“And where was the boat all this time?”
“Sleeping with us, too, sir.”
I then shortly detailed what had happened to me, which amused the captain much. “And so,” he continued, “after all, you have brought off the sand. I really commend your perseverance.”
A bucket of sand was handed up, and Mr Farmer contemptuously filtered it through his fingers; then turning to me wrathfully, exclaimed, “How dare you bring off for sand, such shelly, pebbly, gritty stuff as this, sir?”
“If you please, sir, I had no hand in putting it where I found it, and I only obeyed orders in bringing it off.” For I really felt it to be very unjust to be blamed for the act of nature, and especially as three lives had been endangered to procure a few buckets of worthless earth.
The captain thought so too; for he said to Mr Farmer, very coldly, “I think you should have ascertained the quality of the sand before you sent for it; and I don’t think that you should have sent for it at all towards nightfall, and at the beginning of ebb tide. Youngster, you shall dine with me to-day, and give me a history of the O’Tooles.”