“I suppose we must shift as well as we can till we make the mainland!”
“This fellow here in the boat, Sir,” said a sailor, touching his cap as he came aft, “says that his master has three or four larch-trees about the length we want.”
“No, no, Crab,” whispered Vyner; “I don’t think we can do anything in that quarter.”
“Would he sell us one of them, my man?” cried Grab to the peasant.
“He’d give it to you,” said the man, half doggedly.
“Yes, but we’d rather make a deal for it. Look here, my good fellow; do you go back and fetch us the longest and stoutest of those poles, and here’s a guinea for your own trouble. Do you understand me?”
The man eyed the coin curiously, but made no motion to touch it. It was a metal he had never seen before, nor had he the faintest clue to its value.
“Would you rather have these, then?” said Crab, taking a handful of silver from his pocket and offering it to him.
The man drew the back of his hand across his eyes, as if the sight had dazzled him, and muttered something in Irish.
“Come, say you’ll do it,” said Crab, encouragingly.