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.

For all that I was glad enough to have her, and feel myself once more my
own master.

I would fain have put her head to Knockowen had I dared. But there I
knew I could not look for safety. His honour, no doubt thankful to be
allowed to consider me dead, would resent my return, and a way would
soon be had of handing me over to the League, who by this time were in
hue and cry to have my life. Martin, fool as he was, could be trusted
to see to that business, while his honour received the compliments of
his brother magistrates on his loyalty and sacrifices.

No; if I landed anywhere it must be at Kilgorman, where I should hardly
be looked for, or if I was, should possibly pass for one of the ghosts
of the place.

It was a dark night, without even a moon, before the distant light of
Knockowen far up the lough showed me I must be coming within reach of my
destination. A little breeze was now coming in from the open, which
would, did I only dare to take it, carry me to my little lady's side in
less than an hour. Alas, it was not for me! and I pulled toilfully on.

It was not without some groping that at last I found the little creek
into which the _Cigale_ was wont to creep on her secret visits; and here
at last, worn-out with fatigue and hunger, and still more with care, I
ran my boat and landed.

What to do next I hardly knew. Food was what I needed most; after that,
sleep; and after that, safety. It seemed as if I was to sup off the
last, which was poor comfort to an empty stomach. I felt my way a