Priscilla's Spies
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.
“Then I suppose I may,” said Miss Rutherford. “I should like to more
than anything. I so seldom get the chance.”
She bit and munched heartily; bit again, and smiled at Frank. He began
to feel more at his ease.
“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.”
“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?”
“Only the juice of the tinned peaches.”
“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?”
“Any way you like,” said Frank. “I believe there’s a bailer somewhere if
you prefer it.”
“I prefer the tin, if it doesn’t shock you.”
“Oh,” said Frank, “nothing shocks me.”
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.
“I’m afraid,” she said, “that you were just as sceptical as your cousin
was about my sponges.”
“I was rather surprised.”
“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.”
“Oh,” said Frank vaguely.
“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.”
“It must be most interesting.”
“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----”
“In tents?” said Frank with interest.
“Tents! No. In quite the sweetest cottage you ever saw. I sleep on a
sofa in the porch. What put tents into your head?”
“Then it wasn’t Professor Wilder and his wife whose boat you rescued
just now?”
“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.”
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.
Jimmy Kinsella was sitting in front of his boat gazing placidly at the
sea when Priscilla tapped him on the shoulder.
“What are you doing here, Jimmy?” she said.
“Is that yourself, Miss?” said Jimmy, eyeing her quietly.
“It is. And the only other person present is you. Now we’ve got that
settled.”
Jimmy Kinsella grinned.
“I thought it was the Tortoise 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.’”
“You haven’t told me yet,” said Priscilla, “what you’re doing here.”
“I’m out along with the lady beyond.”
“I could see that much for myself. What’s she doing?”
“Without she’d be trying the salt water for the good of her health, I
don’t know what she’s doing.”
“I thought at first that it might be that,” said Priscilla. “Has she any
sponges with her?”
“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.”
“I just thought she hadn’t.”
“If I was to be put on my oath,” said Jimmy slowly, “and was to be asked
what I thought of her----”
“That’s just what I am asking you.”
“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.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The skin of her.”
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.
“Ah!” she said, “when she took off her shoes and stockings?”
“Saving your presence, Miss, the legs of her doesn’t look as if she was
accustomed to going about that way.”
“And that’s all you know about her?”
“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.”
“That was the gentleman who has Flanagan’s old boat, I suppose?”
“It was not then, but a different gentleman altogether.”
“Then you can leave him out,” said Priscilla, “and tell me all you know
about the other couple, the ones who lost their boat.”
“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?”
“Four pounds a week.”
“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.”
“On account of the rats?”
“Rats! What rats?”
“The rats that have the island very nearly eaten,” said Priscilla.
“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.”
“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?”
“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.”
“What fever?”
“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.”
“Do you expect me to believe all that?” said Priscilla.
“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.”
“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.”
“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----”
“I know what the gentleman is in a boat,” said Priscilla.
“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.”
“I thought,” said Priscilla, “that your mother was out all over yellow
spots. What does she know about them?”
Jimmy Kinsella grinned sheepishly.
“Believe you me, Miss,” he said, “if it was only yourself that was in
it----”
“There’d be neither rats nor fever on the island, I suppose.”
Jimmy looked towards the Tortoise and let his eyes rest with an
inquiring expression on Frank Mannix.
“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.”
“That might be,” said Jimmy.
“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.”
“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.”
His eyes were still fixed on Frank Mannix when Priscilla left him.
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 Tortoise and the sea. She calculated that she might get off in about
an hour.
When she reached the Tortoise she found Frank pressing the last half
peach on their guest.
“Miss Rutherford,” said Priscilla, “have you landed on Inishbawn, that
island to the west of you, behind the corner of Illaunglos?”
“No,” she said. “I wanted to, but the boy who’s rowing me strongly
advised me not to.”
“Rats?” Said Priscilla, “or fever?”
Miss Rutherford seemed puzzled by the inquiry.
“What I mean,” said Priscilla, “is this: did he give you any reason for
not landing on the island?”
“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.”
“Oh, you still stick to those sponges?” said Priscilla.
“Miss Rutherford,” said Frank, “is collecting zoophytes for the British
Museum.”
“Investigating and tabulating,” said Miss Rutherford, “for the Royal
Dublin Society’s Natural History Survey.”
“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.”
“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.”
Jimmy Kinsella sat on a stone with his back to the party in the
Tortoise. 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
Tortoise. 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