The Tortoise, a stiff breeze filling her sails, darted out to mid-channel. Peter Walsh paid out his main sheet and set her running dead before the wind.
“It’ll come round to the southeast,” he said, “before we’re half an hour out.”
Sir Lucius waved his hand. Then he turned and followed the sergeant into Sweeny’s house.
CHAPTER XXI
The Blue Wanderer, with her little lug, sailed slowly even when there was a fresh wind right behind her. It was half-past ten when Priscilla and Frank ran her aground on Inishbawn. Joseph Antony Kinsella had seen them coming and was standing on the shore ready to greet them.
“You’re too venturesome, Miss, to be coming out all this way in that little boat,” he said.
“We came safe enough,” said Priscilla, “didn’t ship a drop the whole way out.”
“You came safe,” said Kinsella, “but will you tell me how you’re going to get home again? The wind’s freshening and what’s more it’s drawing round to the southeast.”
“Let it. If we can’t get home, we can’t, that’s all. I suppose Mrs. Kinsella will bake us a loaf of bread for breakfast tomorrow. Cousin Frank, you’ll have to make Barnabas take you into his tent. He can’t very well refuse on account of being a clergyman and so more or less pledged to deeds of charity. I’ll curl up in a corner of Lady Isabel’s pavilion. By the way, Joseph Antony, how are the young people getting on?”