I peered out anxiously and as best I could without showing myself. By their footsteps and voices there were two persons. And when they came nearer, and I caught a momentary glance as they climbed the path to the cabin, I recognised in one of them the face of one of my late captors.
Whether they were here after me or on some other mischief I could not guess. But I hid low, as you may fancy.
Then a sudden thought came to me. The boat was down at the pier. Why should I stay where I was, hunted like a partridge, while across the lough I should at least be no worse off, and have seven clear miles of water between me and my pursuers? Now was my time if ever. Besides—and once more I think I blushed, even under the bracken—on the other side of the lough was my little Lady Kit.
So while the two men walked up the steep path to the cabin I slipped from my hiding-place and ran down to the boat. And a minute later I was clear of the land, with my bows pointing, as they had pointed so often before, for the grim turrets of Kilgorman.
Chapter Twelve.
How I joined the good ship “Arrow.”
It was a still, sultry afternoon, and as I lay on my oars half-a-mile from shore I made up my mind I had little help to look for from the breezes; nor, as the tide was then running, could I afford to drift. I must row steadily, unless I wished to find myself out in the open, without supplies, before nightfall. However, that was no great hardship, and after my idle week in the cave I was glad enough (had my stomach only been a little less empty!) of a little hard work.
Whether the two men whose boat I had borrowed discovered their loss sooner or later I do not know to this day. But they might have left me a handier craft. I knew her of yore, an old Rathmullan tub, useful enough to ferry market women across to Inch, but ill-suited for a single rower on a windless sea.