She took the captain with her, and walked down to the cove where the boat lay. Una and Maurice, with their bundles of clothes, followed. “Una,” said Maurice, “what does she mean? I can’t take this man in the boat, and I won’t. What does she mean by inviting him?” “I don’t know, but we must trust her. We can trust her. She’s been wonderful all these last three days. Only for her I could never have got food to Neal.” “Well,” said Maurice, “I suppose if the worst comes to the worst it will only be a matter of knocking him on the head with an oar. I don’t want to do that if I can help it. My lord will be angry if he has to get me out of a fresh scrape. It will be a serious matter to assault this captain in cold blood. I’ll do it, of course, if necessary, but I would rather not.” The boat was dragged down the beach. The Comtesse looked at it, and protested. “Maurice, surely you are not going in that little boat. It’s far too small. It’s not safe.” “Oh, it’s safe enough,” said Maurice, “and anyway there’s no other.” “There is,” said the Comtesse. “There, look at that nice broad, flat boat. I’ll go in that.” “The cobble for lifting the salmon net!” said Maurice, with a laugh. “My dear aunt, you couldn’t go to sea in that. She can’t sail, and it takes four men to pull her as fast as a snail would crawl. Who ever heard of going off to the Skerries in a salmon cobble?” “Well,” said the Comtesse, angrily, “I won’t go in the other. I know that one is too small. Isn’t she too small, Captain Twinely? Look at the size of the sea. Look how far off the island is! No, I won’t go. If you persist in being disobliging, Maurice, you and Una can go by yourselves. Captain Twinely and I will stay on shore.” The boat was already in the water and Una sat in the stern. Maurice, ankle deep in water, held her bow. Maurice laughed aloud. He began to understand his aunt’s plan. “Come, Captain Twinely, we will go for a walk along the cliffs.” Her hand was on his arm. She held him. He looked at the boat. A swift doubt shot through his mind. Something in the way Maurice laughed aroused his suspicion. He took a step forward. The Comtesse clung tightly to his arm. Maurice gave a vigorous shove and leapt forward over the bow. The boat shot out and floated clear of the land. “Isn’t he a disagreeable boy?” said the Comtesse. “You wouldn’t have refused to do what I asked you, would you, Captain Twinely?” Her eyes sought his, but he was watching the boat uneasily. Maurice had the oars out, and was pulling round the Black Rock. “He’s not going to the Skerries,” he said, “he’s going in the other direction.” “What does it matter where he goes? Besides, you know what stupid things boats are. They always turn away from the place they want to go to. It’s what they call tacking. Maurice must be tacking now. Let him manage his horrid boat himself. We needn’t trouble ourselves about him. We will go for a walk on the tops of the cliffs.”