudder still on her knees, and Frank, were + left on shore. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said, “that Priscilla intends to maroon us here? She’s + gone without us.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m awfully sorry,” said Franks “It’s not my fault. I couldn’t stop her.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s got all the food there is, even the peppermint creams. I wish I’d + thought of snatching that parcel from the boat before she started. She’d + have come back when she found out they were gone. I wonder whether Jimmy + finished the soup? I wonder what he’s done with the Primus stove. It + wasn’t mine, and I know Professor Wilder sets a value on it. Perhaps + they’ll pick it up on their way and return it. If they do I shan’t so much + mind what happens to us.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think they’ll really leave us here,” said Frank. “Even Priscilla + wouldn’t do that. I wish I could walk down to the corner of the island and + see where they’ve gone.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella appeared, strolling quietly along the shore. + </p> + <p> + “The young lady says, Miss,” he said “that if you wouldn’t mind walking + down to the far side of the gravel spit, which is where she has the boats, + she’d be glad, for she wouldn’t like to be eating what’s in the boat + without you’d be there to have some yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla is perfectly splendid,” said Miss Rutherford, “and we’re not + going to be marooned after all. Come along, Frank.” + </p> + <p> + “The young lady says, Miss,” said Jimmy, “that if you’d go to her the best + way you can by yourself that I’d give my arm to the gentleman and get him + along over the stones so as not to hurt his leg and that same won’t be + easy for the shore’s mortal rough.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford refused to desert Frank. She recognised that the shore was + all that Jimmy said it was. Large slippery boulders were strewed about it + for fifty yards or so between the place where she stood and the gravel + spit. She insisted on helping Jimmy to transport Frank. In the end they + descended upon Priscilla, all three abreast. Frank, with one arm round + Jimmy’s neck and one round Miss Rutherford’s, hobbled bravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Priscilla, “that this is exactly an ideal place for + luncheon, but we can have it here if you like, and in some ways I’m rather + inclined to. You never know what may happen if you put things off. Last + time the but was snatched out of our mouths by a callous destiny just as + it was beginning to smell really good. By the way, Jimmy, what did you do + with the soup?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s there beyond, Miss, where you left it.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect it’s all boiled away by this time,” said Priscilla, “but of + course the Primus stove may have gone out. You never know beforehand how + those patent machines will act. If it has gone out the soup will be all + right, though coldish. Perhaps we’d better go back there.” + </p> + <p> + “Which would you like to do yourself, Priscilla,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Now that those spies have escaped us again,” said Priscilla, “it doesn’t + matter to me in the least where we go. But this place is a bit stony for + sitting in for long. I’m beginning to feel already rather as if a plougher + had ploughed upon my back and made large furrows; but of course I’m + thinking principally of Frank on account of his sprained ankle. A grassy + couch would be much pleasanter for him, and there is grass where we left + the Primus stove. We can row back. It isn’t a very long pull.” + </p> + <p> + “The wind’s dropped, Miss, with the fall of the tide,” said Jimmy, “and + what’s left of it has gone round to the southward.” + </p> + <p> + “That settles it,” said Priscilla. “Frank, you and Miss Rutherford, go in + the <i>Tortoise</i>. Jimmy and I will row the other boat and tow you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can row all right,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + To be treated as incapable by Priscilla when they were alone together was + unpleasant but tolerable. To be held up as an object of scorn to Miss + Rutherford was not tolerable. He had already exposed himself to her + contempt by running her down. He was anxious to show her that he was not + altogether a fool in a boat. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t, much,” said Priscilla. “At least you didn’t seem as if you + could yesterday; but if you like you can try. We’ll take the oars out of + the <i>Tortoise</i> into your boat, Jimmy, and pull four.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how that could be, Miss, for there’s only three seats in my + boat along with the one in the stern and you couldn’t row from that.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be a fool, Jimmy. I’ll pull two oars in the middle. Frank will take + one in the bow, and you’ll pull stroke. Miss Rutherford will have the <i>Tortoise</i> + all to herself.” + </p> + <p> + Frank found it comparatively easy to row in Jimmy Kinsella’s boat. The oar + was short and stumpy with a very narrow blade. It was worked between two + thole pins of which one was cracked and required tender treatment. It was + impossible to pull comfortably while sitting in the middle of the seat; he + still hit Priscilla in the back when he swung forward; but there was no + boom to hit him and there was no mast behind him to bump his own back + against. Priscilla was too fully occupied managing her own two oars to pay + much attention to him. Jimmy Kinsella pulled away with dogged indifference + to what any one else was doing. Miss Rutherford sat in the stern of the <i>Tortoise</i> + and shouted encouraging remarks from time to time. She had, apparently, + boated on the Thames at some time in her life, for she was mistress of a + good deal of rowing slang which she used with vigour and effect. It + cheered Frank greatly to hear the more or less familiar words, for he + realised almost at once that neither Priscilla nor Jimmy Kinsella + understood them. He felt a warm affection for Miss Rutherford rise in his + heart when she told Jimmy, who sat humped up over his oar, to keep his + back flat. Jimmy merely smiled in reply. He had known since he was two + years old that the flatness or roundness of the rower’s back has nothing + whatever to do with the progress of a boat in Rosnacree Bay. A few minutes + later she accused Priscilla of “bucketing,” and Frank loved her for the + word. Priscilla replied indignantly with an obvious misapprehension of + Miss Rutherford’s meaning. Frank, who was rowing in his best style, smiled + and was pleased to catch sight of an answering smile on Miss Rutherford’s + lips. He had established an understanding with her. She and he, as + representatives of the rowing of a higher civilisation, could afford to + smile together over the barbarous methods of Priscilla and Jimmy Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + The tide was still against them, though the full strength of the ebb was + past. The stream which ran through the narrow water-way had to be reckoned + with. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i>, when being towed, behaved after the manner of her + kind. She hung heavily on the tow rope for a minute; then rushed forward + as if she wished to bump the stern of Jimmy’s boat At the last moment she + used to change her mind and swoop off to the right or left, only to be + brought up short by the rope at which she tugged with angry jerks until, + finding that it really could not be broken, she dropped sulkily astern. + These manoeuvres, though repeated with every possible variation, left + Priscilla and Jimmy Kinsella entirely unmoved. They pulled with the same + stolid indifference whatever pranks the <i>Tortoise</i> played. They + annoyed Frank. Sometimes when the tow rope hung slack in the water, he + pulled through his stroke with ease and comfort. Sometimes when the <i>Tortoise</i> + hung back heavily he seemed to be pulling against an impossible dead + weight. But his worst experience came when the <i>Tortoise</i> altered her + tactics in the middle of one of his strokes. Then, if it happened that she + sulked suddenly, he was brought up short with a jerk that jarred his + spine. If, on the other; hand, she chose to rush forward when he had his + weight well on the end of his oar, he ran a serious risk of falling + backwards after the manner of beginners who catch crabs. The side swoops + of the <i>Tortoise</i> were equally trying. They seemed to Frank to + disturb hopelessly the whole rhythm of the rowing. Nothing but the + encouragement which came to him from Miss Rutherford’s esoteric slang kept + him from losing his temper. He could not have been greatly blamed if he + had lost it. It was after three o’clock. He had breakfasted, meagrely, on + bread and honey, at half past seven. He had spent the intervening seven + and a half hours on the sea, eating nothing but the one peppermit cream + which Miss Rutherford pressed on him while he held the <i>Tortoise</i> at + Craggeen. Priscilla had eaten a great many peppermint cream and was + besides more inured to starvation on the water of the bay than Frank was. + But even Priscilla, when the excitement of getting away from Craggeen had + passed, seemed slightly depressed. She scarcely spoke at all, and when she + replied to Miss Rutherford’s accusation of “bucketing” did so incisively. + </p> + <p> + The boats turned into the bay from which Miss Rutherford had first hailed + the <i>Tortoise</i>. They were safely beached. Priscilla ran up to the + nook under the hill where the Primus stove was left. Miss Rutherford and + Jimmy stayed to help Frank. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right,” shouted Priscilla. “A good deal has boiled away, but the + Primus stove evidently went out in time to prevent the bottom being boiled + out of the pot. Want of paraffin, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Miss Rutherford, “I have some more in a bottle. We can + boil it up again.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s hardly worth while,” said Priscilla. “I expect it would be quite + good cold, what’s left of it. Thickish of course, but nourishing.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll make a second brew,” said Miss Rutherford. “I have another package. + Jimmy, do you know if there’s any water in this neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a well beyond,” said Jimmy, “at the end of the field across the + hill, but I don’t would the likes of yez drink the water that does be in + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Saltish?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “It is not then. But the cattle does be drinking out of it and I wouldn’t + say it was too clean.” + </p> + <p> + “If we boil it,” said Frank, “that won’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + He had read, as most of us did at the time, accounts of the precautions + taken by the Japanese doctors during the war with Russia to save the + soldiers under their care from enteric fever. He believed that boiling + removed dirt from water. + </p> + <p> + “There’s worms in it,” said Jimmy. “It’s hardly ever you take a cupful out + of it without you’d feel the worms on your tongue and you drinking it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford looked at Priscilla, who appeared undismayed at the + prospect of swallowing worms. Then she looked at Frank. He was evidently + doubtful. His faith in boiling did not save him from a certain shrinking + from wormy soup. + </p> + <p> + “Once we were out for a picnic,” said Priscilla, “and when we’d finished + tea we found a frog, dead, of course, in the bottom of the kettle. It + hadn’t flavoured the tea in the least. In fact we didn’t know it was there + till afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + She poured out the cold soup into the two cups and the enamelled mug as + she spoke. Then she handed the pot to Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Run now,” she said, “and fill that up with your dirty water. We’ll have + the stove lit and the other packet of soup ready by the time you’re back.” + </p> + <p> + The soup which had not boiled away was very thick indeed. It turned out to + be impossible to drink it, but Priscilla discovered that it could be poured + out slowly, like clotted cream, on pieces of bread held ready for it under + the rims of the cups. It remained, spreading gradually, on top of the + bread long enough to allow a prompt eater to get the whole thing into his + mouth without allowing any of the soup to be wasted by dripping on to the + ground. The flavour was excellent. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy returned with the water. Miss Rutherford put the pot on the stove at + once. It was better, she said, to boil it without looking at it. + </p> + <p> + “The directions for use,” said Priscilla, “say that the water should be + brought to the boil before the soup is put in. But that, of course, is + ridiculous. We’ll put the dry soup in at once and let it simmer. I expect + the flavour will come out all right if we leave it till it does boil.” + </p> + <p> + “In the meanwhile,” said Miss Rutherford, “we’ll attack the Californian + peaches.” + </p> + <p> + They ate them, as they had eaten the others the day before, in their + fingers, straight out of the tin with greedy rapture. Five half peaches, + nearly all the juice, and a large chunk of bread, were given to Jimmy + Kinsella, who carried them off and devoured them in privacy behind his + boat. + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow,” said Priscilla, “we’ll have another go at the spies. They’re + desperately afraid of us. I could see that when they were escaping across + Finilaun harbour.” + </p> + <p> + “By the expression of their faces?” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. It was more the way they were going on. Sylvia Courtney was + once learning off a poem called ‘The Ancient Mariner.’ That was when she + was going in for the prize in English literature. She and I sleep in the + same room and she used to say a few verses of it every night while we were + doing our hairs. I never thought any of it would come in useful to me, but + it has; which just shows that one never ought to waste anything. The bit I + mean was about a man who walked along a road at night in fear and dread. + He used to look round and then turn no more his head, because he knew a + frightful fiend did close behind him tread. That’s exactly what those two + spies did today when they were sailing across Finilaun; so you see poetry + is some use after all. I used to think it wasn’t; but it is. It’s + frightfully silly to make up your mind that anything in the world is no + use. You never can tell until you’ve tried and that may not be for years.” + </p> + <p> + “The spies,” said Miss Rutherford, “are, I suppose, encamped somewhere on + the far side of Finilaun harbour.” + </p> + <p> + “On Curraunbeg,” said Priscilla. “I saw the tents.” + </p> + <p> + “I may be going in that direction myself tomorrow,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla got up and stepped across to the place where Frank was sitting. + She stooped down and whispered to him. Then she returned to her own seat + and winked at him, keeping her left eye closed for nearly half a minute, + and screwing up the corresponding corner of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “We hope,” said Frank, “that you’ll join us at luncheon tomorrow wherever + we may meet. It’s our turn to bring the grub.” + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure,” said Miss Rutherford. “Shall I bring the + stove?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t like to invite you,” said Priscilla, “until I found out whether + Frank had any money to buy things with. As it turns out he has lots. I + haven’t. That’s the reason I whispered to him, although I know it’s rude + to whisper when there’s any one else there. Of course, I may be able to + collar a few things out of the house; but I may not. With that Secretary + of War staying in the house there is bound to be a lot of food lying about + which nobody would notice much if it was gone. But then it’s not easy to + get it unless you happen not to be allowed in to dinner, which may be the + case. If I’m not—Frank, I’m afraid, is sure to be on account of his + having a dress coat—but if I’m not, which is what may happen if Aunt + Juliet thinks it would score off me not to, then I can get lots of things + without difficulty because the cook can’t possibly tell whether they’ve + been finished up in the dining-room or not.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll hope for the best,” said Miss Rutherford. “A jelly now or a few + meringues would certainly be a pleasant variety after the tinned and dried + provisions of the last two days.” + </p> + <p> + The peppermint creams were finished before the second brew of soup came to + the boil on the Primus stove. Priscilla poured it out. It was hot, of about + the consistency usual in soup, and it smelt savoury. Nevertheless Miss + Rutherford, after watching for an opportunity to do so unseen, poured hers + out on the ground. Frank fingered his mug irresolutely and once took a + sip. Priscilla, after looking at her share intently, carried it off and + gave it to Jimmy Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “It’s curious,” she said when she came back, “but I don’t feel nearly so + keen on soup as I did. I daresay it’s the peaches and the peppermint + creams. I used to think it was rather rot putting off the sweets at dinner + until after the meaty things. Now, I know it isn’t. Sometimes there’s + really a lot of sense in an arrangement which seems silly at first, which + is one of the things which always makes me say that grownup people aren’t + such fools as you might suppose if you didn’t really know.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll remember that at lunch tomorrow,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + No one mentioned worms. + </p> + <p> + For the second time the weather, generally malign and irresponsible, + favoured Priscilla. With the rising tide a light westerly breeze sprang + up. She hoisted the sails and sat in the stern of the boat with an oar. + She tucked the middle of it under her armpit, pressed her side tight + against the gunwale, and with the blade trailing in the water steadied the + <i>Tortoise</i> on her course. There is a short cut back to Rosnacree quay + from the bay in which Miss Rutherford was left. It winds among a perfect + maze of rocks, half covered or bare at low water, gradually becoming + invisible as the tide rises. Priscilla, whose self-confidence was unshaken + by her disaster in Craggeen passage, took this short cut in spite of a + half-hearted protest from Frank. “I don’t exactly know the way,” she said, + “but now that we’ve lost the rudder there’s nothing very much can happen + to us. We can keep the centreboard up as we’re running, and if we do go on + a rock, the tide will lift us off again. It’s rising now. Besides, it + saves us miles to go this way, and it really won’t do for you to be late + for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Thomas Antony Kinsella sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the + quay. Beneath him lay his boat. The tide was flowing, but it had not yet + floated her. She was supported on an even keel by the mooring ropes made + fast from her bow and stern to bollards on the quay. Her sails and gear + lay in confusion on her thwarts. She was still half full of gravel + although some of her cargo had been shovelled out and lay in a heap behind + Kinsella. He was apparently disinclined to shovel out the rest, an + excusable laziness, for the day was very hot. + </p> + <p> + With the point of a knife Kinsella scraped the charred ash from the bowl + of his pipe. Then he cut several thin slices from a plug of black twist + tobacco, rolled them slowly between the palm of one hand and the thumb of + the other; spat thoughtfully over the side of the quay into his boat, + charged his pipe and put it into his mouth. There he held it for some + minutes while he stared glassily at the top of his boat’s mast. He spat + again and then drew a match from his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + Sergeant Rafferty of the Royal Irish Constabulary strolled quietly along + the quay. It was his duty to stroll somewhere every day in order to + intimidate malefactors. He found the quay on the whole a more interesting + place than any of the country roads round the town, so he often chose it + for the scene of what his official regulations described as a “patrol.” + When he reached Kinsella he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Good day to you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Kinsella, without looking round, struck his match on a stone beside him + and lit his pipe. He sucked in three draughts of smoke, spat again and + then acknowledged the sergeant’s greeting. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fine day,” said the sergeant + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Kinsella, “thanks be to God.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stirred the pile of gravel on the quay thoughtfully with his + foot. Then, peering over Kinsella’s shoulder, he took a look at the gravel + which still remained in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this, now, Joseph Antony,” he said. “Who might that gravel be + for? It’s the third day you’re after bringing in a load and there’s ne’er + a cart’s been down for it yet?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t say who it might be for.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me that now? And who’s to pay you for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sweeny ‘ll pay for it,” said Kinsella. “It was him ordered it.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stirred the gravel again with his foot Timothy Sweeny was a + publican who kept a small shop in one of the back streets of Rosnacree. He + was known to the sergeant, but was not regarded with favour. There is a + way into Sweeny’s house through a back-yard which is reached by climbing a + wall. Sweeny’s front door was always shut on Sundays and his shutters were + put up during those hours when the law regards the consumption of alcohol + as undesirable. But the sergeant had good reason to suppose that many + thirsty people found their way to the refreshment they craved through the + back-yard. Sweeny was an object of suspicion and dislike to the sergeant. + Therefore he stirred the gravel on the quay again and again looked at the + gravel in the boat. There is no law against buying gravel; but it seemed + to the sergeant very difficult to believe that Sweeny had bought four + boatloads of it. Joseph Antony Kinsella felt that some explanation was due + to the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a gentleman up the country,” he said, “that Sweeny’s buying the + gravel for. I did hear that he’s to send it by rail when I have the whole + of it landed.” + </p> + <p> + He watched the sergeant out of the corners of his eyes to see how he would + receive this statement. The sergeant did not seem to be altogether + satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “What are you getting for it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Five shillings a load.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re doing well,” said the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “It’s good gravel, so it is, the best.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be good gravel,” said the sergeant, “but the gentleman that’s + buying it will buy it dear if you take the half of every load you bring in + home in the evening and fetch it here again the next morning along with a + little more.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stared at the gravel in the boat as he spoke. His face had + cleared, and the look of suspicion had left his eyes. Sweeny, so his + instinct told him, must be engaged in some kind of wrongdoing. + </p> + <p> + Now he understood what it was. The gentleman up the country was to be + defrauded of half the gravel he paid for. Curiously enough, considering + that his wrongdoing had been detected, the look of anxiety left Kinsella’s + face. He sucked at his pipe, found that it had gone out, and slipped it + into his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If neither Sweeny nor the gentleman is making any complaint,” he said, + “it would suit you to keep your mouth shut.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not blaming you,” said the sergeant “Sure, anybody’d do the same if + they got the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “If there’s people in the world,” said Kinsella, “that hasn’t sense enough + to see that they get what they pay for, oughtn’t we to be thankful for + it?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re right there,” said the sergeant + </p> + <p> + Kinsella took out his pipe and lit it again. Sergeant Rafferty after + examining the sea with attentive scrutiny for some minutes, strolled back + towards his barracks. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh slid off the window sill of Brannigan’s shop and took a long + look at the sky. Having satisfied himself that its appearance was very + much what he expected he walked down the quay to the place where Kinsella + was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fine evening,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Kinsella, “as fine an evening as you’d see, thanks be to + God.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh sat down beside his friend and spat into the boat beneath him. + </p> + <p> + “I seen the sergeant talking to you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That same sergeant has mighty little to do,” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be as well for us if he hasn’t more one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that, Peter Walsh?” + </p> + <p> + “What might he have been talking to you about?” + </p> + <p> + “Gravel, no less.” + </p> + <p> + “Asking who it might be for or the like? Would you say, now, Joseph + Antony, that he was anyways uneasy in his mind?” + </p> + <p> + “He was uneasy,” said Kinsella, “but he’s easy now.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him who the gravel was for?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it likely I’d tell him when I didn’t know myself? What I told him was + that Timothy Sweeny had the gravel bought off me at five shillings a load + and that it was likely he’d be sending it by rail to some gentleman up the + country that would have it ordered from him.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “What he as good as said was that Timothy Sweeny and myself would have the + gentleman cheated out of half the gravel he’d paid for by the time he’d + got the other half. There was a smile on his face like there might be on a + man, and him after a long drink, when he found out the way we were getting + the better of the gentleman up the country. Believe you me, Peter Walsh, + he wouldn’t have rested easy in his bed until he did find out, either that + or some other thing.” + </p> + <p> + “That sergeant is as cute as a pet fox,” said Peter Walsh. “You’d be hard + set to keep anything from him that he wanted to know.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsella sat for some minutes without speaking. Then he took a match from + his pocket and lit his pipe for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “I’d be glad,” he said, “if you’d tell me what it was you had in your mind + when you said a minute ago that the sergeant might maybe have more to do + than he’d care for one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh looked carefully round him in every direction and satisfied + himself that there was no one within earshot. + </p> + <p> + “Was I telling you,” he said, “about the gentleman, and the lady along + with him that came in on the train today?” + </p> + <p> + “You were not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he came, and I’m thinking that he’s a high-up man.” + </p> + <p> + “What about him?” + </p> + <p> + “The sergeant was sent for up to the big house,” said Peter Walsh, “soon + after the strange gentleman came. I don’t know rightly what they wanted + with him. Sweeny was asking Constable Maloney after; but sure the boy knew + no more than I did myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a curious thing,” said Kinsella, “so it is, damned curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Damned,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t be sorry if the whole lot of them was drownded one of these + days.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t like anything would happen to the young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it Priscilla? I wasn’t meaning her. But any way, Peter Walsh, you know + well the sea wouldn’t drown that one.” + </p> + <p> + “It would not, surely. Why would it?” + </p> + <p> + “What I had in my mind,” said Kinsella, “was the rest of them.” + </p> + <p> + He looked sadly at the sky and then out across the sea, which was + perfectly calm. + </p> + <p> + “But there’ll be no drowning,” he added with a sigh, “while the weather + holds the way it is.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a feel in the air,” said Peter Walsh hopefully, “like as if there + might be thunder.” + </p> + <p> + A small boat, rowed by a boy, stole past them up the harbour. Neither of + the two men spoke until she reached the slip at the end of the quay. + </p> + <p> + “I’d be sorry,” said Kinsella, “if anything would happen to them two that + does be going about in Flanagan’s old boat. There’s no harm in them + barring the want of sense.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be as well for them to be kept off Inishbawn for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “They never offered to set foot on the island,” said Kinsella, “since the + day I told them that herself and the childer had the fever. The way it is + with them, they wouldn’t care where they’d be, one place being the same to + them as another, if they’d be let alone.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what they will not be, then.” + </p> + <p> + “On account of Priscilla?” + </p> + <p> + “Her and the young fellow she has with her. They’re out hunting them two + that has Flanagan’s old boat the same as it might be some of the boys at a + coursing match and the hare in front of them. Such chasing you never seen! + It was up out of their beds they were this morning at six o’clock, when + you’d think the likes of them would be asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I seen them,” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “And the one of them is as bad as the other. You’d be hard put to it to + say whether it was Priscilla has put the comether on the young fellow or + him that had her druv’ on to be doing what it would be better for her to + leave alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this now, Peter Walsh, that young fellow is by the way of having + a sore leg on him, so they tell me. Would you say now but that might be a + trick the way it would put us off from suspecting any mischief he might be + up to?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking myself,” said Peter, “that he might be imposing on us; but + it’s my opinion now that the leg’s genuine. I followed them up last night, + unbeknown to them, to see would he get out of the perambulator when he was + clear of the town and nobody to notice him. But he kept in it and she + wheeled him up to the big house every step of the way.” + </p> + <p> + The evidence was conclusive and carried complete conviction to Kinsella’s + mind. + </p> + <p> + “What would be your own opinion,” said Peter Walsh, “about that one that + does be going about the bay in your own boat along with Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t say there’d be much harm in her. Jimmy says it’s hard to tell + what she’d be after. He did think at the first go off that it might be + cockles; but it’s not, for he took her to Carribee strand, where there’s + plenty of them, and the devil a one she’d pick up. Nor it’s not + periwinkles. Nor dilishk, though they do say that the dilishk is reckoned + to be a cure for consumption, and you’d think it might be that. But Jimmy + says it’s not, for he offered her a bit yesterday and she wouldn’t look at + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what else it could be,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I don’t know. But Jimmy says she doesn’t speak like one that would be + any ways in with the police.” + </p> + <p> + “She was in Brannigan’s last night, buying peppermint drops and every kind + of foolishness, the same as she might be a little girleen that was given a + penny and her just out of school.” + </p> + <p> + “If she hasn’t more sense at her time of life,” said Kinsella, “she never + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing it’s that sort she is, I wouldn’t say we’d any need to be caring + where she goes so long as it isn’t to Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll not go there,” said Kinsella, “for if she does I’ll flay the skin + of Jimmy’s back with the handle of a hay-rake, and well he knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I was easy in my mind about the strange gentleman that’s up at the big + house——” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a curious thing, so it is, him sending for the sergeant the minute + he came.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedamn,” said Peter Walsh, “but it is.” + </p> + <p> + The extreme oddness of the strange gentleman’s conduct affected both men + profoundly. For fully five minutes they sat staring at the sea, + motionless, save when one or the other of them thrust his head forward a + little in order to spit. Kinsella at last got out his pipe, probed the + tobacco a little with the point of his knife so as to loosen it, pressed + it together again with his thumb, and then lit it. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t mind the sergeant,” he said, “cute and all as he thinks + himself, I wouldn’t mind him. It’s the strange gentleman I’m thinking of.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> stole round the end of the quay while he spoke. + Kinsella eyed her. He noticed at once that Priscilla was steering with an + oar. In his acutely suspicious mood every trifle was a matter for + investigation. + </p> + <p> + “What’s wrong with her,” he said, “that she wouldn’t steer with the rudder + when she has one?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be,” said Peter Walsh, “that she’s lost it. You couldn’t tell + what the likes of her would do.” + </p> + <p> + “She was in trouble this morning when I seen her,” said Kinsella, “but she + had the rudder then.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla hailed them from the boat + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Peter!” she shouted. “Go down to the slip and be ready to take the + boat. Have you the bath chair ready?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, Miss. It’s there standing beside the slip where you left it this + morning. Who’d touch the like? What’s happened the rudder?” + </p> + <p> + “Iron’s broken,” said Priscilla, “and it must be mended tonight. I say, + Kinsella, Jimmy’s leg isn’t near as bad as you’d think it would be, after + having the horn of a wild bull run through it.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t a bull at all, Miss, but a heifer.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see that it makes much difference which it was,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that now?” said Kinsella to his friend in a whisper. “Believe + you me, Peter Walsh, it’s as good for the whole of us that she’s not in + the police.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that you’re saying?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The boat, though the wind had almost left her sails, drifted up on the + rising tide and was already past the spot where the two men were sitting. + Peter Walsh got up and shouted his answer after her. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony Kinsella,” he said, “is just after telling me that it’s his + belief that you’d make a grand sergeant of police.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a good job for him that I’m not,” said Priscilla. “For the first + thing I’d do if I was would be to go out and see what it is he has going + on on Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh, without unduly hurrying himself, arrived at the slip before + the <i>Tortoise</i>. Priscilla stepped ashore and handed him the rudder. + </p> + <p> + “Take that to the smith,” she said, “and tell him to put a new iron on it + this evening. We’ll want it again tomorrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell him, Miss; but I wouldn’t say he’d do it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “He’d jolly well better,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “That same Patsy the smith,” said Peter Walsh, “has a terrible strong hate + in him for doing anything in a hurry whether it’s little or big.” + </p> + <p> + “Just you tell him from me,” said Priscilla, “that if I don’t get that + rudder properly settled when I want it tomorrow morning, I’ll go out to + Inishbawn, in spite of your rats and your heifers.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh’s face remained perfectly impassive. Not even in his eyes was + there the smallest expression of surprise or uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “What would be the good of saying the like of that to him?” he said. “It’s + laughing at me he’d be, for he wouldn’t understand what I’d mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell me,” said Priscilla. “Whatever villainy there is going on + between you and Joseph Antony Kinsella, Patsy the smith will be in it + along with you.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh helped Frank into the bath-chair. Priscilla, her face wearing + a most determined expression, wheeled him away. + </p> + <p> + “That rudder will be ready all right,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think is going on on the island?” asked Frank. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Could they be smuggling?” + </p> + <p> + “They might be smuggling, only I don’t see where they’d get anything to + smuggle. Anyway, it’s no business of ours so long as we get the rudder. I + don’t think it’s at all a good plan, Cousin Frank, to be always poking our + noses into other people’s secrets, when we don’t absolutely have to.” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to Frank that Priscilla had shown some eagerness in probing + the private affairs of the young couple who had hired Flanagan’s boat. He + did not, however, feel it necessary to make this obvious retort. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh, the rudder under his arm, went back to Joseph Antony + Kinsella, who was still sitting on the edge of the quay. + </p> + <p> + “She says,” he said, “that without there’s a new iron on that rudder + tomorrow morning, she’ll go out to Inishbawn and the young fellow along + with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let Patsy the smith put it on for her, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure he can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “And what’s to hinder him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was drunk an hour ago,” said Peter Walsh, “and he’ll be drunker now.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedamn then, but you’d better take him down and dip him in the tide, for + I’ll not have that young fellow with the sore leg on Inishbawn. If it was + only herself I wouldn’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d be afeard to do it,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Afeard of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Afeard of Patsy the smith. Sure it’s a madman he is when his temper’s + riz.” + </p> + <p> + “Let you come along with me,” said Kinsella, “and I’ll wake him up if it + takes the brand of a hot iron to do it. He can be as mad as he likes + after, but he’ll put an iron on that rudder before ever he gets leave to + kill you or any other man.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Priscilla wheeled the bath-chair up the hill from the town, chatting + cheerfully as she went. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be rather exciting,” she said, “to see these Torrington people. I + don’t think I’ve ever come across a regular, full-blown Marquis before. + Lord Thormanby is a peer of course, but he doesn’t soar to those giddy + heights. I suppose he’ll sit on us frightfully if we dare to speak. Not + that I mean to try. The thing for me to do is to be ‘a simple child which + lightly draws its breath, and feels its life in every limb.’ That’s a + quotation, Cousin Frank. Wordsworth, I think. Sylvia Courtney says it’s + quite too sweet for words. I haven’t read the rest of it, so of course, + can’t say, but I think that bit’s rather rot, though I daresay Lord + Torrington will like it all right when I do it for him.” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt a certain doubt about the policy. Lord Torrington was indeed + pretty sure to prefer a simple child to Priscilla in her ordinary mood; + but there was a serious risk of her over-doing the part. He warned + Priscilla to be exceedingly careful. She brushed his advice aside with an + abrupt change of subject. + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” she said, “that Mrs. Geraghty will be up at the house again. + Aunt Juliet wouldn’t trust anybody else to hook up Lady Torrington’s back. + I can do my own, of course; but nobody can who is either fat or dignified. + I’m pretty lean, but even I have to wriggle a lot.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Geraghty was up at the house. This became plain to Priscilla when she + reached the gate-lodge. Mr. Geraghty, who was a gardener by profession, + was sitting on his own doorstep with the baby in his arms. The baby, + resenting the absence of his mother, was howling. Priscilla stopped. + </p> + <p> + “If you like,” she said, “I’ll wheel the baby up to the house and give him + to Mrs. Geraghty. Aunt Juliet won’t like it if I do. In fact she’ll dance + about with insatiable fury. But it may be the right thing to do all the + same. We ought always to do what’s right, Mr. Geraghty, even if other + people behave like wild boars; that is to say if we are quite sure that it + is right; I think it’s nearly sure to be right to give a baby to its + mother; though there may be times when it’s not. Solomon did, and that’s a + pretty good example; though I don’t suppose that even Solomon always knew + for certain when he was doing the rightest thing there was. Anyhow, I’ll + risk it if you like, Mr. Geraghty. You won’t mind having the baby on your + knee for a bit, will you, Cousin Frank?” + </p> + <p> + Frank did mind very much. The ordinary healthy-minded, normal prefect + dislikes having anything to do with babies even more than he dislikes + being called a child by maiden ladies. + </p> + <p> + He looked appealingly at Mr. Geraghty. The baby, misunderstanding + Priscilla’s intentions, yelled louder than before. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Geraghty, fortunately for Frank, was not a man of the heroic kind. + Abstract right was less to him than expediency and he missed the point of + the comparison between his position and King Solomon’s. He thought it + better that his baby should suffer than that Miss Lentaigne’s anger should + be roused. He declined Priscilla’s offer. + </p> + <p> + Near the upper end of Rosnacree avenue there is a corner from which a view + of the lawn is obtained. Sir Lucius and another gentleman were pacing to + and fro on the grass when Priscilla and Frank reached the corner and + caught sight of them. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” said Frank, suddenly. “Turn back, Priscilla. Go round some other + way.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla stopped. The eager excitement of Frank’s tone surprised her. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked. “It’s only father and that Lord of his. We’ve got to + face them some time or other. We may as well get it over at once.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the beast who shoved me over the steamer’s gangway,” said Frank, + “and sprained my ankle.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius and Lord Torrington turned at the end of the lawn and began to + walk towards Priscilla and Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Now I can see his face,” said Priscilla, “I don’t wonder at your rather + loathing him. I think you were jolly lucky to get off with a sprained + ankle. A man with a nose like that would break your arm or stab you in the + back.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Torrington’s nose was fleshy, pitted in places, and of a purple + colour. + </p> + <p> + “Curious taste the King must have,” said Priscilla, “to make a man like + that a Marquis. You’d expect he’d choose out fairly good-looking people. + But, of course, you can’t really tell about kings. I daresay they have to + do quite a lot of things they don’t really like, on account of being + constitutional. Rather poor sport being constitutional, I should say; for + the King that is. It’s pleasanter, of course, for the other people.” + </p> + <p> + Frank knew that the present King was blameless in the matter of Lord + Torrington’s marquisate. It was inherited from a great-grandfather, who + may have had an ordinary, possibly even a beautiful nose. But he attempted + no explanation. His anxiety made him disinclined for a discussion of the + advantages of having an hereditary aristocracy. + </p> + <p> + “Do turn back, Priscilla,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If he is the man who sprained your ankle,” she said, “it’s far better for + you to have it out with him now when I’m here to back you up. If you put + it off till dinner time you’ll have to tackle him alone. I’m sure not to + be let in. Anyhow, we can’t go back now. They’ve seen us.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Torrington and Sir Lucius approached them. Frank plucked nervously at + his tie, unbuttoned and then re-buttoned his coat. He felt that he had + been entirely blameless during the scrimmage on the gangway of the + steamer, but Lord Torrington did not look like a man who would readily own + himself to be in the wrong. + </p> + <p> + “Your daughter, Lentaigne?” said Lord Torrington. “H’m, fifteen, you said; + looks less. Shake hands, little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla put out her right hand demurely. Her eyes were fixed on the + ground. Her lips were slightly parted in a deprecating smile, suggestive + of timid modesty. + </p> + <p> + “What’s your name?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla Lentaigne.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have been meeker than the tone in which she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “H’m,” said Lord Torrington, “and you’re Mannix’s boy. Not much like your + father. At school?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Frank. “At Haileybury.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing in that bath-chair with the young lady wheeling you? + Is that the kind of manners they teach at Haileybury?” + </p> + <p> + “Please,” said Priscilla, speaking very gently. “It’s not his fault.” + </p> + <p> + “He has sprained his ankle,” said Sir Lucius. “He can’t walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Lord Torrington. “Sprained ankle, is it?” + </p> + <p> + He turned and walked back to the lawn. Sir Lucius followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Rather a bear, I call him,” said Priscilla. “But, of course, he may be + one of those cases of a heart of gold inside a rough skin. You can’t be + sure. We did ‘As You Like It’ last Christmas—dramatic club, you know—and + Sylvia Courtney had a bit to say about a toad ugly and venomous which yet + wears a precious jewel in his head. I’d say he’s just the opposite. If + there is a precious jewel—and there may be—it’s not in his + head. Anyhow one great comfort is that he doesn’t remember spraining your + ankle.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, who recollected Lord Torrington with disagreeable distinctness, did + not find any great comfort in being totally forgotten. He would have + liked, though he scarcely expected, some expression of regret that the + accident had occurred. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be all the easier,” said Priscilla, “to pay him back if he hasn’t + any suspicion that we have an undying vendetta against him. I rather like + vendettas, don’t you? There’s something rather noble in the idea of + pursuing a man with implacable vengeance from generation to generation.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t quite see,” said Frank, “what good a vendetta is. We can’t do + anything while he’s in your father’s house. It wouldn’t be right.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Priscilla, “well score off him. For the immediate + present we’ve got to wait and watch his every movement with glittering + eyes and cynical smiles concealed behind our ingenuous brows. You needn’t + say ‘ingenuous’ isn’t a real word, because it is. I put it in an English + comp. last term and got full marks, which shows that it must be a good + word.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla was right in supposing that she would not be allowed to dine in + the dining-room. Frank faced the banquet without her support. It was not a + very pleasant meal for him. Lady Torrington shook hands with him and asked + him whether he were the boy whom she had heard reciting a prize poem on + the last Speech Day at Winchester. Frank told her that he was at + Haileybury. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it might have been you,” said Lady Torrington, “because I seem + to remember your face. I must have seen you somewhere, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She took no further notice of him during dinner. Lord Torrington took no + notice of him at all. The dinner was long and, in spite of the fact that + he had a good appetite, Frank did not enjoy himself. He was extremely glad + when Lady Torrington and Miss Lentaigne left the dining-room. He was + casting about for a convenient excuse for escape when Sir Lucius spoke to + him. + </p> + <p> + “You and Priscilla were out on the bay all day, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Frank, “we started early and sailed about.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you’ll be able to give us some information then,” said Sir + Lucius. “Shall I ask him a few questions, Torrington? The police sergeant + said——” + </p> + <p> + “The police sergeant is a damned fool,” said Lord Torrington. “She can’t + be going about in a boat. She doesn’t know how to row.” + </p> + <p> + “Frank,” said Sir Lucius, “did you and Priscilla happen to see anything of + a young lady——” + </p> + <p> + “You may just as well tell him the story,” said Lord Torrington. “It’ll be + in the papers in a day or two if we can’t find her.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Torrington. Just as you like. The fact is, Frank, that Lord + Torrington is here looking for his daughter, who has——well, a + week ago she disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappeared!” said Lord Torrington. “Why not say bolted?” + </p> + <p> + “Ran away from home,” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + “According to your aunt——” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “She’s not my aunt,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, isn’t she?” Lord Torrington’s tone suggested that this was a distinct + advantage to Frank. “According to Miss Lentaigne then, the girl has + asserted her right to live her own life untrammelled by the fetters of + conventionality. That’s the way she put it, isn’t it, Lentaigne?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel,” said Sir Lucius, “came over to Ireland. We know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Booked her luggage in advance from Euston,” said Lord Torrington, “under + another name. I had a detective on the job, and he worried that out. Women + are all going mad nowadays; though I had no notion Isabel went in for—well, + the kind of thing your sister talks, Lentaigne. I thought she was + religious. She used to be perpetually going to church, evensong on the + Vigil of St. Euphrosyne, and that kind of thing, but I am told lots of + parsons now have taken up these advanced ideas about women. It may have + been in church she heard them.” + </p> + <p> + “From Dublin,” said Sir Lucius, “she came on here. The police sergeant——” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s a dunderheaded fool,” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “He says there’s a young lady going about the bay for the last two days in + a boat.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the wrong tack altogether,” said Lord Torrington. “Isabel would + never think of going in a boat. I tell you she can’t row.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Frank,” said Sir Lucius, “did you see or hear anything of her?” + </p> + <p> + Frank would have liked very much to deny that he had seen any lady. His + dislike of Lord Torrington was strong in him. He had been snubbed in the + train, injured while leaving the steamer, and actually insulted that very + afternoon. He felt, besides, the strongest sympathy with any daughter who + ran away from a home ruled by Lord and Lady Torrington. But he had been + asked a straight question and it was not in him to tell a lie + deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “We did meet a lady,” he said, “in fact we lunched with her today, but her + name was Rutherford.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she rowing about alone in a boat?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “She had a boy to row her,” said Frank. “She’d hired the boat. She said + she came from the British Museum and was collecting sponges.” + </p> + <p> + “Sponges!” said Sir Lucius. “How could she collect sponges here, and what + does the British Museum want sponges for?” + </p> + <p> + “They weren’t exactly sponges,” said Frank, “they were zoophytes.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just possible,” said Lord Torrington, “that she might—Sponges, + you say? I don’t know what would put sponges into her head. But, of + course, she had to say something. What was she like to look at?” + </p> + <p> + “She had a dark blue dress,” said Frank, “and was tallish.” + </p> + <p> + “Fuzzy fair hair?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t remember her hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Slim?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d call Miss Rutherford fat,” said Frank. “At least, she’s decidedly + stout.” + </p> + <p> + “Not her,” said Lord Torrington. “Nobody could call Isabel fat. That + police sergeant of yours is a fool, Lentaigne. I always said he was. If + Isabel is in this neighbourhood at all she’s living in some country inn.” + </p> + <p> + “The sergeant said he’d make inquiries about the lady he mentioned,” said + Sir Lucius. “We shall hear more about her tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “She had a Primus stove with her,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “That’s no help,” said Lord Torrington. “Anybody might have a Primus + stove.” + </p> + <p> + “She said she’d borrowed it from Professor Wilder,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil is Professor Wilder?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s doing the rotifers,” said Frank. “At least Miss Rutherford said he + was. I don’t know who he is.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not Isabel,” said Lord Torrington. “She wouldn’t have the + intelligence to invent a professor who collected rotifers. I don’t suppose + she ever heard of rotifers. I never did. What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Insects, I fancy,” said Sir Lucius. “I daresay Priscilla would know. + Shall I send for her?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lord Torrington. “I don’t care what rotifers are. Let’s finish + our cigars outside, Lentaigne. It’s infernally hot.” + </p> + <p> + Frank had finished his cigarette. He had no wish to spend any time beyond + what was absolutely necessary in Lord Torrington’s company. He felt sure + that Lord Torrington would insist on walking briskly up and down when he + got outside. Frank could not walk briskly, even with the aid of two + sticks. He made up his mind to hobble off in search of Priscilla. He found + her, after some painful journeyings, in a most unlikely place. She was + sitting in the long gallery with Lady Torrington and Miss Lentaigne. The + two ladies reclined in easy chairs in front of an open window. There were + several partially smoked cigarettes in a china saucer on the floor beside + Miss Lentaigne. Lady Torrington was fanning herself with a slow motion + which reminded Frank of the way in which a tiger, caged in a zoological + garden, switches its tail after being fed. Priscilla sat in the background + under a lamp. She had chosen a straight-backed chair which stood opposite + a writing table. She sat bolt upright in it with her hands folded on her + lap and her left foot crossed over her right. Her face wore a look of + slightly puzzled, but on the whole intelligent interest; such as a humble + dependent might feel while submitting to instruction kindly imparted by + some very eminent person. She wore a white frock, trimmed with embroidery, + of a perfectly simple kind. She had a light blue sash round her waist. Her + hair, which was very sleek, was tied with a light blue ribbon. Round her + neck, on a third light blue ribbon, much narrower than either of the other + two, hung a tiny gold locket shaped like a heart. She turned as Frank + entered the room and met his gaze of astonishment with a look of extreme + innocence. Her eyes made him think for a moment of those of a lamb, a + puppy or other young animal which is half-frightened, half-curious at the + happening of something altogether outside of its previous experience. + </p> + <p> + Neither of the ladies at the window took any notice of Frank’s entrance. + He hobbled across the room and sat down beside Priscilla. She got up at + once and, without looking at him, walked demurely to the chair on which + Miss Lentaigne was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Aunt Juliet,” she said, “may I go to bed? I think it’s time.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lentaigne looked at her a little doubtfully. She had known Priscilla + for many years and had learned to be particularly suspicious of meekness. + </p> + <p> + “I heard the stable clock strike,” said Priscilla. “It’s half-past nine.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Miss Lentaigne. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla kissed her aunt lightly on her left cheek bone. Then she held + out her hand to Lady Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “You may kiss me,” said the lady. “You seem to be a very quiet well + behaved little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla kissed Lady Torrington and then passed on to Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Cousin Frank,” she said. “I hope you’re not tired after being + out in the boat, and I hope your ankle will be better tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes still had an expression of cherubic innocence; but just as she + let go Frank’s hand she winked abruptly. He found as she turned away, that + she had left something in his hand. He unfolded a small, much crumpled + piece of blotting paper, taken, he supposed, by stealth from the writing + table beside Priscilla’s chair. A note was scratched with a point of a pin + on the blotting paper. + </p> + <p> + “Come to the shrubbery, ten sharp. Most important. Excuse scratching. No + pencil.” + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla,” said Lady Torrington, “is a sweet child, very subdued and + modest.” + </p> + <p> + Frank’s attention was arrested by the silvery sweetness of the tone in + which she spoke. He had a feeling that she meant to convey to Miss + Lentaigne something more than her words implied. Miss Lentaigne struck a + match noisily and lit another cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “She may be a little wanting in animation,” said Lady Torrington, “but + that is a fault which one can forgive nowadays when so many girls run into + the opposite extreme and become self-assertive.” + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla,” said Miss Lentaigne, “is not always quite so good as she was + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be quite pleased that she isn’t,” said Lady Torrington, with a + deliberate, soft smile. “With your ideas about the independence of our sex + I can quite understand that Priscilla, if she were always as quiet and + gentle as she was this evening, would be trying, very trying.” + </p> + <p> + Frank became acutely uncomfortable. He had entered the room noisily + enough, hobbling on his two sticks; but neither lady seemed to be aware of + his presence. He began to feel as if he were eavesdropping, listening to a + conversation which he was not intended to hear. He hesitated for a moment, + wondering whether he ought to say a formal good-night, or get out of the + room as quietly as he could without calling attention to his presence. + Miss Lentaigne’s next remark decided him. + </p> + <p> + “Your own daughter,” she said, “seems to have imbibed some of our more + modern ideas. That must be a trial to you, Lady Torrington.” + </p> + <p> + Frank got up and made his way out of the room without speaking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + To reach the corner of the shrubbery it was necessary to cross the lawn. + Lord Torrington and Sir Lucius, having lit fresh cigars, were pacing up + and down in earnest conversation. Frank hobbled across their path and + received a kindly greeting from his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Frank, out for a breath of fresh air before turning in? Sorry you + can’t join our march. Lord Torrington is just talking about your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Uncle Lucius,” said Frank, “but I can’t walk. There’s a hammock + chair in the corner. I’ll sit there for a while and smoke another + cigarette.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius and Lord Torrington walked briskly, turning each time they + reached the edge of the grass and walking briskly back again. Frank + realised that Priscilla, if she was to keep her appointment, must cross + their track. He watched anxiously for her appearance. The stable clock + struck ten. In the shadow of the verandah in front of the dining-room + window Frank fancied he saw a moving figure. Sir Lucius and Lord + Torrington crossed the lawn again. Half-way across they were exactly + opposite the dining-room window, A few steps further on and the direct + line between the window and a corner of the shrubbery lay behind them. + Priscilla seized the most favourable moment for her passage. Just as the + two men reached the point at which their backs were turned to the line of + her crossing she darted forward. Half-way across she seemed to trip, + hesitated for a moment and then ran on. Before the walkers reached their + place of turning she was safe in a laurel bush beside Frank’s chair. + </p> + <p> + “My shoe,” she whispered. “It came off slap in the middle of the lawn. I + always knew those were perfectly beastly shoes. It was Sylvia Courtney + made me buy them, though I told her at the time they’d never stick on, and + what good are shoes if they don’t. Now they are sure to see it; though + perhaps they won’t. If they don’t I can make another dart and get it.” + </p> + <p> + To avoid all risk of the loss of the second shoe Priscilla took it off + before she started. Lord Torrington and Sir Lucius crossed the lawn again. + It seemed as if one or other of them must tread on the shoe which lay on + their path; but they passed it by. Priscilla seized her chance, rushed to + the middle of the lawn and returned again successfully. Then she and Frank + retreated, for the sake of greater security, into the middle of the + shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + “Everything’s all right,” said Priscilla. “I’ve got lots and lots of food + stored away. I simply looted the dishes as they were brought out of the + dining-room. Fried fish, a whole roast duck, three herrings’ roes on + toast, half a caramel pudding—I squeezed it into an old jam pot—and + several other things. We can start at any hour we like tomorrow and it + won’t in the least matter whether Brannigan’s is open or not. What do you + say to 6 a.m.?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going on the bay tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You must. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I want to score off that old beast who sprained my ankle.” + </p> + <p> + The prefect in Frank had entirely disappeared. Two days of close + companionship with Priscilla erased the marks made on his character by + four long years of training at Haileybury. His respect for constituted + authorities had vanished. The fact that Lord Torrington was Secretary of + State for War did not weigh on him for an instant. He was, as indeed boys + ought to be at seventeen years of age, a primitive barbarian. He was + filled with a desire for revenge on the man who had insulted and injured + him. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know,” he said, “what Lord Torrington is here for.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I do,” said Priscilla. “I’m not quite an ass. I was listening to + Aunt Juliet and Lady Torrington shooting barbed arrows at each other after + dinner. Aunt Juliet got rather the worst of it, I must say. Lady + Torrington is one of those people whose garments smell of myrrh, aloes and + cassia, and yet whose words are very swords; you know the sort I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington is chasing his daughter,” said Frank, “who has run away + from home. I vote we find her first and then help her to hide.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. That’s what we’re going to do. That’s why we’re going off in + the boat tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But she’s not on the bay,” said Frank. “Miss Rutherford is too fat to be + her. He said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s talking about Miss Rutherford? She’s simply sponge-hunting. Nobody + but a fool would think she was Miss Torrington.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel,” said Frank. “He’s a marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow she’s not the escaped daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Then who is?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady spy, of course. Any one could see that at a glance.” + </p> + <p> + “But she has a man with her. Lord Torrington said—” + </p> + <p> + “If you can call that thing a man,” said Priscilla, “she has. That’s her + husband. She’s run away with him and got married surreptitiously, like + young Lochinvar. People do that sort of thing, you know. I can’t imagine + where the fun comes in; but it’s quite common, so I suppose it must be + considered pleasant. Anyhow Sylvia Courtney says that English literature + is simply stock full of most beautiful poems about people who do it; all + more or less true, so there must be some attraction.” + </p> + <p> + Frank made no reply. Priscilla’s theory was new to him. It seemed to have + a certain plausibility. He wanted to think it over before committing + himself to accepting it. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a thing I’d care to do myself,” said Priscilla. “But then people + are so different. What strikes me as rather idiotic may be sweeter than + butter in the mouth to somebody else. You never can tell beforehand. + Anyhow we can count on Aunt Juliet as a firm ally. She can’t go back on us + on account of her principles.” + </p> + <p> + This was another new idea to Frank. He began to feel slightly bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “The one thing she’s really keen on just at present,” said Priscilla, “is + that women should assert their independence and not be mere tame parasites + in gilded cages. That’s what she said to Lady Torrington anyhow. So of + course she’s bound to help us all she can, so long as she doesn’t know + that they’re married, and nobody does know that yet except you and me. Not + that I’d be inclined to trust Aunt Juliet unless we have to; but it’s a + comfort to know she’s there if the worst comes to the worst.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you intend to do?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Find them first. If we start off early tomorrow well probably get to + Curraunbeg before they’re up. My idea would be to hand over the young man + to Miss Rutherford for a day or two. She’s sure to be somewhere about and + when she understands the circumstances she won’t mind pretending that he, + the original spy, I mean, is her husband, just for a while, until the + first rancour of the pursuit has died away. She strikes me as an awfully + good sort who won’t mind. She may even like it. Some people love being + married. I can’t imagine why; but they do. Anyhow I don’t expect there’ll + be any difficulty about that part of the programme. We’ll simply tranship + him, tent and all, into Jimmy Kinsella’s boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see the good of doing all that,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Why not——?” + </p> + <p> + “The good of it is this. We must keep Aunt Juliet on our side in case of + accidents. She’s got a most acute mind and will throw all kinds of + obstacles in the way of the pursuers. As long as she thinks that Miss + Torrington—Lady Isabel, I mean—is really going in for leading + a beautiful scarlet kind of life of her own; but if she once finds out + that she’s gone and got married to a man, any man, even one who can’t + manage a boat, she’ll be keener than any one else to have her dragged + back.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to do with her?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll plant her down on Inishbawn. That’s the safest place in the whole + bay for her to be. Of course Joseph Antony Kinsella will object; but we’ll + make him see that it’s his duty to succor the oppressed, and anyhow we’ll + land her there and leave her. I don’t exactly know what it is that they’re + doing on that island, though I can guess. But whatever it is you may bet + your hat they won’t let Lord Torrington or the police or any one of that + kind within a mile of it. If once we get her there she’s safe from her + enemies. Every man, woman and child in the neighbourhood will combine to + keep that sanctuary—bother! there’s a word which exactly expresses + what a sanctuary is kept; but I’ve forgotten what it is. I came across it + once in a book and looked it out in the dict. to see what it meant. It’s + used about sanctuaries and secrets. Do you remember what it is?” + </p> + <p> + Frank did not give his mind to the question. He was thinking, with some + pleasure, of the baffled rage of Lord Torrington when he was not allowed + to land on Inishbawn. Lady Isabel would be plainly visible sitting at the + door of her tent on the green slope of the island. Lord Torrington, with + violent language bursting from him, would approach the island in a boat, + anticipating a triumphant capture. But Joseph Antony Kinsella would sally + like a rover from his anchorage and tow Lord Torrington’s boat off to some + distant place. With invincible determination the War Lord would return + again. From every inhabited island in the bay would issue boats, + Flanagan’s old one among them. They would surround Lord Torrington, hustle + and push him away. Children from cottage doors would jeer at him. Peter + Walsh and Patsy, the drunken smith, would add their taunts to the chorus + when at last, baffled and despairing, he landed at the quay. The vision + was singularly attractive. Frank ran his hand over his bandaged ankle and + smiled with joy. + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s used of secrets as well as sanctuaries,” said Priscilla, + “because Aunt Juliet used to say it about the Confessional when she was + thinking of being a Roman Catholic. I told you about that, didn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Frank. “But will they be able to stop him landing, really?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they will. That was one of the worst times we ever had with + Aunt Juliet. Father simply hated it, expecting the blow to fall every day, + especially after she took to fasting frightfully hard with finnan + haddocks. That was just after the time she was tremendously down on all + religion and wouldn’t let him have prayers in the morning, which he didn’t + mind as much; though, of course, he pretended. Fortunately she found out + about uric acid just before she actually did the deed, so that was all + right. It always is in the end, you know. That’s one of the really good + points about Aunt Juliet. All the same I wish I could remember that word.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t quite see,” said Frank, “how they’ll stop him landing on + Inishbawn if he wants to.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I; but they will. If Peter Walsh and Joseph Antony Kinsella and + Flanagan and Patsy the smith—they’re all in the game, whatever it is—if + they determine not to let him land on Inishbawn he won’t land there.” + </p> + <p> + “But even if they keep him off for a day or two they can’t for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Priscilla, “he can’t stay here for ever either. There’s sure + to be a war soon and then he’ll jolly well have to go back to London and + see after it. You told me it was his business to look after wars, so of + course he must. Now that we’ve got everything settled I’ll sneak off again + and get to bed. If I recollect that word during the night I’ll write it + down.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla, leaving Frank to make his own way back to the house as best he + could, crept through the laurel bushes to the edge of the lawn. Lord + Torrington and Sir Lucius had gone indoors. She could see them through the + open window of the long gallery. She stole carefully across the lawn and + entered the house by way of the dining-room window. She went very quietly + to her bedroom. Before undressing she opened her wardrobe, lifted out two + dresses which lay folded on a shelf and took out the store of provisions + which she had secured at dinner time. She wrapped up the duck and the fish + in paper, nice white paper taken from the bottoms of the drawers in her + dressing table. The herrings’ roes on toast, originally a savoury, she put + in the bottom of the soap dish and tied a piece of paper over the top of + it. The caramel pudding rather overflowed the jam pot. It was impossible + to press it down below the level of the rim. Priscilla sliced off the + bulging excess of it with the handle of her tooth brush and dropped it + into her mouth. Then she tied some paper over the top of the jam pot, and + wrote, “pudding” across it with a blue pencil. The remainder of her spoil—some + rolls, two artichokes and a sweetbread—she wrapped up together. + </p> + <p> + Then she undressed and got into bed. Half an hour later she woke suddenly. + Without a moment’s hesitation she got out of bed and lit a candle. The + blue pencil was still lying on top of the jam pot which stood on the + dressing table. Priscilla took it, and to avoid all possibility of mistake + in the morning, wrote word “inviolable” on every one of her parcels. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + It was ten o’clock in the forenoon. Peter Walsh, having breakfasted, + strolled down the street towards the quay. When he reached it he surveyed + the boats which lay there with a long, deliberate stare. The <i>Blue + Wanderer</i> was at her moorings. The <i>Tortoise</i>, with a new iron on + her rudder, had gone out at seven o’clock. There were three boats from the + islands and one large hooker lying at the quay. Peter Walsh made quite + sure that there was nothing which called for comment or investigation in + the appearance of any of these. Then he lit his pipe and took his seat on + one of the windows of Brannigan’s shop. Four out of the six habitués of + this meeting place were already seated. Peter Walsh made the fifth. The + sixth man had not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + At half past ten Timothy Sweeny left his shop and walked down to the quay. + Timothy Sweeny, though not the richest, was the most important man in + Rosnacree. His public house was in a back street and the amount of + business which he did was insignificant compared to that done by + Brannigan. But he was a politician of great influence and had been made a + Justice of the Peace by a government anxious to popularise the + administration of the law in Ireland. The law itself, as was recognised on + all sides, could not possibly be made to command the respect of any one; + but it was hoped that it might excite less active hostility if it were + modified to suit the public convenience by men like Sweeny who had some + personal experience of the unpleasantness of the penalties which it + ordained. + </p> + <p> + It was seldom that Timothy Sweeny left his shop. He was a man of corpulent + figure and flabby muscles. He disliked the smell of fresh air and walking + was a trouble to him. The five loafers on Brannigan’s window sills looked + at him with some amazement when he approached them. + </p> + <p> + “Is Peter Walsh here?” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “I am here,” said Peter Walsh. “Where else would I be?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d be glad,” said Sweeny, “if you’d step up to my house with me for two + minutes the way I could speak to you without the whole town listening to + what we’re saying.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh rose from his seat with quiet dignity and followed Sweeny up + the street. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll take a sup of porter,” said Sweeny, when they reached the bar of + the public house. + </p> + <p> + Peter finished the half pint which was offered to him at a draught. + </p> + <p> + “They tell me,” said Sweeny, “that the police sergeant was up at the big + house again this morning. I don’t know if it’s true but it’s what they’re + after telling me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Peter. “I’ll say that much for whoever it was that told + you. It’s true enough. The sergeant was off last night after dark. He + thinks he’s damned smart that sergeant, and it was after dark he went the + way nobody would see him; but he was seen, for Patsy the smith was on the + side of the road, mortal sick after the way that Joseph Antony Kinsella + made him turn to making a rudder iron and him as drunk at the time as any + man ever you seen. It was him told me about the sergeant and where he went + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Sweeny, “and what did he tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “He told me that the sergeant went along the road till he met with the + gentleman that does be going about the country and has the two ladies with + him, the one of them that might be his wife and the other has Jimmy + Kinsella engaged to row her round the bay while she’d be bathing.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s too many going round the country and the bay and that’s a fact. + We could do with less.” + </p> + <p> + “We could, surely. But there’s no harm in them ones. What the sergeant + said to the gentleman Patsy the smith couldn’t hear but it was maybe half + an hour after when the sergeant went home again and he had a look on him + like a man that was middling well satisfied. Patsy the smith saw him for + he was in the ditch when he passed, terrible sick, retching the way he + thought the whole of his liver would be out on the road before he’d done. + Well, there was no more happened last night; but it wasn’t more than nine + o’clock this morning before that same sergeant was off up to the big house + and I wouldn’t wonder but it was to tell the strange gentleman that’s + there whatever it was he heard him last night. He had that kind of a look + about him anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like the way things is going on,” said Sweeny. “What is it that’s + up at the big house at all?” + </p> + <p> + “They tell me,” said Walsh, “that he’s a mighty high up gentleman whoever + he is.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be, but I’d be glad if I knew what he’s doing here, for I don’t + like the looks of him.” + </p> + <p> + Patsy the smith, pallid after the experience of the night before, walked + into the shop. + </p> + <p> + “If Peter Walsh is there,” he said, “the sergeant is down about the quay + looking for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You better go to him,” said Sweeny, “and mind now what you say to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll not say much,” said Patsy the smith, “for he’ll have you whipped + off into one of the cells in the barrack before you’ve time to speak. He’s + terrible determined.” + </p> + <p> + Patsy’s face was yellow—a witness to the fact that his liver was + still in him—and he was inclined to take a pessimistic view of life. + Peter Walsh paid no attention to his prophecy. Sweeny looked anxious. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant was standing outside the door of Brannigan’s shop. He + accosted Peter Walsh as soon as he caught sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lucius bid me tell you,” he said, “that you’re to have the <i>Tortoise</i> + ready for him at twelve o’clock, and that his lordship will be going with + him, so he won’t be needing you in the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “It would fail me to do that,” said Peter, “for she’s out, Miss Priscilla + and the young gentleman with the sore leg has her.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Lucius was partly in doubt,” said the sergeant, “but it might be the + way you say, for I told him myself that the boat was gone. But his + lordship wouldn’t be put off, and you’re to hire another boat.” + </p> + <p> + “What boat?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Joseph Antony Kinsella’s he mentioned,” said the sergeant, “when I + told him it was likely he’d be in with another load of gravel. But sure + one boat’s as good as another so long as it is a boat. His lordship + wouldn’t be turned aside from going.” + </p> + <p> + “Them ones,” said Peter Walsh, “must have their own way whatever happens. + It’s pleasure sailing they’re for, I’m thinking, among the islands?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be,” said the sergeant “I didn’t ask.” + </p> + <p> + “You could guess though.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I could, do you think I’d tell you? It’s too fond of asking + questions you are, Peter Walsh, about what doesn’t concern you.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant turned his back and walked away. Peter Walsh watched him + enter the barrack. Then he himself went back to Sweeny’s shop. + </p> + <p> + “They’re wanting a boat,” he said. “Joseph Antony Kinsella’s or another.” + </p> + <p> + “And what for?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless it’s to go out to Inishbawn,” said Peter, “I don’t know what for.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedamn then,” said Sweeny, “there’s no boat for them.” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking that myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t wonder,” said Sweeney, “but something might stop Joseph Antony + Kinsella from coming in today after all, thought he’s due with another + load of gravel.” + </p> + <p> + “He mightn’t come,” said Patsy the smith. “There’s many a thing could + happen to prevent him.” + </p> + <p> + “What time were they thinking of starting?” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve o’clock,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Patsy,” said Sweeny, “let you take Brannigan’s old punt and go down as + far as the stone perch to try can you see Joseph Antony Kinsella coming + in.” + </p> + <p> + Patsy the smith was in a condition of great physical misery; but the + occasion demanded energy and self-sacrifice. He staggered down to the + slip, loosed the mooring rope of Brannigan’s dilapidated punt and drove + her slowly down the harbour, waggling one oar over her stern. + </p> + <p> + “Let you go round the town,” said Sweeny to Peter Walsh, “and find out + where the fellows is that came in with the boats that’s at the quay this + minute. It’s time they were off out of this.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh left the shop. In a minute or two he came back again. + </p> + <p> + “There’s Miss Priscilla’s boat,” he said, “the <i>Blue Wanderer</i>. + You’re forgetting her.” + </p> + <p> + “They’d never venture as far as Inishbawn in her,” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “They might then. The wind’s east and she’d run out easy enough under the + little lug.” + </p> + <p> + “They’d have to row back.” + </p> + <p> + “The likes of them ones,” said Peter Walsh, “wouldn’t think about how + they’d get back till the time came. I’m uneasy about that boat, so I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this now,” said Sweeny, after a moment’s consideration. “Did the + young lady say e’er a word to you about giving the boat a fresh lick of + paint?” + </p> + <p> + “She did not. Why would she? Amn’t I just after painting the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure now she didn’t say she’d be the better of another coat?” + </p> + <p> + “She might then, some time that I wouldn’t be paying much attention to + what she said. I’m a terrible one to disremember things anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “You’d better do it then,” said Sweeny. “There’s plenty of the same paint + you had before in Brannigan’s, and it will do the boat no harm to get a + lick with it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh left the shop again and walked in a careless way down the + street. Sweeny followed him at a little distance and spoke to the men who + were sitting on Brannigan’s window sills. They rose at once and walked + down to the slip. In a few minutes the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> was dragged + from her moorings and carried up to a glassy patch of waste land at the + end of the quay. Her floor boards were taken out of her, her oars, rudder + and mast were laid on the grass. The boat herself was turned bottom + upwards. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the next half hour the owners of the boats which lay + alongside the quay sauntered down one by one. Brown lugsails were run up + on the smaller boats. The mainsail of the hooker was slowly hoisted. At + half past eleven there was not a single boat of any kind left afloat in + the harbour. Peter Walsh, his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, was + laying long stripes of green paint on the already shining bottom of the + Blue Wanderer. He worked with the greatest zeal and earnestness. Timothy + Sweeny looked at the empty harbour with satisfaction. Then he went back to + the shop and dosed comfortably behind his bar. + </p> + <p> + Patsy the smith stood in the stern of the punt and waggled his oar with + force and skill. He disliked taking this kind of exercise very much + indeed. His nature craved for copious, cooling drafts of porter, drawn + straight from the cask and served in large thick tumblers. He had intended + to spend the morning in taking this kind of refreshment. The day was + exceedingly hot. When he reached the end of the quay his mouth was quite + dry inside and his legs were shaking under him. He looked round with eyes + which were strikingly bloodshot. There was no sign of Joseph Antony + Kinsella’s boat on the long stretch of water between him and the stone + perch. If he could have articulated at all he would have sworn. Being + unable to swear he groaned deeply and took his oar again. The punt wobbled + forward very much as a fat duck walks. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Delgipish he looked round again. A mile out beyond the + stone perch he saw a boat moving slowly towards him. His eyes served him + badly and although he could see the splash of the oars in the water he + could not make out who the rower was. A man of weaker character, suffering + the same physical torture, would have allowed himself to drift on the + shore of Delginish and there would have awaited the coming of the boat he + had seen. But Patsy the smith was brave. He was also nerved by the extreme + importance of his mission. It was absolutely necessary that something + should happen to prevent Joseph Antony bringing his boat to Rosnacree + harbour. The sight of one brown sail and then another stealing round the + end of the quay gave him fresh courage. Timothy Sweeny and Peter Walsh had + done their work on shore. He was determined not to fail in carrying + through his part of a masterly scheme. + </p> + <p> + For twenty minutes Patsy the smith sculled on. It seemed to him sometimes + as if each sway of his body, each tug of his tired arms must be the last + possible. Yet he succeeded in going on. He dared not look round lest the + boat he had seen should prove after all not to be the one he sought. Such + a disappointment would, he knew, be more than he could bear. At last the + splash of oars reached his ears and he heard himself hailed by name. The + voice was Kinsella’s. The relief was too much for Patsy. He sat down on + the thwart behind him and was violently sick. Kinsella laid his boat + alongside the punt and looked calmly at his friend. Not until the worst + spasms were over did he speak. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, Patsy,” he said, “it must have been a terrible drenching you gave + yourself last night, and the stuff was good too, as good as ever I seen. + What has you in the state you’re in at all?” + </p> + <p> + The sickness had to some extent revived Patsy the smith. He was able to + speak, though with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Go back out of that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And why would I go back?” + </p> + <p> + “Timothy Sweeny says you’re to go back, for if you come in to the quay + today there’ll be the devil and all if not worse.” + </p> + <p> + “If that’s the way of it I will go back; but I’d be glad, so I would, if I + knew what Sweeny means by it. It’s a poor thing to be breaking my back + rowing a boatload of gravel all the way from Inishbawn and then to be told + to turn round and go back; and just now too, when the wind has dropped and + it’s beginning to look mighty black over to the eastward.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re to go back,” said Patsy, “because the strange gentleman that’s up + at the big house is wanting your boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him want!” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll get it, if so be that you go in to the quay, and when he has it the + first thing he’ll do is to go out to Inishbawn. It’s there he wants to be + and it’s yourself knows best what he’d find if he got there. Go back, I + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll take my advice,” said Kinsella, “you will go back yourself. + There’s thunder beyond there coming up, and there’ll be a breeze setting + towards it from the west before another ten minutes is over our heads. I + don’t know will you care for that in the state you’re in this minute, with + that old punt and only one oar. The tide’ll be running strong against the + breeze and there’ll be a kick-up at the stone perch.” + </p> + <p> + Patsy the smith saw the wisdom of this advice. Tired as he was he seized + his one oar and began sculling home. Kinsella watched him go and then did + a peculiar thing. He took the shovel which lay amidships in his boat and + began to heave his cargo of gravel into the sea. As he worked a faint + breeze from the west rose, fanned him and died away. Another succeeded it + and then another. Kinsella looked round him. The four boats which had + drifted out from the quay before the easterly breeze of the morning, had + hauled in their sheets. They were awaiting a wind from the west. The heavy + purple thunder cloud was rapidly climbing the sky. Kinsella shovelled hard + at his gravel. His boat, lightened of her load, rose in the water, showing + inch by inch more free board. A steady breeze from the west succeeded the + light occasional puffs. It increased in strength. The four boats inside + him stooped to it. They sped across and across the channel towards the + stone perch in short tacks. Kinsella hoisted his sail and took the tiller. + The boat swung up into the wind and coursed away to the south west, close + hauled to a stiff west wind. The thunder cloud burst over Rosnacree. + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius and Lord Torrington drove into the town and pulled up in front + of Brannigan’s shop at a quarter to twelve. They looked round the empty + harbour in some surprise. Sir Lucius went at once into the shop. Lord + Torrington, being an Englishman with a proper belief in the forces of law + and order, walked a few yards back and entered the police barracks. + </p> + <p> + “Brannigan,” said Sir Lucius, “where’s my boat? and where’s that ruffian + Peter Walsh?” + </p> + <p> + “Your boat, is it?” said Brannigan. + </p> + <p> + “I sent down word to Peter Walsh to have her ready for me at twelve, or, + if my daughter had taken her out——” + </p> + <p> + “It would be better,” said Brannigan, “if you were to see Peter Walsh + yourself. Sure I don’t know what’s happened to your boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Peter Walsh?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s down at the end of the quay putting an extra coat of paint on Miss + Priscilla’s boat. I don’t know what sense there is in doing the like, but + of course he wouldn’t care to go contrary to what the young lady might + say.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius left the shop abruptly. At the door he ran into Lord Torrington + and the police sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “Damn it all, Lentaigne,” said Lord Torrington, “how are we going to get + out?” + </p> + <p> + “There was boats in it,” said the police sergeant, “plenty of them, when I + gave your lordship’s message to Peter Walsh.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they now?” said Lord Torrington. “What’s the good of telling me + they were here when they’re not?” + </p> + <p> + The police sergeant looked cautiously round. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t say,” he said at last, “but they’re gone out of it, every one + of the whole lot of them.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh, his paint brush in his hand, and an expression of respectful + regret, on his face, came up to Sir Lucius and touched his hat. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the meaning of this?” said Sir Lucius. “Didn’t I send you word to + have a boat, either my own or some other, ready for me at twelve?” + </p> + <p> + “The message the sergeant gave me,” said Peter Walsh, “was to engage + Joseph Antony Kinsella’s boat for your honour if so be that Miss Priscilla + had your own took out.” + </p> + <p> + “And why the devil didn’t you?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “Because she’s not in it, your honour; nor hasn’t been this day. I was + waiting for her and the minute she came to the quay I’d have been in her, + helping Joseph Antony to shovel out the gravel the way she’d be fit for + two gentlemen like yourselves to go in her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no other boat to be got?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “Launch Miss Priscilla’s at once,” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + “Sure the paint’s wet on the bottom of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Launch her,” said Sir Lucius, “paint or not paint.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll launch her if your honour bids me,” said Peter Walsh. “But what use + will she be to you when she’s in the water? She’ll not work to windward + for you under the little lug that’s in her, and it’s from the west the + wind’s coming now.” + </p> + <p> + He looked round the sky as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to God!” he said. “Will you look at what’s coming. There’s + thunder in it and maybe worse.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius took Lord Torrington by the arm and led him out of earshot of + the police sergeant and Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “We’d better not go today, Torrington. There’s a thunder storm coming. + We’d simply get drenched.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care if I am drenched.” + </p> + <p> + “And besides we can’t go. There isn’t a boat. We couldn’t get anywhere in + that little thing of Priscilla’s. After all if she’s on an island today + she’ll be there tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “If that fool of a sergeant told us the truth this morning,” said Lord + Torrington, “and there’s some man with her I want to break every bone in + his body as soon as I can.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be there tomorrow,” said Sir Lucius, “and I’ll see that there’s a + boat here to take us out.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Priscilla and Frank left the quay at half past seven against a tide which + was still rising, but with a pleasant easterly breeze behind them. Once + past the stone perch Priscilla set the boat on her course for Craggeen and + gave the tiller to Frank. She herself pulled a spinnaker from beneath the + stern sheets and explained to Frank that when she had hoisted it the + boat’s speed would be considerably increased. Then she made him + uncomfortable by hitting him several times in different parts of the body + with a long spar which she called the spinnaker boom. + </p> + <p> + The setting of this sail struck Frank as an immensely complicated + business. He watched Priscilla working with a whole series of ropes and + admired her skill greatly, until it occurred to him that she was not very + sure of what she was doing. A rope, which she had made fast with some care + close beside him, had to be cast loose, carried forward, passed outside a + stay, and then made fast again. There appeared to be three corners to the + spinnaker, and all three were hooked turn about on the end of the boom. + Even when the third was unhooked again and the one which had been tried + first restored to its place Priscilla seemed a little dissatisfied with + the result. Another of the three corners was caught and held by the + clip-hooks on the end of the halliard. Priscilla moused these carefully, + explaining why she did so, and then found that she had to cut the mousing + and catch the remaining corner of the sail with the hooks. When at last + she triumphantly hoisted it the thing went up in a kind of bundle. Its own + sheet was wrapped round it twice, and a jib sheet which had somehow + wandered away from its proper place got twined round and round the boom + which remained immovable near the mast. Priscilla surveyed the result of + her work with a puzzled frown. Then she lowered the sail and turned to + Frank. + </p> + <p> + “I thoroughly understand spinnakers,” she said, “in theory. I don’t + suppose that there’s a single thing known about them that I don’t know. + But they’re beastly confusing things when you come to deal with them in + practical life. Lots of other things are like that. It’s exactly the same + with algebra. I expect I’ve told you that I simply loathe algebra. Well, + that’s the reason. I understand it all right, but when it comes to doing + it, it comes out just like that spinnaker. However it doesn’t really + matter. That’s the great comfort about most things. You get on quite well + enough without them, though of course you would get on better with, if you + could do them.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> did in fact slip along at a very satisfactory pace in + spite of the lightness of the wind. It was just half past eight when they + reached the mouth of the bay in which they had lunched the day before with + Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “I feel rather,” said Priscilla, “as if I could do with a little breakfast + There’s no use going on shore. Let’s anchor and eat what we want in the + boat.” + </p> + <p> + Frank who was very hungry agreed at once. He rounded the boat up into the + wind and Priscilla flung the anchor overboard. Then she picked her parcels + one by one from the folds of the spinnaker in which they had wrapped + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t do,” she said, “to eat everything today at the first go off the + way we did yesterday. Specially as we’ve promised to give Miss Rutherford + luncheon. The duck, for instance, had better be kept.” + </p> + <p> + She laid the duck down again and covered it, a little regretfully, with + the spinnaker. She took up the jampot which contained the caramel pudding. + Her face brightened as she looked at it. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Cousin Frank,” she said. “That word is inviolable.” + </p> + <p> + “That word?” + </p> + <p> + “The sanctuary and secret word,” said Priscilla. “Don’t you remember I + couldn’t get it last night. But I did after I went to sleep which was jolly + lucky. I hopped up at once and wrote it down. Now we know what Inishbawn + will be for Lady Torrington’s poor daughter when we get her there. All the + same I don’t think we’d better eat the caramel pudding at breakfast. It + mightn’t be wholesome for you at this hour—on account of your + sprained ankle, I mean, and not being accustomed to puddings at breakfast. + Besides I expect Miss Rutherford would rather like it. What do you say to + starting with an artichoke each?” + </p> + <p> + Frank was ready to start with anything that was given him. He ate the + artichoke greedily and felt hardly less hungry when he had finished it. + Priscilla too seemed unsatisfied. She said that they had perhaps made a + mistake in beginning with the artichokes. But her sense of duty and her + instinct for hospitality triumphed over her appetite. Feeling that + temptation might prove overpowering, she put the slices of cold fish out + of sight under the spinnaker with the remark that they ought to be kept + for Miss Rutherford. She and Frank ate the herrings’ roes on toast, the + sweetbread and one of the four rolls. Then though Frank still looked + hungry, Priscilla hoisted the foresail and hauled up the anchor. + </p> + <p> + They reached the passage past Craggeen when the tide was at the full and + threaded their way among the rocks successfully. They passed into the wide + water of Finilaun roads. A long reach lay before them and the wind had + begun to die down as the tide turned. Priscilla, leaving Frank to steer, + settled herself comfortably on the weather side of the boat between the + centreboard case and the gunwale. Far down to leeward another boat was + slipping across the roads towards the south. She had an old stained jib + and an obtrusively new mainsail which shone dazzlingly white in the sun. + Priscilla watched her with idle interest for some time. Then she announced + that she was Flanagan’s new boat. + </p> + <p> + “He bought the calico for the sail at Brannigan’s,” she said, “and made it + himself. Peter Walsh told me that. I’m bound to say it doesn’t sit badly; + but of course you can’t really tell about the sit of a sail when the + boat’s off the wind. I’d like to see it when she’s close-hauled. That’s + the way with lots of other things besides sails. I dare say now that Lord + Torrington is quite an agreeable sort of man when his daughter isn’t + running away.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure he’s not,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t be sure,” said Priscilla. “Nobody could, except of course Lady + Torrington and she doesn’t seem to me the sort of person who’s much cowed + in her own house. I wish you’d heard her going for Aunt Juliet last night, + most politely, but every word she said had what’s called in French a + ‘double entendre’ wrapped up in it. That means——” + </p> + <p> + “I know what it means,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right then. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t. I always heard + they rather despised French at boys’ schools, which is idiotic of course + and may not be true.” + </p> + <p> + Frank recollected a form master with whom, at one stage of his career at + school he used to study the adventures of the innocent Telemaque. This + gentleman refused to read aloud or allow his class to read aloud the text + of the book, alleging that no one who did not suffer from a malformation + of the mouth could pronounce French properly. Still even this master must + have attached some meaning to the phrase “double entendre,” though he + might not have used it in precisely Priscilla’s sense. + </p> + <p> + “Flanagan has probably been over to Curraunbeg,” said Priscilla, “to see + how his old boat is looking. After what Jimmy Kinsella is sure to have + told him about the way they’re treating her he’s naturally a bit anxious. + I wonder will he have the nerve to charge them anything extra at the end + for dilapidations. It’s curious now that we don’t see the tents on + Curraunbeg. I saw them yesterday from Craggeen. Perhaps they’ve moved + round to the other side of the island.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a boat coming out from behind the point now,” said Frank. + “Perhaps they’re moving again.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla leaned over the gunwale and stared long at the boat which Frank + pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a man and a woman in her,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not Flanagan’s old boat though,” said Priscilla. “I rather think + it’s Jimmy Kinsella. I hope Miss Rutherford hasn’t been hunting them on + her own, under the impression that they’re German spies. We oughtn’t to + have told her that. She’s so frightfully impulsive you can’t tell what + she’d do.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy Kinsella had recognised the <i>Tortoise</i> shortly after he rounded + the point of Curraunbeg. He dropped his lug sail and began to row up to + windward evidently meaning to get within speaking distance of Priscilla. + The boats approached each other at an angle. Miss Rutherford stood up in + the stern of hers, waved a pocket handkerchief and shouted. Priscilla + shouted in reply. Frank threw the <i>Tortoise</i> up into the wind and + Jimmy Kinsella pulled alongside. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve gone,” said Miss Rutherford. “They’ve escaped you again.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve frightened them away,” said Priscilla. “I wish you wouldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Rutherford, “I didn’t Honour bright! They’d gone before I + got there. The people on the island said they packed up early this morning + and when they saw Flanagan passing in his new boat they hailed him and got + him to take them off.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t that the boat we saw just now?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Priscilla. “Frightfully annoying, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Miss Rutherford. “I know where they’re gone. The people + on the island told me. To Inishminna. Wasn’t Inishminna the name, Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “It was, Miss.” + </p> + <p> + “Climb on board,” said Priscilla. “That is to say if you want to come. We + must be after them at once. We’ll follow Flanagan. Jimmy can row through + Craggeen passage and pick you up afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford tumbled from her own boat into the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks awfully,” she said. “I want to see you arrest those spies more + than anything.” + </p> + <p> + “They’re not spies,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “We never really thought they were,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is——” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + She stopped abruptly and looked round. Jimmy Kinsella was some distance + astern heading for Craggeen. He appeared to be quite out of earshot. + Nevertheless Priscilla lowered her voice to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “We’re on an errand of mercy,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Miss Rutherford, “not vengeance. I’m disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy is a much nicer thing,” said Priscilla, “besides being more + Christian.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same,” said Miss Rutherford, “I’m disappointed. Vengeance is far + more exciting.” + </p> + <p> + “To a certain extent,” said Priscilla, “we’re taking vengeance too. At + least Frank is, on account of his ankle you know. So you needn’t be + disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “That cheers me up a little,” said Miss Rutherford, “but do explain.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s quite simple really,” said Priscilla. “Though it may seem a little + complicated. You explain, Cousin Frank, and be sure to begin at the + beginning or she won’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington,” said Frank, “is Secretary of State for War, and his + daughter, Lady Isabel—but perhaps I’d better tell you first that as + I was coming over to Ireland I met——” + </p> + <p> + “‘Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,” said Priscilla, waving her hands + towards the sea, “‘this dark and stormy water?’” + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh I’m the chief of Ulva’s Isle, and this Lord Ullin’s daughter.’ You + know that poem, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve known it for years,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Well, thats it,” said Priscilla. “You have the whole thing now.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Miss Rutherford, “I see it all now, or almost all. This is + far better than spies. How did you ever think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s true,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington,” said Frank, “is over here stopping with my uncle, and + he came specially to find his daughter who’s run away.” + </p> + <p> + “‘One lovely hand stretched out for aid,’” said Priscilla, “‘and one was + round her lover.’ That’s what we want to avoid if we can. I call that an + errand of mercy. Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s far and away the most merciful errand I ever heard of,” said Miss + Rutherford. “But why don’t you hurry? At any moment now her father’s men + may reach the shore.” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t,” said Priscilla, “hurry any more than we are. The wind’s + dropping every minute. Luff her a little bit, Frank, or she won’t clear + the point. The tide’s taking us down, and that point runs out a terrific + distance.” + </p> + <p> + “The only thing I don’t quite see yet,” said Miss Rutherford, “is where + the vengeance comes in.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s to be taken on her father,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said Miss Rutherford, “as a matter of abstract justice; but + I rather gathered from the way you spoke, Priscilla, that Frank had some + kind of private feud with the old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “He shoved me off the end of the steamer’s gangway,” said Frank, “and + sprained my ankle. He has never so much as said he was sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Miss Rutherford. “Now our consciences are absolutely clear. + What we are going to do is to carry off the blushing bride to some distant + island.” + </p> + <p> + “Inishbawn,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> had slipped through the passage at the south end of + Finislaun. She was moving very slowly across another stretch of open + water. On her lee bow lay Inishbawn. The island differs from most others + in the bay in being twin. Instead of one there are two green mounds linked + together by a long ridge of grey boulders. Tides sweep furiously round the + two horns of it, but the water inside is calm and sheltered from any wind + except one from the south east. On the slope of the northern hill stands + the Kinsellas’ cottage, with certain patches of cultivated land around it. + The southern hill is bare pasture land roamed over by bullocks and a few + sheep which in stormy weather or night cross the stony isthmus to seek + companionship and shelter near the cottage. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that Inishbawn?” said Miss Rutherford. “Jimmy Kinsella told me it + was the day I first met you.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Priscilla, “that’s where we mean to put her.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not half far enough away,” said Miss Rutherford. “Lord Ullin or + Torrington or whatever lord it is will quite easily follow her there. We + must go much further, right out into the west to High Brasail, where + lovers are ever young and angry fathers do not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Inishbawn will do all right,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla says,” said Frank, “that the people won’t let Lord Torrington + land on Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “They certainly seemed to have some objection to letting any one land,” + said Miss Rutherford. “Every time I suggested going there Jimmy has headed + me off with one excuse or another.” + </p> + <p> + “They have very good reasons,” said Priscilla. “I have more or less idea + what they are; but of course I can’t tell you. It’s never right to tell + other people’s secrets unless you’re perfectly sure that you know them + yourself, and I’m not sure. You hardly ever can be unless you happen to be + one of the people that has the secret and in this case I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to ask embarrassing questions,” said Miss Rutherford, + “though I’m almost consumed with curiosity about the secret. But are you + quite sure that it’s of a kind that will really prevent Lord Torrington + landing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite absolutely, dead, cock sure,” said Priscilla. “If I’m right about + the secret and I think I am, though of course it’s quite possible that I + may not be, but if I am there isn’t a man about the bay who wouldn’t die a + thousand miserable deaths rather than let Lord Torrington and the police + sergeant land on that island.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all we’ve got to do,” said Miss Rutherford, “is to get her there and + she’s safe.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla hurriedly turned over the corner of the spinnaker and got out + the jam pot. She glanced at its paper cover. + </p> + <p> + “Inishbawn is an inviolable sanctuary,” she said. “What a mercy it is that + I wrote down that word last night. I had forgotten it again. It’s a + desperately hard word to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a very good word,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “It’s useful anyhow,” said Priscilla. “In fact, considering what we’re + going to do I don’t see how we could very well get on without it. I + suppose it’s rather too early to have luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s only half past eleven,” said Frank, “but——” + </p> + <p> + “I breakfasted early,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “We scarcely breakfasted at all,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Priscilla, “the wind’s gone hopelessly. It’s much too + hot to row, so I suppose we may as well have luncheon though it’s not the + proper time.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us shake ourselves free of the wretched conventions of ordinary + civilisation,” said Miss Rutherford. “Let us eat when we are hungry + without regard to the clock. Let us gorge ourselves with California peach + juice. Let us suck the burning peppermint—” + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t any today,” said Priscilla. “Brannigan’s wasn’t open when we + started.” + </p> + <p> + “The principle is just the same,” said Miss Rutherford. “Whatever food you + have is sure to be refreshingly unusual.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> lay absolutely becalmed. The ebbing tide carried her + slowly past Inishbawn towards the deep passage between the end of the + breakwater of boulders and the point on which the lighthouse stands. The + air was extraordinarily close and oppressive. Even Priscilla seemed + affected by it. She lay against the side of the boat with her hands + trailing idly in the water. Frank sat with the useless tiller in his hand + and watched the boom swing slowly across as the boat swayed this way or + that with the current. Miss Rutherford, her face glistening with heat, had + gone to sleep in a most uncomfortable attitude soon after luncheon. Her + head nodded backwards from time to time and whenever it did so she opened + her eyes, smiled at Frank, rearranged herself a little and then went to + sleep again. + </p> + <p> + The cattle on Inishbawn had forsaken their scanty pasture and stood + knee-deep in the sea. Not even the wild new heifer, which had gored Jimmy + Kinsella, if such a creature existed at all, would have had energy to do + much. A dog, which ought perhaps to have been barking at the cattle, lay + prostrate under the shadow afforded by a grassy bank. A flock of white + terns floated motionless a few yards from the <i>Tortoise</i>, looking + like a miniature fleet of graceful, white-sailed pleasure boats. They had + no heart to go circling and swooping for fish. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it would have been useless if they had. The fish themselves may + well have been lying, in search of coolness among the weedy stones at the + bottom of the sea. Of all living creatures the jelly fish alone seemed to + retain any spirit. Immense crowds of them drifted past the <i>Tortoise</i>, + swelling out and closing again their concave bodies, revolving slowly + round, dragging long purple tendrils deliriously through the warm water. + They swept past Priscilla’s drooping hands, touching them with their + yielding bodies and brushing them softly with their tendrils. Now and then + she lifted one from the water, watched it lie flaccid on the palm of her + hand and then dropped it into the sea again. + </p> + <p> + A faint air of wind stole across from Inishbawn. The <i>Tortoise</i>, + utterly without steerage way, felt it and turned slowly towards it. It was + as if she stretched her head out for another such gentle kiss as the wind + gave her. Priscilla felt it, and with returning animation made a plunge + for an unusually large jelly fish, captured it and held it up + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pity you’re not out after jelly fish, Miss Rutherford,” she said, + “instead of sponges. There are thousands and thousands of them. We could + fill the boat with them in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford made no reply. She had succeeded in wriggling herself into + such a position that her head rested on the thwart of the boat. Her face + was extremely red, and, owing perhaps to the twisted position of her neck, + she was snoring. Priscilla looked at Frank and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” she said, “if we ought to wake her up. She won’t like it, of + course, but it may be the kindest thing to do. It wouldn’t be at all nice + for her if she smothered in her sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Frank blinked lazily. He was very nearly asleep. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a nice pair,” said Priscilla. “What on earth is the point of + dropping off like that in the middle of the day? Ghastly laziness I call + it.” + </p> + <p> + Another puff of wind and then another came from the west. The <i>Tortoise</i> + began to move through the water. Frank woke up and paid serious attention + to his steering. Priscilla looked round the sea and then the sky. The + thunder storm was breaking over Rosnacree, five miles to the east, and a + heavy bank of dark clouds was piled up across the sky. + </p> + <p> + “It looks uncommonly queer,” said Priscilla, “rather magnificent in some + ways, but I wish I knew exactly what it’s going to do. I don’t understand + this breeze coming in from the west. It’s freshening too.” + </p> + <p> + A long deep growl reached them from the east. + </p> + <p> + “Thunder,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Must be,” said Priscilla. “The clouds are coming up against the wind. + Only thunder does that—and liberty. At least Wordsworth says liberty + does. I never saw it myself. I told you we were doing ‘The Excursion’ last + term. It’s in that somewhere. I say, this breeze is freshening. Keep her + just as she’s going, Cousin Frank. We’ll be able to let her go in a + minute. Oh, do look at the water!” + </p> + <p> + The sea had turned a deep purple colour. In spite of the ripples which the + westerly breeze raised on its surface it had a curious look of sulky + menace. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rutherford,” said Priscilla, “wake up, we’re going to have a thunder + storm.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford sat up with a start + </p> + <p> + “A storm!” she said. “How splendid! Any chance of being wrecked?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present,” said Priscilla, “but you never know what may happen. If + you feel at all nervous I’ll steer myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nervous!” said Miss Rutherford. “I’m delighted. There’s nothing I should + like more than to be wrecked on a desert island with you two. It would + just complete the most glorious series of adventures I’ve ever had. Do try + and get wrecked.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t we better go in to Inishbawn and wait till it’s over?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Priscilla. “Wetting won’t hurt us, and anyway we’ll be at + Inishminna in half an hour with this breeze.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> was racing through the dark water. She was listed over + so that her lee gunwale seemed likely to dip under. Miss Rutherford, in + spite of her wish for shipwreck, scrambled up to windward. They reached + the point of Ardilaun and fled, bending and staggering, down the narrow + passage between it and Inishlean. Priscilla took the mainsheet in her hand + and ordered Frank to luff a little. There was another period of rushing, + heavily listed, with the wind fair abeam. Now and then, as a squall struck + the sails, Priscilla let the mainsheet run out and allowed the <i>Tortoise</i> + to right herself. The sea was flecked with the white tops of short, steep + waves, raised hurriedly, as it were irritably by the wind. A few heavy + drops of rain fell. The whole sky became very dark. A bright zig-zag of + light flashed down, the thunder crashed over head. The rain came down like + a solid sheet of water. + </p> + <p> + “Let her away again now,” said Priscilla. “We can run right down on + Inishark. Be ready to round her up into the wind when I tell you. I + daren’t jibe her.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t,” said Frank. “I say, you’d better steer.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t now. We couldn’t possibly change places. Are you all right, Miss + Rutherford?” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. Couldn’t be better. I’m soaked to the skin. Can’t possibly be + any wetter even if we swim for it.” + </p> + <p> + Inishark loomed, a low dark mass under their bow, dimly seen through a + veil of blinding rain which fell so heavily that the floor boards under + their feet were already awash. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll have to bail in a minute or two if this goes on,” said Priscilla. + “I wonder where the tin is?” + </p> + <p> + A roar of thunder drowned her voice. Miss Rutherford and Frank saw her + gesticulate wildly and point towards the island. Two small patches of + white were to be seen near the shore. + </p> + <p> + “Their tents,” yelled Priscilla. “We have them now if we don’t sink. Luff + her up, Cousin Frank, luff her up for all you’re worth. We must get her + off on the other tack or we’ll be past them.” + </p> + <p> + She hauled on the mainsheet as she spoke. The <i>Tortoise</i> rounded up + into the wind, lay over till the water began to pour over her side, + righted herself again and stood suddenly on an even keel, her sails + flapping wildly, the boat herself trembling like a creature desperately + frightened. Then she fell off on her new tack. Priscilla dragged Miss + Rutherford up to windward. Frank, guided by instinct rather than by any + knowledge of what was happening, scrambled up past the end of the long + tiller. Priscilla let the main sheet run out again. The <i>Tortoise</i> + raced straight for the shore. + </p> + <p> + “Keep her as she’s going, Cousin Frank. I’ll get the sail off her.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two there was wild confusion. Priscilla treading on Miss + Rutherford without remorse or apology, struggled with the halyard. The + sail bellied hugely, dipped into the sea to leeward and was hauled + desperately on board. The rain streamed down on them, each drop starting + up again like a miniature fountain when it splashed upon the wood of the + boat. The <i>Tortoise</i>, nearly half full of water, still staggered + towards the shore under her foresail. Priscilla hauled at the rope of the + centreboard. + </p> + <p> + “Run her up on the beach,” she shouted. “If we do knock a hole in her it + can’t be helped. Oh glory, glory! look at that!” + </p> + <p> + One of the tents tore itself from its fastenings, flapped wildly in the + air and then collapsed on the ground, a writhing heaving mass of soaked + canvas. The <i>Tortoise</i> struck heavily on the shore. Priscilla leaped + over her bows and ran up the beach with the anchor in her hand. She rammed + one of its flukes deep into the gravel. Then she turned towards the boat + and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “You help Frank out, Miss Rutherford. I must run on and see what’s + happening to those tents.” + </p> + <p> + A young woman, rain soaked and dishevelled, knelt beside the fallen tent. + She was working with fierce energy at the guy ropes, such of them as still + clung to their pegs. They were hopelessly entangled with the others which + had broken free and all of them were knotted and twisted round corners of + the flapping canvas. + </p> + <p> + “If I were you,” said Priscilla, “I’d leave those things alone till the + storm blows over. You’re only making them worse.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman looked round at Priscilla and smoothed her blown wet hair + from her face. + </p> + <p> + “Come and help me,” she said, “please.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the good of hurrying?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “My husband’s underneath.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose he’s all right. In fact, I daresay he’s a good deal drier + there than we are outside. We’d far better go into your tent and wait.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll smother.” + </p> + <p> + “Not he. If he’s suffering from anything this minute I should say it is + draughts.” + </p> + <p> + The canvas heaved convulsively. It was evident that some one underneath + was making desperate efforts to get out. + </p> + <p> + “He’s smothering. I know he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Priscilla. “I’ll give you a help if you like; I don’t + know much about tents and I may simply make things worse. However, I’ll + try.” + </p> + <p> + She attacked a complex tangle of ropes vigorously. Miss Rutherford, with + Frank leaning on her shoulder, staggered up the beach. Just as they + reached the tents the head of a young man appeared under the flapping + canvas. Then his arms struggled out. Priscilla seized him by the hands and + pulled hard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barnabas!” said the young lady, “are you safe?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s wet,” said Priscilla, “and rather muddy, but he’s evidently alive + and he doesn’t look as if he was injured in any way.” + </p> + <p> + The young man looked round him wildly at first. He was evidently bewildered + after his struggle with the tent and surprised at the manner of his + rescue. He gradually realised that there were strangers present. His eyes + rested on Miss Rutherford. She seemed the most responsible member of the + party. He pulled himself together with an effort and addressed her in a + tone of suave politeness which, under the circumstances, was very + surprising. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he said, “I ought to introduce myself. My name is Pennefather, + Barnabas Pennefather. The Rev. Barnabas Pennefather. This is my wife, Lady + Isabel Pennefather. I have a card somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + He began to fumble in various packets. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the card,” said Priscilla. “We’ll take your word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “We,” said Miss Rutherford, “are a rescue party. We’ve been in search of + you for days. This is Priscilla. This is Frank. My own name is Martha + Rutherford.” + </p> + <p> + “A rescue party!” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “Did mother send you after us?” said Lady Isabel. “If she did you may go + away again. I won’t go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite the contrary,” said Priscilla, “we’re on your side.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact,” said Miss Rutherford, “we’re here to save you from——” + </p> + <p> + “At first,” said Priscilla, “we fancied you might be spies, German spies. + Afterwards we found out you weren’t. That often happens you know. Just as + you think you’re perfectly certain you’re right, it turns out that you’re + quite wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you really were pursuing us,” said Lady Isabel. “I always said you + were, didn’t I, Barnabas?” + </p> + <p> + “Is Lord Torrington here?” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly here,” said Priscilla, “at least not yet. But he will be soon. + When we left home this morning he was fully bent on hunting you down and I + rather think the police sergeant must have given him the tip about where + you are.” + </p> + <p> + “The police!” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t so much mind if it’s only father,” said Lady Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “You may not,” said Priscilla. “But I expect Mr. Pennefather will. Lord + Torrington is very fierce. In his rage and fury he sprained Frank’s ankle. + He might have broken it. In fact, the railway guard thought he had. I + don’t know what he’ll do to you when he catches you.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know we’re married,” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “Is mother with him?” said Lady Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “She is,” said Priscilla. “But it’s all right. Aunt Juliet will keep her + in play. You can count on Aunt Juliet until she finds out that you’re + married—after that——— But it will be all right. We + have come to conduct you to a place of safety.” + </p> + <p> + “An inviolable sanctuary,” said Miss Rutherford. “But we shall all have + colds in the head before we get there if we don’t do something to dry + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Barnabas,” said Lady Isabel, “do go and change your clothes. He fell into + the sea the other day, and he is so liable to take cold.” + </p> + <p> + “We saw him,” said Priscilla. “Go and change your clothes, Mr. + Pennefather. By the time you’ve done that Jimmy Kinsella will have arrived + and you can be off at once with Miss Rutherford. The sooner we’re all out + of this the better. Though Lord Torrington doesn’t look like a man who + would come out in a thunder storm even to catch his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Your black suit is in the hold-all in my tent,” said Lady Isabel. + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Barnabas Pennefather disappeared into the tent which was + still standing. Priscilla looked around her cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “It’s clearing up,” she said. “There’s quite a lot of blue sky to be seen + over Rosnacree. We’ll all dry soon.” + </p> + <p> + She gathered the bottom of her skirt tight into her hands and wrung the + water out of it. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to take him to?” she said to Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take him?” said Miss Rutherford. “I didn’t know that was part of + the plan. I thought we were all going together to Inishbawn, the + sanctuary.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you,” said Priscilla. “We decided that you were to have + charge of Barnabas for a few days until the trouble blows over a bit. + You’re to pretend that he’s your husband. You don’t mind, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d much rather have Frank,” said Miss Rutherford. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth would be the use of that?” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “But, of course, I’ll marry Barnabas with pleasure,” said Miss Rutherford, + “if it’s really necessary and Lady Isabel doesn’t object.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t be separated from Barnabas,” said Lady Isabel, “and I’m sure + he’ll never agree to leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same you’ll have to,” said Priscilla, “both of you. We can’t + pretend you’re not married if you’re going about together on Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t want to pretend I’m not married. I’m proud of what we’ve + done.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll sacrifice the respect and affection of Aunt Juliet,” said + Priscilla, “the moment it comes out that you’re married. As long as she + thinks you’re out on your own defying the absurd conventions by which + women are made into what she calls ‘bedizened dolls for the amusement of + the brutalised male sex,’ she’ll be all on your side. But once she thinks + you’ve given up your economic independence she’ll simply turn round and + help Lady Torrington to hunt you down.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather emerged from the tent. He wore a black suit of clothes of + strictly clerical cut and a collar which buttoned at the back of his neck. + Except that he was barefooted and had not brushed his hair he would have + been fit to attend a Church Conference. His self-respect was restored by + his attire. He walked over to Frank, who was dripping on a stone, and + handed him a visiting card. Frank read it. + </p> + <p> + “Reverend Barnabas Pennefather—St. Agatha’s Clergy House—Grosvenor + Street, W.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the senior curate,” he said. “The staff consists of five priests + besides the vicar.” + </p> + <p> + “They want to take you away from me,” said Lady Isabel. “But you won’t go, + say you won’t, Barnabas.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather took his place at his wife’s side. He held her hand in + his. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing on earth,” he said, “can separate us now.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Priscilla. “You’re rather ungrateful, both of you, + considering all we’re doing for you, and I don’t think you’re exactly + polite to Miss Rutherford, however——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mind about me,” said Miss Rutherford. “I feel snubbed, of course, + but I wasn’t really keen on having him for a husband, even temporarily.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather looked at her with shocked surprise. A deep flush spread + slowly over his face. His eyes blazed with righteous indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Woman——” he began. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t mind,” said Priscilla, “I think we’ll call you Barnabas. + It’s rather long, of course, and solemn. The natural thing would be to + shorten it down to Barny, but that wouldn’t suit you a bit. The rain’s + over now. I think I’ll go down and bail out the <i>Tortoise</i>. Then + we’ll all start. You people can be taking down the tent that’s standing, + and folding up the other one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going to?” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “To a sanctuary,” said Miss Rutherford, “an inviolable sanctuary. + Priscilla has that written down on the cover of a jam pot, so there’s no + use arguing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “She says we’ll be safe,” said Lady Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to move,” said Mr. Pennefather, “until I know where I’m going + and why.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk to him, Cousin Frank,” said Priscilla. “I see Jimmy Kinsella + coming round the corner in his boat and I really must bail out the <i>Tortoise</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t move out of this pretty quick,” said Frank to Mr. + Pennefather, “Lord Torrington will have you to a dead cert.” + </p> + <p> + “‘And fast before her father’s men,” said Miss Rutherford, “‘three days we + fled together. And should they find us in this glen——‘” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Barnabas,” said Lady Isabel, who knew Campbell’s poem and anticipated + the end of the quotation, “Oh, Barnabas, let’s go, anywhere, anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw any man,” said Frank, “in such a wax as Lord Torrington.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t met him myself,” said Miss Rutherford, “but I expect that when + he begins to speak he’ll shock you even worse than I did.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t mind Father,” said Lady Isabel. “It’s Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “They’re both on your track,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather looked from one to another of the group around him. Then + he turned slowly on his heel and began to roll up his tent. Lady Isabel + and Miss Rutherford set to work to pack the camp equipage. Frank took off + his coat and wrung the water out of it. Then he spread it on the ground + and looked at it. It was the coat worn by members of the First Eleven. He + had won his right to it when he caught out the Uppingham captain in the + long field. Now such triumphs and glories seemed incredibly remote. The + voices of Priscilla and Jimmy Kinsella reached him from the shore. They + were arguing hotly. + </p> + <p> + Frank looked at them and saw that they were both on their knees in the <i>Tortoise</i> + scooping up water in tin dishes. + </p> + <p> + The bailing was finished at last. The packing was nearly done. Priscilla + walked up to the camp dragging Jimmy Kinsella with her by the collar of + the coat. + </p> + <p> + “Barnabas,” she said, “have you got a revolver?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather looked up from a roll of blankets which he was strapping + together. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “I don’t carry revolvers.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you ought to,” said Priscilla. “I mean whenever you happen to be + running away with the daughter of the First Lord of the War Office or any + one like that. But, of course, being a clergyman may make a difference. + It’s awfully hard to know exactly what a clergyman ought to do when he’s + eloping. At the same time it’s jolly awkward you’re not having a revolver, + for Jimmy Kinsella says he won’t go to Inishbawn and we can’t all fit in + the <i>Tortoise</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him to me,” said Frank. “Just bring him over here, Priscilla, and + I’ll deal with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not take you to Inishbawn,” said Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla handed him over to Frank. It was a long time, more than two + years, since Frank had acquired some reputation as a master of men in the + form Room of Remove A.; but he retained a clear recollection of the + methods he had employed. He seized Jimmy Kinsella’s wrist and with a deft, + rapid movement, twisted it round. Jimmy had not enjoyed the advantages of + an English public school education. Torture of a refined kind was new to + him. He uttered a shrill squeal. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go where you’re told,” said Frank, “or do you want more?” + </p> + <p> + “I dursn’t take yez to Inishbawn,” said Jimmy whimpering. “My da would + beat me if I did.” + </p> + <p> + Frank twisted his arm again. + </p> + <p> + “My da will cut the liver out of me,” said Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Stop that,” said Mr. Pennefather. “I cannot allow bullying.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s for your sake entirely that it’s being done,” said Priscilla. + “You’re the most ungrateful beast I ever met. It would serve you jolly + well right if we left you here to have your own arm twisted by Lord + Torrington.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford was kneeling in front of a beautiful canteen, fitting + aluminium plates and various articles of cutlery into the places prepared + for them. She stood up and brandished a large carving fork. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she said, “will be just as effective as a revolver. You take it, + Frank, and sit close to him in the boat. The moment he stops rowing or + tries to go in any direction except Inishbawn you——” + </p> + <p> + She made a vicious stab in the air and then handed the fork to Frank. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the party started. Mr. Pennefather and Lady + Isabel refused to be separated. Priscilla took them in the <i>Tortoise</i>. + They sat side by side near the mast and held each other’s hands. + Priscilla, after one glance in their direction, looked resolutely past + them for the rest of the voyage. Miss Rutherford sat in the bow of Jimmy + Kinsella’s boat. Jimmy sat amidships and rowed. Frank, with the carving + fork poised for a thrust, sat in the stern. The wind, following the + departed thunderstorm, blew from the east. Priscilla set sail on the <i>Tortoise</i>. + Jimmy hoisted his lug, but was obliged to row as well as sail in order to + keep in touch with his consort. The boats grounded almost together on the + shingly beach of Inishbawn. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony, who had made his way home through the thunderstorm, put his + hand on the bow of the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be better for you not to land,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I know all about that,” said Priscilla. “You needn’t bother to invent + anything fresh.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t land here,” said Joseph Antony. “Aren’t there islands enough in + the bay? Jimmy, will you push that boat off from the shore and take the + lady and gentleman that’s in her away out of this.” + </p> + <p> + The carving fork descended an inch towards Jimmy’s leg. His father menaced + him with a threatening scowl. Jimmy sat quite still. Like the leader of + the House of Lords during the last stage of a recent political crisis, he + had ceased to be a free agent. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to land on your beastly island,” said Priscilla. “If there + wasn’t as much as a half-tide rock in the whole bay that I could put my + foot on I wouldn’t land here, and you can tell your wife from me that if + that baby of hers was to die for the want of a bit of flannel, I won’t + steal another scrap from Aunt Juliet’s box to give it to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure you know well enough, Miss,” said Joseph Antony, “that there’s ne’er + a one would be more welcome to the island than yourself. But the way + things is at present——” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve a pretty good guess at the way things are,” said Priscilla, “and the + minute I get back tonight I’m going to tell Sergeant Rafferty.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony smiled uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn’t do the like of that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Priscilla, “unless you allow me to land these two at once.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony looked long and carefully at Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “What about the other young gentleman?” he said, “the one that has the + sore leg?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t want to set foot on Inishbawn,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “And the young lady,” said Joseph Antony, “that does be taking the water + in the little boat along with Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll let Jimmy row her off to any corner of the bay you like,” said + Priscilla, “if you’ll allow the other two to land.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony looked at Mr. Pennefather again. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t say there was much harm in him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There’s none,” said Priscilla, “absolutely none. Isn’t he paying £4 a + week for that old boat of Flanagan’s. Doesn’t that show you the kind of + man he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” said Joseph Antony, “it could be that he’s signed the pledge for + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you signed the pledge for life, Barnabas?” said Priscilla. “Let go + of her hand for one minute and answer the question that’s asked you.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he mean a temperance pledge?” said Mr. Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Joseph Antony. “Are you a member of the Total Abstinence + Sodality?” + </p> + <p> + “I take a little whisky after my work on Sunday evenings,” said Mr. + Pennefather, “and, of course, when I’m dining out I——” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll do,” said Joseph Antony. “A man that takes it one time will take + it another. I suppose now you’re not any ways connected with the police?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not,” said Priscilla. “Can’t you see he’s a clergyman?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s beyond me,” said Joseph Antony, “what brings you to Inishbawn at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “The way things are with you at present,” said Priscilla, “it wouldn’t be + a bad thing to have a clergyman staying with you on the island. It would + look respectable.” + </p> + <p> + “It would, of course,” said Joseph Antony. + </p> + <p> + “If any question ever came to be asked,” said Priscilla, “about what’s + going on here, it would be a grand thing for you to be able to say that + you had the Rev. Barnabas Pennefather stopping along with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It would surely,” said Joseph Antony. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla jumped out of the boat and drew Kinsella a little way up the + beach. + </p> + <p> + “If anything was to come out,” she whispered, “you could say that it was + the strange clergyman and that you didn’t know what was going on.” + </p> + <p> + “I might,” said Joseph Antony. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla turned to the boat joyfully. + </p> + <p> + “Hop out, Barnabas,” she shouted, “and take the tents and things with you. + It’s all settled. Joseph Antony will give you the run of his island and + you’ll be perfectly safe.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather climbed over the bows of the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + Lady Isabel tugged at the hold-all, which was tucked away under a thwart + and heaved it with a great effort into her husband’s arms. He staggered + under the weight of it. Joseph Antony Kinsella’s instinctive politeness + asserted itself. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me take that from you?” he said. “The like of them parcels + isn’t fit for your reverence to carry.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Isabel got the rest of her luggage out of the <i>Tortoise</i>. Then + she and Mr. Pennefather went to Jimmy Kinsella’s boat and unloaded it. + They had a good deal of luggage altogether. When everything was stacked on + the beach Mrs. Kinsella, with her baby in her arms, came down and looked + at the pile with amazement. Three small, bare-legged Kinsellas, young + brothers of Jimmy’s, followed her. She turned to Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe now,” she said, “them ones is after being evicted? Tell me this, + was it out of shops or off the land that they did be getting their living + before the trouble came on them?” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, whist, woman,” said Joseph Antony, “have you no eyes in your head. + Can’t you see that the gentleman’s a clergyman?” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to God!” said Mrs. Kinsella, “and to think now that they’d evict + the like of him!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Isabel held out her hand to Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Goodbye,” she said, “and thank you so much for all you’ve done. If you + see my mother——” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll see her tonight,” said Priscilla. “I shan’t be let in to dinner, + but I’ll see her afterwards when Aunt Juliet is smoking in the hope of + shocking your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell her we’re here,” said Lady Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Frank,” said Priscilla. “I’ll help you out of that boat and + into the <i>Tortoise</i>. We must be getting home. Goodbye, Miss + Rutherford.” + </p> + <p> + “It really is goodbye this time,” said Miss Rutherford. “I’m off tomorrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Back to London?” said Frank. “Hard luck.” + </p> + <p> + “To that frowsy old Museum,” said Priscilla, “full of skeletons of whales + and stuffed antelopes and things.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel it all acutely,” said Miss Rutherford. “Don’t make it worse for me + by enumerating my miseries.” + </p> + <p> + “And I don’t believe you’ve caught a single sponge,” said Priscilla. “Will + they be frightfully angry with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got a few,” said Miss Rutherford, “fresh water ones that I caught + before I met you. I’ll make the most of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” said Priscilla, “it’ll be a great comfort to you to feel that + you’ve taken part in a noble deed of mercy before you left.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s something, of course,” said Miss Rutherford, “but you can’t think + how annoying it is to have to go away just at this crisis of the + adventure. I shall be longing day and night to hear how it ends.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll write and tell you, if you like,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Miss Rutherford. “Just let me know whether the sanctuary + remains inviolable and I shall be satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” said Priscilla. “Goodbye. We needn’t actually kiss each other, + need we? Of course, if you want to frightfully you can; but I think + kissing’s rather piffle.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Rutherford contented herself with wringing Priscilla’s hand. Then she + and Priscilla helped Frank out of Jimmy Kinsella’s boat and into the <i>Tortoise</i>. + </p> + <p> + The wind was due east and was blowing a good deal harder than it was when + they ran down to Inish-bawn. The <i>Tortoise</i> had a long beat before + her, the kind of beat which means that a small boat will take in a good + deal of water. Priscilla passed an oilskin coat to Frank. Having been wet + through by the thunderstorm and having got dry, Frank had no wish to get + wet again. He struggled into the coat, pushing his arms through sleeves + which stuck together and buttoned it round him. The <i>Tortoise</i> + settled down to her work in earnest She listed over until the foaming dark + water rushed along her gunwale. She pounded into the short seas, lifted + her bow clear of them, pounded down again, breasted them, took them fair + on the curve of her bow, deluged herself, Frank’s oilskin and even the + greater part of her sails with showers of spray. The breeze freshened and + at the end of each tack the boat swung round so fast that Frank, with his + maimed ankle, had hard work to scramble over the centreboard case to the + weather side. He slipped and slithered on the wet floor boards. There was + a wash of water on the lee side which caught and soaked whichever leg he + left behind him. He discovered that an oilskin coat is a miserably + inefficient protection in a small boat. Not that the seas came through it. + That does not happen. But while he made a grab at the flying foresail + sheet a green blob of a wave would rush up his sleeve and soak him elbow + high. Or, when he had turned his back to the wind and settled down + comfortably, an insidious shower of spray found means to get between his + coat and his neck, and trickled swiftly down, saturating his innermost + garments to his very waist. Also it is necessary sometimes to squat with + knees bent chinward, and then there are bulging spaces between the buttons + of the coat. Seas, leaping joyfully clear of the weather bow, came plump + into his lap. It became a subject of interesting speculation whether there + was a square inch of his body left dry anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla, who had no oilskin, got wet quicker but was no wetter in the + end. Her cotton frock clung to her. Water oozed out of the tops of her + shoes as she pressed her feet against the lee side of the boat to maintain + her position on the slippery floor boards. She had crammed her hat under + the stern thwart. Her hair, glistening with salt water, blew in tangles + round her head. Her face glowed with excitement. She was enjoying herself + to the utmost. + </p> + <p> + Tack after tack brought them further up the bay. The wind was still + freshening, but the sea, as they got nearer the eastern shore, became + calmer. The <i>Tortoise</i> raced through it. Sharp squalls struck her + occasionally. She dipped her lee gunwale and took a lump of solid water on + board. Priscilla luffed her and let the main sheet run through her + fingers. The <i>Tortoise</i> bounced up on even keel and shook her sails + in an ill-tempered way. Priscilla, with a pull at the tiller, set her on + her course again. A few minutes later the sea whitened and frothed to + windward and the same process was gone through again. The stone perch was + passed. The tacks became shorter, and the squalls, as the wind descended + from the hills, were more frequent. + </p> + <p> + But the sail ended triumphantly. Never before had Priscilla rounded up the + <i>Tortoise</i> to her mooring buoy with such absolute precision. Never + before had she so large an audience to witness her skill. Peter Walsh was + waiting for her at the buoy in Brannigan’s punt. Patsy the smith, quite + sober but still yellow in the face, was standing on the slip. On the edge + of the quay, having torn themselves from their favourite seat, were all + the loafers who usually occupied Brannigan’s window sills. Timothy Sweeny + had come down from his shop and stood in the background, a paunchy, flabby + figure of a man, with keen beady eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The weather’s broke, Miss,” said Peter Walsh, as he rowed them ashore. + “The wind will work round to the southeast and your sailing’s done for + this turn.” + </p> + <p> + “It may not,” said Priscilla, stepping from the punt to the slip, “you + can’t be sure about the wind.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will, Miss,” said one of the loafers, leaning over to speak to + her. + </p> + <p> + Another and then another of them took up the words. With absolute + unanimity they assured her that sailing next day would be totally + impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you’re wanting to drown yourselves,” said Patsy the smith + sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “The glass has gone down,” said Timothy Sweeny, coming forward. + </p> + <p> + “Help the gentleman ashore,” said Priscilla, “and don’t croak about the + weather.” + </p> + <p> + “The master was saying today,” said Peter Walsh, “that he’d take the <i>Tortoise</i> + out tomorrow, and the gentleman that’s up at the house along with him. I’d + be glad now, Miss, if you’d tell him it’ll be no use him wasting his time + coming down to the quay on account of the weather being broke and the wind + going round to the southeast.” + </p> + <p> + “And the glass going down,” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be better for him to amuse himself some other way tomorrow,” said + Patsy the smith. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell him,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “And if the young gentleman that’s with you,” said Peter Walsh, “would say + the same I’d be glad. We wouldn’t like anything would happen to the + master, for he’s well liked.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a disgrace to the whole of us,” said Patsy the smith, “if the + strange gentleman was to be drownded.” + </p> + <p> + “They’d have it on the papers if anything happened him,” said Sweeny, “and + the place would be getting a bad name, which is what I wouldn’t like on + account of being a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla began to wheel the bath-chair away from the quay. Having gone a + few steps she turned and winked impressively at Peter Walsh. Then she went + on. The party on the quay watched her out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Now what,” said Sweeny, “might she mean by that kind of behaviour?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s as much as to say,” said Peter Walsh, “that she knows damn well + where it is the master and the other gentleman will be wanting to go.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s mighty cute,” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “And what’s more,” said Peter Walsh, “she’ll stop him if she’s able. For + she doesn’t want them out on Inishbawn, no more than we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure now that she meant that?” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + “I’m as sure as if she said it, and surer.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a fine girl, so she is,” said Patsy the smith. + </p> + <p> + “Devil the finer you’d see,” said one of the loafers, “if you was to + search from this to America.” + </p> + <p> + This, though a spacious, was a thin compliment. + </p> + <p> + There are never, even at the height of the transatlantic tourist season, + very many girls between Rosnacree and America. + </p> + <p> + “Anyway,” said Sweeny hopefully, “it could be that the wind will go round + to the southeast before morning. The glass didn’t rise any since the + thunder.” + </p> + <p> + “It might,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + A southeast wind is dreaded, with good reason, in Rosnacree Bay. It + descends from the mountains in vicious squalls. It catches rushing tides + at baffling angles and lashes them into white-lipped fury. Sturdy island + boats of the larger size, boats with bluff bows and bulging sides, brave + it under their smallest lugs. But lesser boats, and especially light + pleasure crafts like the <i>Tortoise</i> do well to lie snug at their + moorings till the southeasterly wind has spent its strength. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Timothy Sweeny, J. P., as suited a man of portly figure and civic dignity, + was accustomed to lie long in his bed of a morning. On weekdays he rose, + in a bad temper, at nine o’clock. On Sundays, when he washed and shaved, + he was half an hour later and his temper was worse. An apprentice took + down the shutters of the shop on weekdays at half past nine. By that time + Sweeny, having breakfasted, sworn at his wife and abused his children, was + ready to enter upon the duties of his calling. + </p> + <p> + On the morning after the thunderstorm he was wakened at the outrageous + hour of half past seven by the rattle of a shower of pebbles against his + window. The room he slept in looked out on the back-yard through which his + Sunday customers were accustomed to make their way to the bar. Sweeny + turned over in his bed and cursed. The window panes rattled again under + another shower of gravel. Sweeny shook his wife into consciousness. He + bade her get up and see who was in the back-yard. Mrs. Sweeny, a lean + harassed woman with grey hair, fastened a dingy pink nightdress round her + throat with a pin and obeyed her master. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Peter Walsh,” she said, after peering out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to go to hell out of that,” said Sweeny. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sweeny wrapped a shawl round her shoulders, opened the bottom of the + window and translated her husband’s message. + </p> + <p> + “Himself’s asleep in his bed,” she said, “but if you’ll step into the shop + at ten o’clock he’ll be glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be obliged to you, ma’am,” said Peter Walsh, “if you’ll wake him, + for what I’m wanting to say to him is particular and he’ll be sorry after + if there’s any delay about hearing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you shut that window and have done talking,” said Sweeny from the + bed. “There’s a draught coming in this minute that would lift the feathers + from a goose.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sweeny, though an oppressed woman, was not wanting in spirit. She + gave Peter Walsh’s message in a way calculated to rouse and irritate her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “He says that if you don’t get up out of that mighty quick there’ll be + them here that will make you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hell to your soul!” said Sweeny, “what way’s that of talking? Ask him now + is the wind in the southeast or is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you that myself,” said Mrs. Sweeny. “It is not; for if it was + it would be in on this window and my hair would be blew off my head.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him,” said Sweeny, “what boats is in the harbor, and then shut down + the window.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sweeny put her head and shoulders out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Himself wants to know,” she said, “what boats is at the quay. You needn’t + be looking at me like that, Peter Walsh. He’s sober enough. Hard for him + to be anything else for he’s been in his bed the whole of the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell him, ma’am,” said Peter Walsh, “that there’s no boats in it + only the <i>Tortoise</i>, and that one itself won’t be there for long for + the wind’s easterly and it’s a fair run out to Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sweeny repeated this message. Sweeny, roused to activity at last, + flung off the bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of the room with you,” he said to his wife, “and shut the door. + It’s down to the kitchen you’ll go and let me hear you doing it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sweeny was too wise to disobey or argue. She snatched a petticoat + from a chair near the door and left the room hurriedly. Sweeny went to the + window. + </p> + <p> + “What the hell work’s this, Peter Walsh?” he said. “Can’t you let me sleep + quiet in my bed without raising the devil’s own delight in my back-yard. + If I did right I’d set the police at you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not be the only one the police will be at,” said Peter, “if that’s + the way of it. So there you have it plain and straight.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What I mean is this. The young lady is off in her own boat. She and the + young fellow with the sore leg along with her, and she says the master and + the strange gentleman will be down for the <i>Tortoise</i> as soon, as + ever they have their breakfast ate. That’s what I mean and I hope it’s to + your liking.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you not go out and knock a hole in the bottom of the damned boat?” + said Sweeny, “or run the blade of a knife through the halyards, or smash + the rudder iron with the wipe of a stone? What good are you if you can’t + do the like of that? Sure there’s fifty ways of stopping a man from going + out in a boat when there’s only one boat for him to go in?” + </p> + <p> + “There may be fifty ways and there may be more; but I’d be glad if you’d + tell me which of them is any use when there’s a young police constable + sitting on the side of the quay that hasn’t lifted his eye off the boat + since five o’clock this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there that?” + </p> + <p> + “There is. The sergeant was up at the big house late last night. I saw him + go myself. What they said to him I don’t know, but he had the constable + out sitting opposite the boat since five this morning the way nobody’d go + near her.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter Walsh,” said Sweeny, and this time he spoke in a subdued and + serious tone, “let you go in through the kitchen and ask herself to give + you the bottle of whisky that’s standing on the shelf under the bar. When + you have it, come up here for I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter Walsh did as he was told. When he reached the bedroom he found + Sweeny sitting on a chair with a deep frown on his face. He was thinking + profoundly. Without speaking he held out his hand. Peter gave him the + whisky. He swallowed two large gulps, drinking from the bottle. Then he + set it down on the floor beside him. Peter waited. Sweeny’s eyes, narrowed + to mere slits, were fixed on a portrait of a plump ecclesiastic which hung + in a handsome gold frame over the chimney piece. His hands strayed towards + the whisky bottle again. He took another gulp. Then, looking round at his + visitor, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me now, Peter Walsh. Is there any wind?” + </p> + <p> + “There is surely, a nice breeze from the east and there’s a look about it + that I wouldn’t be surprised if it went to the southeast before full + tide.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there what would upset a boat?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no wind to upset any boat that’s handled right. And you know + well, Mr. Sweeny, that the master can steer a boat as well as any man + about the bay.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there wind so that a boat might be upset if so be there happened to be + some kind of mistake and her jibing?” + </p> + <p> + “There will be that much wind,” said Peter Walsh, “at the top of the tide. + But what’s the use? Don’t I tell you, and don’t you know yourself that the + master isn’t one to be making mistakes in a boat?” + </p> + <p> + “How would it be now if you was in her, you and the strange gentleman, and + the master on shore, and you steering? Would she upset then, do you + think?” + </p> + <p> + “It could be done, of course, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Nigh hand to one of the islands,” said Sweeny, “in about four foot of + water or maybe less. I’d be sorry if anything would happen the gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d be sorry anything would happen myself. But it’s easy talking. How am + I to go in the boat when the master has sent down word that he’s going + himself?” + </p> + <p> + Sweeny took another gulp of whisky and again thought deeply. At the end of + five minutes he handed the bottle to Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Take a sup yourself,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh took a “sup,” a very large “sup,” with a sigh of appreciation. + It had been very trying for him to watch Sweeny drinking whisky while he + remained dry-lipped. + </p> + <p> + “Let you go down to the kitchen,” said Sweeny, “and borrow the loan of my + shot gun. There’s cartridges in the drawer of the table beyond in the + room. You can take two of them.” + </p> + <p> + “If it’s to shoot the master,” said Peter Walsh, “I’ll not do it. I’ve a + respect for him ever since——” + </p> + <p> + “Talk sense. Do you think I want to have you hanged?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged or drowned. The way you’re talking it’ll be both before I’m + through with this work.” + </p> + <p> + “When you have the gun,” said Sweeny, “and the cartridges in it, you’ll go + round to the back yard where you were this minute and you’ll fire two + shots through this window, and mind what you’re at, Peter Walsh, for I + won’t have every pane of glass in the back of the house broke, and I won’t + have the missus’ hens killed. Do you think now you can hit this window + from where you were standing in the yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Hit it! Barring the shot scatters terrible I’ll put every grain of it + into some part of you if you stay where you are this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not be in this chair at the time,” said Sweeny. “I’ll be in the bed, + and what shots come into the room will go over me with the way you’ll be + shooting. But any way I’ll have the mattress and the blankets rolled up + between me and harm. It’ll be all the better if there’s a few grains in + the mattress.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Peter Walsh, “that I’ll be much nearer drowning the + strange gentleman after I’ve shot you. But sure I’ll do it if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “When you have that done,” said Sweeny, “and you’d better be quick about + it—you’ll go down to the barrack and tell Sergeant Rafferty that + he’s to come round here as quick as he can. The missus’ll meet him at the + door of the shop and she’ll tell him what’s happened.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose then you’ll offer bail for me,” said Peter Walsh, “for if you + don’t, no other one will, and it’ll be hard for me to go out upsetting + boats if they have me in gaol for murdering you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not that she’ll tell him, but a kind of a distracted story. She’ll + have very little on her at the time. She has no more than an old night + dress and a petticoat this minute. I’m sorry now she has the petticoat + itself. If I’d known what would have to be I’d have kept it from her. It + doesn’t be natural for a woman to be dressed up grand when a lot of + murdering ruffians from behind the bog has been shooting her husband half + the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedam,” said Peter Walsh, “is that the way it is?” + </p> + <p> + “It is that way. And I wouldn’t wonder but there’ll be questions asked + about it in Parliament after.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be wanting the doctor,” said Peter Walsh, “to be picking the shot + out of you.” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as ever you’ve got the sergeant,” said Sweeny, “you’ll go round + for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “And what’ll he say when there’s no shot in you?” + </p> + <p> + “Say! He’ll say what I bid him? Ain’t I Chairman of the Board of + Guardians, and doesn’t he owe me ten pounds and more this minute, shop + debts. What would he say? + </p> + <p> + “He’s a gentleman that likes a drop of whisky,” said Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll waste no whisky on him. Where’s the use when I can get what I want + without?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh meditated on the situation for a minute or two. Then the full + splendour of the plan began to dawn on him. + </p> + <p> + “The master,” he said, “will be taking down the depositions that you’ll be + making in the presence of the sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + “He will,” said Sweeny, “for there’s no other magistrate in the place only + myself and him, and its against the law for a magistrate to take down his + own depositions and him maybe dying at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “There’ll be only myself then to take the strange gentleman to Inishbawn + in the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “And who’s better fit to do it? Haven’t you known the bay since you were a + small slip of a boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I have surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a rock or a tide in it that isn’t familiar to you?” + </p> + <p> + “There is not.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there a man in Rosnacree that’s your equal in the handling of a + small boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorra the one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then be off with you and get the gun the way I told you.” + </p> + <p> + At half-past ten Sir Lucius and Lord Torrington drove into the town and + pulled up opposite Brannigan’s shop. The <i>Tortoise</i> lay at her + moorings, a sight which gratified Sir Lucius. After his experience the day + before he was afraid that Peter Walsh might have beached the boat in order + to execute some absolutely necessary repairs. He congratulated himself on + having suggested to Sergeant Rafferty that one of the constables should + keep an eye on her. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the boat, Torrington,” he said. “She’s small, and there’s a fresh + breeze. But if you don’t mind getting a bit wet she’ll take us round the + islands in the course of the day. If your daughter is anywhere about we’ll + see her.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Torrington eyed the <i>Tortoise</i>. He would have preferred a larger + boat, but he was a man of determination and courage. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care how wet I get,” he said, “so long as I have the chance of + speaking my mind to the scoundrel who has abducted my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll take oilskins with us,” said Sir Lucius, getting out of the trap as + he spoke. + </p> + <p> + The police sergeant approached him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rafferty,” said Sir Lucius, “what’s the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any fresh news of my daughter?” said Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “I have not, my Lord. Barring what Professor Wilder told me I know no + more. There was a lady belonging to his party out on the bay looking out + for sponges and she came across——” + </p> + <p> + “You told us all that yesterday,” said Sir Lucius. “What’s the matter with + you now?” + </p> + <p> + “What they say,” said the sergeant cautiously, “is that it’s murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder! Good heavens! Who’s dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Timothy Sweeny,” said the sergeant + </p> + <p> + “It might be worse,” said Sir Lucius. “If the people of this district have + had the sense to kill Sweeny I’ll have a higher opinion of them in the + future than I used to have. Who did it?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not known yet who did it,” said the sergeant, “but there was two + shots fired into the house last night. There’s eleven panes of glass + broken and the wall at the far side of the room is peppered with shot, and + I picked ten grains of it out of the mattress myself and four out of the + pillow, without counting what might be in Timothy Sweeny, which the doctor + is attending to. Number 5 shot it was and Sweeny is moaning terrible. + You’d hear him now if you was to step up a bit in the direction of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + It would, of course, have been highly gratifying to Sir Lucius to hear + Timothy Sweeny groan, but, remembering that Lord Torrington was anxious + about his daughter, he denied himself the pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “If he’s groaning as loud as you say,” he said, “he can’t be quite dead. I + don’t believe half a charge of No. 5 shot would kill a man like Sweeny + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “If he’s not dead,” said the sergeant, “he’s mighty near it, according to + what the doctor is just after telling me. It’s likely enough that shot + would prey on a man that’s as stout as Sweeny more than it might on a + spare man like you honour or me. The way the shot must have been fired to + get Sweeny after the fashion they did is from the top of the wall in the + back yard opposite the bedroom window. By the grace of God there’s + footmarks on the far side of it and a stone loosened like as if some one + had climbed up it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Sir Lucius, “I’m sorry for Sweeny, but I don’t see that I can + do anything to help you now. If you make out a case against any one come + up to me in the evening and I’ll sign a warrant for his arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” said the sergeant, “that if it was pleasing to your + honour, you might take Sweeny’s depositions before you go out in the boat; + just for fear he might take it into his head to die on us before evening; + which would be a pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he able to make a deposition?” said Sir Lucius. + </p> + <p> + “He’s willing to try,” said the sergeant, “but it’s badly able to talk he + is this minute.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius turned to Lord Torrington. + </p> + <p> + “This is a confounded nuisance, Torrington,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll + have to ask you to wait till I’ve taken down whatever lies this fellow + Sweeny chooses to swear to. I won’t be long.” + </p> + <p> + But Lord Torrington had a proper respect for the forms of law. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t hurry over a job of that sort,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “If the man’s been shot at—— Can’t I go by myself? I know + something about boats. You’ll be here for hours.” + </p> + <p> + “You may know boats,” said Sir Lucius, “but you don’t know this bay.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t I work it with a chart? You have a chart, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No man living could work it with a chart. The rocks in the bay are as + thick as currants in a pudding and half of them aren’t charted. Besides + the tides are——” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t there some man about the place I could take with me?” said Lord + Torrington. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh was hovering in the background with his eyes fixed anxiously + on Sir Lucius and the police sergeant. Sir Lucius looking around caught + sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you like,” said Sir Lucius. “I’ll send + Peter Walsh with you. He’s an unmitigated blackguard, but he knows the bay + like the palm of his hand and he can sail the boat. Come here, Peter.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh stepped forward, touching his hat and smiling respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” said Sir Lucius, “Lord Torrington wants to take a sail round the + islands in the bay. I can’t go with him myself, so you must. Have you + taken any drink this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not,” said Peter. “Is it likely I would with Sweeny’s shop shut on + account of the accident that’s after happening to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you give him a drop, Torrington, while you’re on the sea with him. + You can fill him up with whisky when you get home if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t be for going very far today,” said Peter Walsh. “It looks to + me as if it might come on to blow from the southeast.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll go out to Inishbawn first of all,” said Sir Lucius. “After that + you can work home in and out, visiting every island that’s big enough to + have people on it. The weather won’t hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure if his lordship’s contented,” said Peter, “it isn’t for me to be + making objections.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Sir Lucius. “Get the sails on the boat. You can tie down + a reef if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no need,” said Peter. “She’ll go better under the whole sail.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sergeant,” said Sir Lucius, “I’ll just see them start, and then I’ll + go back and listen to whatever story Sweeny wants to tell.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh huddled himself into an ancient oilskin coat, ferried out to + the <i>Tortoise</i> and hoisted the sails. He laid her long side the slip + with a neatness and precision which proved his ability to sail a small + boat. Lord Torrington stepped carefully on board and settled himself + crouched into a position undignified for a member of the Cabinet, on the + side of the centreboard case recommended by Peter Walsh. + </p> + <p> + “Got your sandwiches all right?” said Sir Lucius, “and the flask? Good. + Then off you go. Now, Peter, Inishbawn first and after that wherever + you’re told to go. If you get wet, Torrington, don’t blame me. Now, + sergeant, I’m ready.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i>, a stiff breeze filling her sails, darted out to + mid-channel. Peter Walsh paid out his main sheet and set her running dead + before the wind. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll come round to the southeast,” he said, “before we’re half an hour + out.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Lucius waved his hand. Then he turned and followed the sergeant into + Sweeny’s house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + The <i>Blue Wanderer</i>, with her little lug, sailed slowly even when + there was a fresh wind right behind her. It was half-past ten when + Priscilla and Frank ran her aground on Inishbawn. Joseph Antony Kinsella + had seen them coming and was standing on the shore ready to greet them. + </p> + <p> + “You’re too venturesome, Miss, to be coming out all this way in that + little boat,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We came safe enough,” said Priscilla, “didn’t ship a drop the whole way + out.” + </p> + <p> + “You came safe,” said Kinsella, “but will you tell me how you’re going to + get home again? The wind’s freshening and what’s more it’s drawing round + to the southeast.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it. If we can’t get home, we can’t, that’s all. I suppose Mrs. + Kinsella will bake us a loaf of bread for breakfast tomorrow. Cousin + Frank, you’ll have to make Barnabas take you into his tent. He can’t very + well refuse on account of being a clergyman and so more or less pledged to + deeds of charity. I’ll curl up in a corner of Lady Isabel’s pavilion. By + the way, Joseph Antony, how are the young people getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “I had my own trouble with them after you left,” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry to hear that and I wouldn’t have thought it. Barnabas seemed to + me a nice peaceable kind of curate. Why didn’t you hit him on the head + with an oar? That would have quieted him.” + </p> + <p> + “I might, of course; and I would; but it was the lady that was giving me + the trouble more than him. Nothing would do her right or wrong but she’d + have her tent set up on the south end of the island; and that’s what + wouldn’t suit me at all.” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla glanced at the smaller of the two hills which make up the island + of Inishbawn. It stood remote from the Kinsellas’ homestead and the + patches of cultivated land, separated from them by a rough causeway of + grey boulders. From a hollow in it a thin column of smoke arose, and was + blown in torn wreaths along the slope. + </p> + <p> + “It would not suit you a bit,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “What made her want to go there?” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + The bare southern hill of Inishbawn seemed to him a singularly + unattractive camping ground. It was a windswept, desolate spot. + </p> + <p> + “She took a notion into her head,” said Kinsella, “that his Reverence + might catch the fever if he stopped on this end of the island.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” said Frank, “how can any one catch fever here?” + </p> + <p> + “On account of Mrs. Kinsella and the children having come out all over + large yellow spots,” said Priscilla. “I hope that will be a lesson to you, + Joseph Antony.” + </p> + <p> + “What I said was for the best,” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “How was I to know she’d be here at the latter end?” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t know, of course. Nobody ever can; which is one of the + reasons why it’s just as well to tell the truth at the start whenever + possible. If you make things up you generally forget afterwards what they + are, and then there’s trouble. Besides the things you make up very often + turn against you in ways you’d never expect. It was just the same with a + mouse-trap that Sylvia Courtney once bought, when she thought there was a + mouse in our room, though there wasn’t really and it wouldn’t have done + her any harm if there had been. No matter how careful she was about tying + the string down it used to bound up again and nip her fingers. But Sylvia + Courtney never was any good at things like mouse-traps. What she likes is + English Literature.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you stop her going to the far end of the island?” said Frank, “if + she thought there was an infectious fever for Mr. Pennefather to catch——” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you mentioned the wild heifer,” said Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + “I did not then. What I said was rats.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather mean of you that,” said Priscilla. “The rats were Peter Walsh’s + originally. You shouldn’t have taken them. That’s what’s called—What + is it called, Cousin Frank? Something to do with plagues, I know. Is there + such a word as plague-ism? Anyhow it’s what poets do when they lift other + poets’ rhymes and it’s considered mean.” + </p> + <p> + “It was me told Peter Walsh about the rats,” said Kinsella, repelling an + unjust accusation. “The way they came swimming in on the tide would + surprise you, and the gulls picking the eyes out of the biggest of them as + they came swimming along. But that wouldn’t stop them.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll just run up and have a word with Barnabas,” said Priscilla. “It’ll + be as well for him to know that father and Lord Torrington are out after + him today in the <i>Tortoise</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me that?” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be all right,” said Priscilla. “They’ll never get here. But of + course Barnabas may want to make his will in case of accidents. Just you + help the young gentleman ashore, Kinsella. He can’t get along very well by + himself on account of the way Lord Torrington treated him. Then you’d + better haul the boat up a bit. It’s rather beginning to blow and I see the + wind really has got round to the southeast. I hardly thought it would, but + it has. Winds so seldom do what everybody says they’re going to. I’m sure + you’ve noticed that.” + </p> + <p> + She walked up the rough stony beach. A fierce gust, spray-laden and + eloquent with promise of rain, swept past her. + </p> + <p> + “If I’d known,” said Kinsella sulkily, “that half the country would be out + after them ones, I’d have drownded them in the sea and their tents along + with them before I let them set foot on Inishbawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington won’t do you any harm,” said Frank. “He’s only trying to + get back his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Kinsella, still in a very bad temper, “what anybody’d + want with the likes of that girl. You’d think a man would be glad to get + rid of her and thankful to anybody that was fool enough to take her off + his hands. She’s no sense. Miss Priscilla has little enough, but she’s + young and it’ll maybe come to her later. But that other one—The Lord + saves us.” + </p> + <p> + He helped Frank on shore as he talked. Then he called Jimmy from the + cottage. Between them they hauled the <i>Blue Wanderer</i> above high-tide + mark. + </p> + <p> + “There she’ll stay,” said Kinsella vindictively, “for the next twenty-four + hours anyway. Do you feel that now?” + </p> + <p> + Frank felt a sudden gust of wind and a heavy splash of rain. The sky + looked singularly dark and heavy over the southeastern shore of the bay. + Ragged scuds of clouds, low flying, were tearing across overhead. The sea + was almost black and very angry; short waves were getting up, curling + rapidly over and breaking in yellow foam. With the aid of Jimmy Kinsella’s + arm Frank climbed the beach, passed the Kinsella’s cottage and made his + way to the place where the two tents were pitched. Priscilla was sitting + on a camp stool at the entrance of Lady Isabel’s tent. The Reverend + Barnabas Pennefather, looking cold and miserable, was crouching at her + feet in a waterproof coat. Lady Isabel was going round the tents with a + hammer in her hand driving the pegs deeper into the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I’m just explaining to Barnabas,” said Priscilla, “that he’s pretty safe + here so far as Lord Torrington is concerned. He doesn’t seem as pleased as + I should have expected.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s blowing very hard,” said Mr. Pennefather, “and it’s beginning to + rain. I’m sure our tents will come down and we shall get very wet Won’t + you sit down, Mr.—Mr——?” + </p> + <p> + “Mannix,” said Priscilla. “I thought you were introduced yesterday. Hullo! + What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + She was gazing across the sea when she spoke. She rose from her camp stool + and pointed eastwards with her finger. A small triangular patch of white + was visible far off between Inishrua and Knockilaun. Frank and Mr. + Pennefather stared at it eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “It looks to me,” said Priscilla, “very like the <i>Tortoise</i>. There + isn’t another boat in the bay with a sail that peaks up like that. If I’m + right, Barnabas—But I can’t believe that Peter Walsh and Patsy the + smith and all the rest of them would have been such fools as to let them + start.” + </p> + <p> + A rain squall blotted the sail from view. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they couldn’t help it,” said Frank. “Perhaps Uncle Lucius——” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel,” shouted Priscilla, “come here at once. She won’t come,” she + said to Frank, “if she can possibly help it, because she’s furiously angry + with me for asking her why on earth she married Barnabas. Rather a natural + question, I thought. Barnabas, go and get her.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather, who seemed cowed into a state of profound submissiveness, + huddled his waterproof round him and went to Lady Isabel. She was + hammering an extra peg through the loop of one of the guy lines of the + further tent. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you suppose she did it?” said Priscilla. “I couldn’t find that + out. It’s very hard to imagine why anybody marries anybody else. I often + sit and wonder for hours. But it’s totally impossible in this case——” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he preaches very well,” said Frank. “That might have attracted + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t possibly,” said Priscilla. “No girl—at the same time, of + course, she has, which shows there must have been some reason. I say, + Cousin Frank, she must be absolutely mad with me. She’s dragged Barnabas + into the other tent. Rather a poor lookout for me, considering that I + shall have to sleep with her. There’s the <i>Tortoise</i> again. It is the + <i>Tortoise</i>. There’s no mistake about it this time.” + </p> + <p> + The rain squall had blown over. The <i>Tortoise</i>, now plainly visible, + was tearing across the foam-flecked stretch of water between Inishrua and + Knockilaun. Priscilla ran to the other tent. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel,” she said, “if you want to see your father drowned you’d + better come out.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Isabel scrambled to the door of her tent and stood, her hair and + clothes blown violently, gazing wildly round her. Mr. Pennefather, looking + abjectly miserable, crawled after her and remained on his hands and knees + at her side. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s father?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “In that boat,” said Priscilla, “but he won’t be drowned. I only said he + would so as to get you out of your tent.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> stooped forwards and swept along, the water foaming at + her bow and leaping angrily at her weather quarter. A fiercer squall than + usual rushed at her from the western corner of Inishrua as she cleared the + island. She swerved to windward, her boom stretched far out to the + starboard side dipped suddenly and dragged through the water. She paid off + again before the wind in obedience to a strong pull on the tiller. + Priscilla grew excited in watching the progress of the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Barnabas,” she said, “give me your glasses, quick. I know you have a + pair, for I saw you watching us through them that day on Inishark.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pennefather had the glasses slung across his shoulder in the leather + case. He handed them to Priscilla. The squall increased in violence. The + whole sea grew white with foam. A sudden drift of fine spray, blown off + the face of the water, swept over Inishbawn, stinging and soaking the + watchers at the tents. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Torrington is on board all right,” said Priscilla, “but it’s not + father who’s steering. It’s Peter Walsh.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Tortoise</i> flew forward, dipping her bow so that once or twice + the water lipped over it. She looked pitiful, like a frightened creature + from whose swift flight all joy had departed. She reached the narrow + passage between Ardilaun and Inishlean. Before her lay the broad water of + Inishbawn Roads, lashed into white fury. But the worst of the squall was + over. The showers of spray ceased for a moment. It was still blowing + strongly, but the fierceness had gone out of the wind. + </p> + <p> + “She’s all right now,” said Priscilla, “and anyway there are two life + buoys on board.” + </p> + <p> + Then Peter Walsh did an unexpected thing. He put the tiller down and began + to haul in his main-sheet. The boat rounded up into the wind, headed + straight northwards for the shore of Inishlean. She listed heavily, lay + over till it seemed as if the sail would touch the water. For an instant + she paused, half righted, moved sluggishly towards the shore. Then, very + slowly as it seemed, she leaned down again till her sail lay flat in the + water. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when she righted, before the final heel over, a man flung + himself across the gunwale into the sea. In his hands he grasped one of + the life buoys. + </p> + <p> + “It’s father,” shouted Lady Isabel. “Oh, save him!” + </p> + <p> + “If he’d stuck to the boat,” said Priscilla, “he’d have been all right. + She’s ashore this minute on the point of Inishlean. Unless Peter Walsh has + gone suddenly mad I can’t imagine why he tried to round up the boat there + and why he hauled in the main-sheet. He was absolutely bound to go over.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he wanted to land there,” said Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Priscilla, “he has landed, but he’s upset the boat. I never + thought before that Peter Walsh could be such an absolute idiot.” + </p> + <p> + The condemnation was entirely unjust. Peter Walsh had, in fact, performed + the neatest feat of seamanship of his whole life. Never in the course of + forty years and more spent in or about small boats had he handled one with + such supreme skill and accuracy. Driven desperately by a squally and + uncertain southeast wind, with a welter of short waves knocking his boat’s + head about in the most incalculable way, he had succeeded in upsetting her + about six yards from the shore of an island on to the point of which she + was certain to drift, with no more than four feet of water under her at + the critical moment. The <i>Tortoise</i>, having no ballast in her and + depending entirely for stability on her fin-like centreboard was not, as + Peter Walsh knew very well, in the smallest danger of sinking. He climbed + quietly on her gunwale as she finally lay down and sat there, stride-legs, + not even wet below the waist, until she grounded on the curved point of + the island. The performance was a triumphant demonstration of Peter + Walsh’s unmatched skill. + </p> + <p> + In one matter only did he miscalculate. Lord Torrington knew something + about boats, possessed that little knowledge which is in all great arts, + theology, medicine and boat-sailing, a dangerous thing. He knew, after the + first immersion of the gunwale, when the water flowed in, that the boat + was sure to upset. He knew that the greatest risk on such occasions lies + in being entangled in some rope and perhaps pinned under the sail. He + seized the moment when the <i>Tortoise</i> righted after her first plunge, + grasped a life buoy and flung himself overboard. He was just too soon. A + moment later and he would have drifted ashore as the boat did on the point + of Inishlean. If he had let go his life buoy and struck out at once he + might have reached it. But the sudden immersion in cold water bewildered + him. He clung to the life buoy and was drifted past the point. + </p> + <p> + Then he regained his self-possession and looked round him. As a young man + he had been a fine swimmer and even at the age of fifty-five, with the + cares of an imperial War Office weighing heavily on him, he had enough + presence of mind to realise his situation. A few desperate strokes + convinced him of the impossibility of swimming back to Inishlean against + the wind and tide. In front of him lay a quarter of a mile of broken + water. Beyond that was Inishbawn. It was a long swim, too long for a fully + dressed man with no support. But Lord Torrington had a life buoy, + guaranteed by its maker to keep two men safely afloat. He had a strong + wind behind him and a tide drifting him down towards the island. The water + was not cold. He realised that all that was absolutely necessary was to + cling to the life buoy, but that he might, if he liked, slightly + accelerate his progress by kicking. He kicked hard. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Antony Kinsella wanted no more visitors on Inishbawn. Least of all + did he want one whom he knew to be a “high-up gentleman” and suspected of + being a government official of the most dangerous and venomous kind, but + Joseph Antony Kinsella was not the man to see a fellow creature drift + across Inishbawn Roads without making an effort to help him ashore. With + the aid of Jimmy he launched the stout, broad-beamed boat from which Miss + Rutherford had fished for sponges. Priscilla raced down from the tents and + sprang on board just as Jimmy, knee deep in foaming water, was pushing + off. She shipped the rudder. Joseph Antony and Jimmy pulled hard. They + forced their way to windward through clouds of spray and before Lord + Torrington was half way across the bay Joseph Antony hauled him dripping + into the boat. + </p> + <p> + Peter Walsh, standing in the water beside the stranded <i>Tortoise</i>, + saw with blank amazement that Kinsella turned the boat’s head and rowed + back again to Inishbawn. + </p> + <p> + “Bedamn,” he said, “but if I’d known that was to be the way it was to be I + might as well have put him ashore there myself and not have wetted him.” + </p> + <p> + On the beach at Inishbawn when the boat grounded, were Lady Isabel, Mrs. + Kinsella with her baby, the three small Kinsella boys, Frank Mannix, who, + to the further injury of his ankle, had hobbled down the hill, and in the + far background, the Reverend Barnabas Pennefather. + </p> + <p> + Lady Isabel rushed upon her father, flung her arms round his neck and + kissed him passionately with tears in her eyes. Lord Torrington did not + seem particularly pleased to see her. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it all, Isabel,” he said, “I’m surely wet enough. Don’t make me + worse by slobbering over me. There’s nothing to cry about and no necessity + for kissing.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Kinsella,” said Priscilla, “go you straight up to the house and get + out your husband’s Sunday clothes. If he hasn’t any Sunday clothes, get + blankets and throw a couple of sods of turf on the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to God!” said Mrs. Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla took Joseph Antony by the arm and led him a little apart from + the group on the beach. + </p> + <p> + “Get some whisky,” she said, “as quick as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisky!” said Kinsella blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, whisky. Bring it in a tin can or anything else that comes handy.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a tin can full of whisky? Sure, where could I get the like? Or for + the matter of that where would I get a thimble full? Is it likely now that + there’d be a tin can full of whisky on Inishbawn?” + </p> + <p> + Priscilla stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got quarts,” she said, “and gallons.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, talk sense,” said Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Priscilla. “I don’t want to give you away, but rather + than see Lord Torrington sink into his grave with rheumatic fever for want + of a drop of whisky I’ll expose you publicly. Cousin Frank, come here.” + </p> + <p> + “Whist, Miss, whist! Sure if I had the whisky I’d give it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Torrington, with Lady Isabel weeping beside him, was on his way up to + the Kinsellas’ cottage. Frank was speaking earnestly to Mr. Pennefather, + who seemed disinclined to follow his father-in-law. When he heard + Priscilla calling to him he hobbled towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Frank,” she said, “here’s a man who grudges poor Lord Torrington a + drop of whisky to save his life, although for weeks past he has been—what + is it you do when you make whisky? I forget the word. It isn’t brew.” + </p> + <p> + Frank, vaguely recollecting the advertisements which appear in our papers, + suggested that the word was required “pot”. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla pointed an accusing finger at Kinsella. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a man,” she said, “who for the last fortnight has been potting + whisky—what a fool you are, Cousin Frank! Distil is the word. Joseph + Antony Kinsella has been distilling whisky on this island for the last + month as hard as ever he could. He’s been shipping barrels full of it + underneath loads of gravel into Rosnacree, and now he’s trying to pretend + he hasn’t got any. Did you ever hear such utter rot in your life? I’m not + telling Lord Torrington yet, Joseph Antony; but in a minute or two I will + unless you go and get a good can full.” + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God, Miss,” said Kinsella, “say no more. I’ll try if I + can find a sup somewhere for the gentleman. But as for what you’re after + saying about distilling——” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up,” said Priscilla threateningly. + </p> + <p> + Kinsella went off at a sharp trot towards the south end of the island. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Priscilla in a calmer tone, “he really may not have any + more. That might have been the last barrel which I saw under the gravel + the day before yesterday when our anchor rope got foul of the centreboard. + I don’t expect it was quite the last, but it may have been. It’s very hard + to be sure about things like that. However, if it was the last he’ll just + have to turn to and distil some more. I don’t suppose it takes very long, + and there was a fire burning on the south end of the island this morning. + I saw it.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Lord Torrington, wrapped in two blankets and a + patchwork quilt, clothing which he had chosen in preference to Joseph + Antony’s Sunday suit, was sitting in front of a blazing fire in the + Kinsellas’ kitchen. He held in his hand a mug full of raw spirit and hot + water, mixed in equal proportions. Each time he sipped at it he coughed. + Priscilla sat beside him with a bottle from which she offered to replenish + the mug after each sip. Lady Isabel, looking frightened but obstinate, + stood opposite him, holding the Reverend Barnabas Pennefather by the hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + “To Miss Martha Rutherford, Sponge Department, British Museum, London. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Rutherford—Having promised to write you the + dénouement, I do, of course; though the delay is longer than I expected + when promising. It was most exciting. Peter Walsh upset the <i>Tortoise</i>—on + purpose I now think—but no one else has said so <i>yet</i>—and + Lord Torrington swam for his life while his lovely daughter wrung her lily + hands in shrill despair, this being the exact opposite of what was the + case with Lord Ullin’s daughter. Joseph Antony Kinsella and Jimmy and I + rescued the drowning mariner in your boat. Frank would have done so too, + for he says he never rescued any one from a watery grave—though he + won a prize for life-saving in his swimming bath at school and I think he + wanted to get a medal—but none of us have as yet, nor won’t—but + he couldn’t get down the hill quick enough on account of his sprained + ankle, so we were off without him. I jolly well ballyragged Joseph Antony + Kinsella until he opened his last cask of illicit whisky. ‘Illicit’ is + what both father and Lord Torrington called it and at first I didn’t know + what that meant, but I looked it out in the dict. and now do know, also + how to spell it, which I shouldn’t otherwise. Then we had a most frightful + scene in Joseph Antony Kinsella’s cottage. Lady Isabel was splendid. I + never knew any one could be in love so much, especially with Barnabas. The + salt sea was frozen on her cheeks (it had been raining hard), and the salt + tears in her eyes. Sylvia Courtney told me that that poem was most + affecting, so I read it. Have you? Lord Torrington was frightfully + stony-hearted at first and finished two mugs of illicit whisky (with hot + water), coughing and swearing the whole time. Barnabas crawled. Then Mrs. + Kinsella made tea and hot pancakes in spite of the baby, which screamed; + and all was gay, though there was no butter. Peter Walsh came in while we + were at tea, having righted the <i>Tortoise</i> and bailed her out, but he + and Joseph Antony Kinsella went off together, which was just as well, for + there weren’t too many pancakes, and Lord Torrington, when he began to + soften down a bit, turned out to be hungry. In the end we all went home + together in Joseph Antony Kinsella’s big boat, Lord Torrington having put + on his clothes again and father’s oilskins, which were providentially + saved from the wreck. Lady Isabel and Barnabas held each other’s hands the + whole time in a way that I thought rather disgusting, though Cousin Frank + says it is common enough among those in that state. I hope I never shall + be; but of course I may. One can’t be really sure beforehand. Anyhow I + shan’t like it if I am. Lady Isabel did, which made it worse. Father met + us at the quay and said he didn’t believe there was a single grain of shot + in the whole of Timothy Sweeny’s fat body and that the entire thing was a + plant. I didn’t understand this at the time, though now I do; but it’s too + long to write; though it would interest you if written. + </p> + <p> + “For days and days Lady Torrington was more obdurate than the winter wind + and the serpent’s tooth. She said those two things often and often, and + the one about the winter wind shows that she has read ‘As You Like It.’ I + don’t know the one about the serpent’s tooth. It may be in Shakespeare, + but is <i>not</i> in Wordsworth’s ‘Excursion.’ I think she meant Lady + Isabel, not herself. Barnabas slept in the Geraghtys’ gate lodge, a bed + being made up for him and food sent down, though he was let in to lunch + with us after a time. There were terrific consultations which I did not + hear, being of course regarded as a child. Nor did Cousin Frank, which was + rather insulting to him, considering that he can behave quite like a grown + up when he tries. But all came right in the end. We think that Lord + Torrington has promised to make Barnabas a bishop in the army, which + Cousin Frank says he can do quite easily if he likes, being the head of + the War Office. Father kept harping on, especially at luncheon, when + Barnabas was there, to find out why they fled to Rosnacree. Rose, the + under housemaid, told me that it came out in the end that Lady Isabel + simply went to the man at Euston station and asked for a ticket to the + furthest off place he sold tickets to. This, may be true. Rose heard it + from Mrs. Geraghty, who came up every day to hook Lady Torrington’s back. + But I doubt it myself. There must be further off places than Rosnacree, + though, of course, not many. At one time there threatened to be rather a + row about our not giving up the fugitives to justice, and Aunt Juliet + tried to say nasty things about aiding and abetting (whatever they mean). + But I said that wouldn’t have happened because we didn’t particularly care + for Lady Isabel and simply loathed Barnabas, if it hadn’t been for the + dastardly way Lord Torrington sprained Frank’s ankle, so that they had no + one to blame but themselves. Lord Torrington, who isn’t really a bad sort + at times, quite saw this and said he wouldn’t have sprained Frank’s ankle + if he hadn’t been upset at the time on account of Lady Isabel’s having + eluded his vigilance and escaped. This just shows how careful we ought to + be about our lightest and most innocent actions. No one would expect any + dire results to come of simply spraining a young man’s ankle on a steamer; + but they did; which is the way many disasters occur and often we don’t + find out why even afterwards, though in this case Lord Torrington did, + thanks to me. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph Antony Kinsella and Peter Walsh and Timothy Sweeny and Patsy the + smith came up one day on a deputation with a donkey load of turf for + father and Lord Torrington, which seemed curious, but wasn’t, really + because there were bottles and bottles of illicit whisky under the turf. + Lord Torrington made a speech to them and said that all would be forgiven + and forgotten and that he would leave the whisky in his will to his + grandson, who might drink it perhaps; which shows, we think, that he is + taking Barnabas to his heart, or else he would hardly be saving up the + whisky in the way he said he would. So, as Shakespeare says, ‘All’s well + that ends well.’ + </p> + <p> + “Your affect, friend, + </p> + <p> + “Priscilla Lentaigne.” + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—I couldn’t write while they were here on account of the + thunderous condition of the atmosphere and not knowing exactly how things + would turn out, which is the cause of your not getting this letter sooner. + Since they left, Barnabas and all, Aunt Juliet has dropped being a + suffragette in disgust (you can’t wonder after the way Lady Isabel turned + out to have deceived her) and has taken up appendicitis warmly. She says + it’s far more important really than uric acid or fresh air, and is + thinking of going up to Dublin next week for an operation. Father says it + was bound to be either that or spiritualism because they are the only two + things left which she hadn’t tried. It’s rather unlucky, I think, for Aunt + Juliet, being so very intellectual. I’m glad I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Priscilla’s Spies, by George A. Birmingham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISCILLA’S SPIES *** + +***** This file should be named 21394-h.htm or 21394-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/3/9/21394/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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