220 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT | 



answered, 'Divil a doubt of it, yer honour, they're ' 

 full to the bung.' 



'Which way now, Pat? We must apply elsewhere/ 



The answer I got was disconcerting, — 



'Begorra, then it's not meself that'll be knowing 

 where that'll be unless yer honours will be for going 

 back to where ye landed and have me cabin and 

 welcome.' 



I have no idea how I looked at this, but the situa- 

 tion evidently appealed to Harry, for he burst out 

 laughing and said, as he shook with it, *It's worth 

 the journey to see your face, dad; ^it's just 

 lovely.' 



Ignoring my son's remarks, I said, 'Thank you, 

 Pat, for your kind offer, but I will get a boat and cross 

 over to the mainland.' 



We were on the httle quay in sight of boats that 

 bobbed at anchor and others stranded on the beach. 

 We looked at them and then at each other, and I was 

 forced to admit we should need something a trifle 

 larger. Pat said coaxingly, 'It's back to me cabin 

 ye'll be going, sorr.' One last longing look at the 

 boats brought my eyes to a point of land that jutted 

 out and partly hid the ofhng, and there I saw a sail 

 that soon brought a craft to view which might have 

 a captain whom I could prevail upon to take us off. 

 We found that she was loaded with porter and captained 

 by Mr Darby Green. He was a sandy-whiskered, red- 

 faced, stuggy, unprepossessing man that snapped 

 at me when I asked him if he could take us across, 

 'I'm going to discharge this cargo before I leave this 

 quay, and that won't be to-night.' With that he 

 threw another rope to the man on shore. 



I would not see his ugly face nor hear his snarls, 

 but continued to speak to him as if assured that he 

 would ultimately give way, and I admired the little 

 vessel; she seemed designed for rough weather, and this 

 prompted me to say, 'She is trim and snug, captain, 



i 



