"Sorry, Shane!" She said with a meek courtesy. She stayed....
They passed Skerryvore.... They passed Dhu Heartach, Colonsay, Islay of McCrimmin.... Iristrahull was on the weather beam.... They swung eastward.... Irishowen Head showed off the port bow.... On an August afternoon, they slipped into Lough Foyle....
§ 15
The soft luminosity of a summer night was in it ... and a little moon, which Shane damned.... Before them rose the outline of Donegal.... On each beam they could see faintly the outlines of the bay's arms.... The schooner moved under jibs and mizzen.... From the bow was the splash of the lead....
"By the mark, fine!"
"Luff her a little, a little more ... steady!"
"Four fathoms, no bottom!"
"Keep her off a point!"
"By the deep, four!"
"How's the bottom?"