“Isn’t there some man about the place I could take with me?” said Lord Torrington. Peter Walsh was hovering in the background with his eyes fixed anxiously on Sir Lucius and the police sergeant. Sir Lucius looking around caught sight of him. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you like,” said Sir Lucius. “I’ll send Peter Walsh with you. He’s an unmitigated blackguard, but he knows the bay like the palm of his hand and he can sail the boat. Come here, Peter.” Peter Walsh stepped forward, touching his hat and smiling respectfully. “Peter,” said Sir Lucius, “Lord Torrington wants to take a sail round the islands in the bay. I can’t go with him myself, so you must. Have you taken any drink this morning?” “I have not,” said Peter. “Is it likely I would with Sweeny’s shop shut on account of the accident that’s after happening to him?” “Don’t you give him a drop, Torrington, while you’re on the sea with him. You can fill him up with whisky when you get home if you like.” “I wouldn’t be for going very far today,” said Peter Walsh. “It looks to me as if it might come on to blow from the southeast.” “You’ll go out to Inishbawn first of all,” said Sir Lucius. “After that you can work home in and out, visiting every island that’s big enough to have people on it. The weather won’t hurt you.” “Sure if his lordship’s contented,” said Peter, “it isn’t for me to be making objections.” “Very well,” said Sir Lucius. “Get the sails on the boat. You can tie down a reef if you like.” “There’s no need,” said Peter. “She’ll go better under the whole sail.” “Now, sergeant,” said Sir Lucius, “I’ll just see them start, and then I’ll go back and listen to whatever story Sweeny wants to tell.” Peter Walsh huddled himself into an ancient oilskin coat, ferried out to the Tortoise and hoisted the sails. He laid her long side the slip with a neatness and precision which proved his ability to sail a small boat. Lord Torrington stepped carefully on board and settled himself crouched into a position undignified for a member of the Cabinet, on the side of the centreboard case recommended by Peter Walsh. “Got your sandwiches all right?” said Sir Lucius, “and the flask? Good. Then off you go. Now, Peter, Inishbawn first and after that wherever you’re told to go. If you get wet, Torrington, don’t blame me. Now, sergeant, I’m ready.” The Tortoise, a stiff breeze filling her sails, darted out to mid-channel. Peter Walsh paid out his main sheet and set her running dead before the wind. “It’ll come round to the southeast,” he said, “before we’re half an hour out.” Sir Lucius waved his hand. Then he turned and followed the sergeant into Sweeny’s house. CHAPTER XXI The Blue Wanderer, with her little lug, sailed slowly even when there was a fresh wind right behind her. It was half-past ten when Priscilla and Frank ran her aground on Inishbawn. Joseph Antony Kinsella had seen them coming and was standing on the shore ready to greet them.