“I’m enjoying myself thoroughly,” said Miss Rutherford. “I wonder what will happen next. We can’t go on without a rudder, can we?” “She’ll get it back. It’s quite near us.” “So it is. I see it bobbing up and down against the rocks there. I think I’ll go after it myself. It will be a pleasant surprise for Priscilla when she comes back to find that we’ve got it. Do you think you can hold the boat by yourself? She seems quieter than she was.” Miss Rutherford waded round the stern of the Tortoise and set off towards the rudder. The water was not deep in any part of the channel, but there were holes here and there. When Miss Rutherford stepped into them she stood in water up to her knees. There were also slippery stones and once she staggered and very nearly fell. She saved herself by plunging one arm elbow deep in front of her. She hesitated and looked round. “Thank goodness,” she said, “here’s Jimmy Kinsella coming in the other boat. He’ll get the rudder.” CHAPTER XIII Beyond the rock-strewn passage of Craggeen lies the wide roadstead of Finilaun. Here the water is deep, and the shelter, from every quarter, almost complete. Across the western end of it stretches like a bent bow, the long island of Finilaun. On the south, reaching almost to the point of Finilaun, is Craggeen, and between the two is a shallow strait. On the east is the mainland, broken and bitten into with long creeks and bays. On the north lies a chain of islands, Ilaunure, Curraunbeg and Curraunmor, separated from each other by narrow channels, through which the tide runs strongly in and out of the roadstead. Across the open roadstead Flanagan’s old boat crept under her patched lug sail. Priscilla, standing on the shore of Craggeen, watched eagerly. At first she could see the occupants of the boat quite plainly, a man at the tiller, a woman sitting forward near the mast. She had no difficulty in recognising them. The man wore the white sweater which had attracted her attention when she first saw him, a garment most unusual among boatmen in Rosnacree Bay. The woman was the same who had mopped her dripping companion with a pocket handkerchief on Inishark. They talked eagerly together. Now and then the man turned and looked back at Craggeen. The woman pointed something out to him. Priscilla understood.