Priscilla's Spies
pushed the boat’s head round. Both sails filled with wind. Priscilla
held the tiller across the boat without effect The Tortoise heeled over,
and with a graceful swerve sailed up to the shore again.
“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.”
This time the Tortoise swung round and headed for the entrance of the
bay.
“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.”
“There’s no necessity for any excitement,” said Priscilla. “Let
everybody keep quite calm. We are bound to catch them.”
The Tortoise 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 Tortoise began to
overhaul her rapidly.
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
Flanagan’s old boat ran on. Seen from the Tortoise she seemed to
pass through an unbroken line of rocks. She twisted and turned now
southwards, now west, now northwards. The Tortoise sped after her.
“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.”
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 Tortoise swept through. A mass
of floating seaweed met them. The Tortoise fell off from the wind and
slipped inside it. A heavy bump followed.
“Up centreboard,” said Priscilla. “I knew it was shallow.”
Frank pulled vigorously. Another bump followed.
“Bother!” said Priscilla. “We’re done now.”
The Tortoise swept up into the wind. Her sails flapped helplessly.
“What’s the matter?” said Miss Rutherford.
“Rudder’s gone,” said Priscilla. “That last bump unshipped it.”
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 Tortoise, after making one or two ineffective
efforts to sail without a rudder, grounded on the beach of Craggeen
Island. Priscilla jumped out.
“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.”
“Frank,” said Miss Rutherford, when Priscilla had disappeared, “have you
any idea how we are to keep the boat from drifting?”
“There’s the anchor,” said Frank.
“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.”
The Tortoise, 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.
“I think,” said Miss Rutherford, “I’ll stand in the water and hold her
till Priscilla comes back. It’s not deep.”
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 Tortoise. Priscilla was to be seen on the point of the island
watching Flanagan’s old boat.
“Let’s eat some peppermint creams,” said Miss Rutherford. “They’ll keep
us warm.”
“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.”
“I’m enjoying myself thoroughly,” said Miss Rutherford. “I wonder what
will happen next. We can’t go on without a rudder, can we?”
“She’ll get it back. It’s quite near us.”
“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.”
Miss Rutherford waded round the stern of the Tortoise 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.
“Thank goodness,” she said, “here’s Jimmy Kinsella coming in the other
boat. He’ll get the rudder.”
CHAPTER XIII
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.
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.
They could see the patch of the Tortoise’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.
She returned to the Tortoise. 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.
“What’s Jimmy jawing about?” said Priscilla.
“I’m after telling the lady,” said Jimmy, “that you’ll sail no more
today.”
“Will I not? And why?”
“You will not,” said Jimmy, “because the rudder iron is broke on you.”
“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.”
“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.”
“It could,” said Priscilla, “and, what’s more, it would, only for that
old rudder.”
“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.”
“I’m going on to Curraunbeg,” said Priscilla, “I’ll steer with an oar.”
“Is it steer with an oar, Miss?”
“Haven’t you often done it yourself, Jimmy?”
“Not that one,” said Jimmy, pointing to the Tortoise.
“Sure my da’s said to me many’s the time how that one is pretty near as
giddy as yourself.”
“Your da talks too much,” said Priscilla. “Come on, Cousin Frank. What
about you, Miss Rutherford? Are you coming?”
“You’ll not go,” said Jimmy, “or if you do, you’ll walk.”
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.
“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.”
Priscilla surrendered. It is, after all, impossible to sail a boat
without water. The Tortoise 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 Tortoise 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.
Miss Rutherford, the broken rudder still on her knees, and Frank, were
left on shore.
“Do you think,” she said, “that Priscilla intends to maroon us here?
She’s gone without us.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Franks “It’s not my fault. I couldn’t stop
her.”
“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.”
“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.”
Jimmy Kinsella appeared, strolling quietly along the shore.
“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.”
“Priscilla is perfectly splendid,” said Miss Rutherford, “and we’re not
going to be marooned after all. Come along, Frank.”
“The young lady says, Miss,” said Jimmy, “that if you’d go to her the