"Can we make it in three jumps, Terrence?" they heard.
"No, ye fule. The wather's goin' down. Howld yer whist."
Murphy, looking out through the deadlight, could see nothing of the water between the ship and the beach; but far down to the south he discerned a team of horses dragging a wagon holding a boat, and this he explained to the skipper.
"The coast guard," explained the latter. "God grant that they get here before that bunch gets away. English law is severe upon mutineers."
But in this Captain Williams was doomed to disappointment. The coast guard arrived in time and released them. But before this each man of the twenty-four had passed before the open deadlight, derided and jeered the unlucky prisoners, called them unprintable names, and slid down the side on a rope to dry land.
Murphy looked at them climbing the hills inland, their whoops and yells coming back to him like pæans of victory.
"And what county do ye think this is, Skipper?" he asked.
"The county of Cork, of course," answered the captain.
"Well," said Murphy, "an enemy's country. We'll hope that the county o' Cork 'll take care o' thim. They're beyand you and me and Hennesey, Skipper."