They could see the patch of the Tortoise’s sail above the rocks which blocked the entrance of the passage. They were no doubt wondering anxiously whether they were still pursued. Flanagan’s old boat, her sail bellied pleasantly by the following wind, drew further and further away. Priscilla could no longer distinguish the figures of the man and woman. She watched the sail. It was evident that the boat was making for one of the three northern islands. Soon it was clear that her destination was the eastern end of Curraunbeg. Either she meant to run through the passage between that island and Curraunmor, or the spies would land on Curraunbeg. The day was clear and bright. Priscilla’s eyes were good. She saw on the eastern shore of Curraunbeg a white patch, distinguishable against the green background of the field. It could be nothing else but the tents of the spies’ encampment. Flanagan’s old boat slipped round the corner of the island and disappeared. Priscilla was satisfied. She knew where the spies had settled down. She returned to the Tortoise. Frank had left the boat and was sitting on the shore. Miss Rutherford, with the recovered rudder on her knees, sat beside him. Jimmy Kinsella was standing in front of them apparently delivering a speech. The two boats lay side by side close to the shore. “What’s Jimmy jawing about?” said Priscilla. “I’m after telling the lady,” said Jimmy, “that you’ll sail no more today.” “Will I not? And why?” “You will not,” said Jimmy, “because the rudder iron is broke on you.” “That’s the worst of these boats,” said Priscilla. “The rudder sticks down six inches below the bottom of them and if there happens to be a rock anywhere in the neighborhood it’s the rudder that it’s sure to hit.” “You’ll excuse me saying so, Miss, but you’d no right to be trying to get through Craggeen at this time of the tide. It couldn’t be done.” “It could,” said Priscilla, “and, what’s more, it would, only for that old rudder.” “Any way,” said Jimmy; “you’ll sail no more today, and it’ll be lucky if you sail tomorrow for you’ll have to give that rudder to Patsy, the smith, to put a new iron on it and that same Patsy isn’t one that likes doing anything in a hurry.” “I’m going on to Curraunbeg,” said Priscilla, “I’ll steer with an oar.” “Is it steer with an oar, Miss?” “Haven’t you often done it yourself, Jimmy?” “Not that one,” said Jimmy, pointing to the Tortoise. “Sure my da’s said to me many’s the time how that one is pretty near as giddy as yourself.” “Your da talks too much,” said Priscilla. “Come on, Cousin Frank. What about you, Miss Rutherford? Are you coming?” “You’ll not go,” said Jimmy, “or if you do, you’ll walk.” Priscilla looked out at the sea. The tide was falling rapidly. Through the opening of the passage which led into Finilaun roadstead there was no more than a trickle of water running like a brook over the stony bottom.