“I have not,” said Peter. “Is it likely I would with Sweeny’s shop shut on account of the accident that’s after happening to him?”
“Don’t you give him a drop, Torrington, while you’re on the sea with him. You can fill him up with whisky when you get home if you like.”
“I wouldn’t be for going very far today,” said Peter Walsh. “It looks to me as if it might come on to blow from the southeast.”
“You’ll go out to Inishbawn first of all,” said Sir Lucius. “After that you can work home in and out, visiting every island that’s big enough to have people on it. The weather won’t hurt you.”
“Sure if his lordship’s contented,” said Peter, “it isn’t for me to be making objections.”
“Very well,” said Sir Lucius. “Get the sails on the boat. You can tie down a reef if you like.”
“There’s no need,” said Peter. “She’ll go better under the whole sail.”
“Now, sergeant,” said Sir Lucius, “I’ll just see them start, and then I’ll go back and listen to whatever story Sweeny wants to tell.”
Peter Walsh huddled himself into an ancient oilskin coat, ferried out to the Tortoise and hoisted the sails. He laid her long side the slip with a neatness and precision which proved his ability to sail a small boat. Lord Torrington stepped carefully on board and settled himself crouched into a position undignified for a member of the Cabinet, on the side of the centreboard case recommended by Peter Walsh.
“Got your sandwiches all right?” said Sir Lucius, “and the flask? Good. Then off you go. Now, Peter, Inishbawn first and after that wherever you’re told to go. If you get wet, Torrington, don’t blame me. Now, sergeant, I’m ready.”