“And what for?”
“Unless it’s to go out to Inishbawn,” said Peter, “I don’t know what for.”
“Bedamn then,” said Sweeny, “there’s no boat for them.”
“I was thinking that myself.”
“I wouldn’t wonder,” said Sweeney, “but something might stop Joseph Antony Kinsella from coming in today after all, thought he’s due with another load of gravel.”
“He mightn’t come,” said Patsy the smith. “There’s many a thing could happen to prevent him.”
“What time were they thinking of starting?” said Sweeny.
“Twelve o’clock,” said Peter Walsh.
“Patsy,” said Sweeny, “let you take Brannigan’s old punt and go down as far as the stone perch to try can you see Joseph Antony Kinsella coming in.”
Patsy the smith was in a condition of great physical misery; but the occasion demanded energy and self-sacrifice. He staggered down to the slip, loosed the mooring rope of Brannigan’s dilapidated punt and drove her slowly down the harbour, waggling one oar over her stern.