"I bes a poor man now," he said. "Sure, them robbers broke t'rough this harbor somethin' desperate! Didn't the back o' the chimley look like the divil had been a-clawin' it out?"
"Quick come and quick go! Ye bes lucky, lad, they didn't sail away wid yer fore-an'-after," said Mother Nolan.
"Aye, Granny; but it do beat me how ever they come to dig up the kitchen-floor."
"Sure, an' they didn't," said Mary. "'Twas meself done that—an' sent the red an' white diamonds away wid Flora's man. 'Twas himself ye took 'em from, Denny Nolan."
"An' a good thing, too," said Mother Nolan. "Sure, ye sent all the curses o' Chance Along away together, Mary dear! There bain't no luck in wracked gold, nor wracked diamonds—nor wracked women! Grub an' gear bes our right; but not gold an' humans."
The skipper gazed at the girl until her eyes met his.
"Was ye workin' agin me all the time?" he asked, quietly.
"Nay, Denny, but I was workin' for ye—all the time," she whispered.
"Sure she was," said Mother Nolan, puffing at her pipe. "Aye—an' many's the time 'twas on me tongue to call her a fool for her trouble, ye was that bewitched an' bemazed, lad."
The skipper stared at the floor for a long time, in silence. At last he said, "Wid the way ye was workin', Mary, the wonder bes to me what for ye risked the knife in yer neck to save me life from the Frenchman."