and drove in within half-a-mile of the rocks. Then, while
I waited to see the end of her, she suddenly wore round, and after
staggering a moment while the sea broke over her, hauled up to the wind,
and careening over, with her mainsail sweeping the water, started gaily
on the contrary tack.

It was so unlike anything any of our clumsy trawler boats were capable
of, that I was lost in admiration at the suddenness and daring of the
manoeuvre. But Fanad was still to be weathered, and close as she sailed
to the wind, it seemed hardly possible to gain sea-room to clear it.

Yet she cleared it, even though the black rocks frowned at her not a
cable's length from her lee-quarter, and the wind laid her over so that
her mast-head seemed almost to touch them as it passed. Then, once
clear, up went her helm as she turned again into the wind, and slipped,
with the point on her weather-quarter, into the safe waters of the
lough.

I was so delighted watching this adventure from my lonely perch that I
did not notice the October afternoon was nearly spent, and that the
light was beginning to fade. The storm gathered force every moment, so
that when at last I turned to go home I had to crawl a yard or two to
shelter before I could stand on my feet.

As for the sheep, unless Tim had driven them in, which was not likely,
they would have to shift for themselves for this night. It was too late
to see them, and Con, who limped at my heels, had not a yap left in him.

As I staggered home, leaning my back against the wind, I could not help
wondering what this strange boat might be, and why she should make for
the lough on so perilous a course. She might be a smuggler anxious to
avoid the observation of the revenue officers. If so, her cargo must be
precious indeed to make up for the risk she ran. Or she might be a
foreigner, driven in by one of the king's cruisers, which had not dared
to follow her into the bay.

Whatever she was, she was a pretty sailer, and prettily handled. I
wondered if ever I, when I grew to be a man, should be able to weather a
point as skilfully.

It was night before I reached our cabin, and all there was dark.
Neither Tim nor father was home, the fire was out on the hearth, and the
poor fevered sufferer lay tossing and breathing hard on the bed.

She was worse, far worse than when we left her in the morning; and I
could have died of shame when I came to think that all those hours she
had lain alone a