“My own belief is,” said Priscilla, “that she simply trotted out those zoophyte things and the British Museum when she found that we weren’t inclined to swallow the ordinary sponge. At the same time I can’t believe that she’s a criminal of any kind. She struck me as being an uncommonly good sort. The wind’s dropping. I told you it would. Very soon now we shall have to row. Can you row, Cousin Frank?”
Frank replied with cheerful confidence that he could. He had sat at Priscilla’s feet all day and bowed to her superior knowledge of sailing. When it came to rowing he was sure that he could hold his own. He understood the phraseology of the art, had learned to take advantage of sliding seats, could keep his back straight and had been praised by a member of a University eight for his swing.
“The other mystery,” said Priscilla, “is Inishbawn. The Kinsellas won’t let the spies land on the island. They won’t let Miss Rutherford. They won’t let you, They tell every kind of ridiculous story to head people off.”
The thought of his prowess as an oarsman had restored Frank’s self-respect. He recollected the reason given by Jimmy Kinsella for not allowing Miss Rutherford to land on Inishbawn.
“I don’t see anything ridiculous about it,” he said. “Young Kinsella simply said that it wasn’t a suitable place for ladies. There are lots of places we men go to where we wouldn’t take———-”
His sentence tailed away. Priscilla’s eyes expressed an amount of amusement which made him feel singularly uncomfortable.
“That,” she said, “is the most utter rot I’ve ever heard in my life. And in any case, even if it was true, it wouldn’t apply to us. Jimmy Kinsella distinctly said that I might land on the island as much as I like, but that he jolly well wouldn’t have you. We may just as well row now as later on. The breeze is completely gone.”
She got out the oars and dropped the rowlocks into their holes. She pulled stroke oar herself. Frank settled himself on the seat behind her. He found himself in a position of extreme discomfort. The Tortoise was designed and built to be a sailing boat. It was not originally contemplated that she should be rowed far or rowed fast. When Frank leaned back at the end of his stroke he bumped against the mast. When he swung forward in the proper way he hit Priscilla between the shoulders with his knuckles. When the boat shot forward the boom swung inboard. If this happened at the end of a stroke Frank was hit on the shoulder. If it happened at the beginning of a stroke the spar struck him on the ear. However he shifted his position he was unable to avoid sitting on some rope. The centreboard case was between his legs and when he tried to get his injured foot against anything firm he found it entangled in ropes which he could not kick away. Priscilla complained.
“Put a little more beef into it, Cousin Frank,” she said. “I’m pulling her head round all the time.”
Frank put all the energy he could into a series of short jerky strokes, using the muscles of his arms, failing altogether to get the weight of his body on the oar. At the end of twenty minutes Priscilla gave him a rest.