“I’ll launch her if your honour bids me,” said Peter Walsh. “But what use will she be to you when she’s in the water? She’ll not work to windward for you under the little lug that’s in her, and it’s from the west the wind’s coming now.”
He looked round the sky as he spoke.
“Glory be to God!” he said. “Will you look at what’s coming. There’s thunder in it and maybe worse.”
Sir Lucius took Lord Torrington by the arm and led him out of earshot of the police sergeant and Peter Walsh.
“We’d better not go today, Torrington. There’s a thunder storm coming. We’d simply get drenched.”
“I don’t care if I am drenched.”
“And besides we can’t go. There isn’t a boat. We couldn’t get anywhere in that little thing of Priscilla’s. After all if she’s on an island today she’ll be there tomorrow.”
“If that fool of a sergeant told us the truth this morning,” said Lord Torrington, “and there’s some man with her I want to break every bone in his body as soon as I can.”
“He’ll be there tomorrow,” said Sir Lucius, “and I’ll see that there’s a boat here to take us out.”