you think I'm a fool, Peter?"

"I do not, Miss; but sure you know as well as I do that the mast that's
in her isn't over and above strong, and I wouldn't like anything would
happen."

"There's no wind any way."

"There is not; but I wouldn't say but there might be at the turn of the
tide."

"Haul her up to the slip," said Priscilla. "I'll be back again long
before the tide turns."

The steamer swung slowly round. The rattle of her donkey-engine was
plainly audible. The warp made fast to the buoy dipped into the water,
strained taut dripping, and then dipped again. Suddenly the captain on
the bridge shouted. The engine stopped abruptly. The warp sagged deep
into the water. A small boat with one man in her appeared close under
the steamer's bows, went foul of the warp and lay heavily listed while
one of her oars fell into the water and drifted away.

"That's a nice sort of fool to be out in a boat by himself," said
Priscilla.

"He was damn near having to swim for it," said Peter, as the boat
righted herself and slipped over the warp.

"Who is he?"

"I don't rightly know who he is," said Peter, "but he paid four pounds
for the use of Flanagan's old boat for a fortnight, so I'm thinking he
has very little sense."

"He has none," said Priscilla. "Look at him now."

The man, deprived of one of his oars, was pushing his way along the
steamer's side towards the quay. The captain was swearing heartily at
him from the bridge.

"Anyhow," said Priscilla, "I haven't time to stay here and see him
drown, though of course it would be interesting. I'm going to bathe and
I have to get back again in time to meet the train."

Peter Walsh laid the _Blue Wanderer_ alongside the slip. He laced
the new lug to its yard, made fast the tack and hoisted it, gazing
critically at it as it rose. Then he stepped out of the boat. Priscilla
flung her bathing-dress and towel on board and took her seat in the
stern.

"You'll find the tiller under the floor board, Miss. With the little
air of wind there is from the south you'll slip down to Delginish easy
enough if it's there you're thinking of going."

"Shove her head round now, Peter, and give her a push off. I'll get way
on her when I'm out a bit from the slip."

The sail flapped, bellied, flapped again, finally swung over to
starboard. Priscilla settled herself in the stern with the sheet in her
hand.

"The tide's under you, Miss," said Peter Walsh, "You'll slip out easy
enough