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Updated: October 29, 2025
I pulled up my centreboard, ran full tilt into the mud, took in sail, and, standing in the stern, as I had often done at low tide, I began to shove the skiff with an oar. It was then that my correlations began to break down. I lost my balance and pitched head-foremost into the ooze.
They reached the passage past Craggeen when the tide was at the full and threaded their way among the rocks successfully. They passed into the wide water of Finilaun roads. A long reach lay before them and the wind had begun to die down as the tide turned. Priscilla, leaving Frank to steer, settled herself comfortably on the weather side of the boat between the centreboard case and the gunwale.
Driven desperately by a squally and uncertain southeast wind, with a welter of short waves knocking his boat's head about in the most incalculable way, he had succeeded in upsetting her about six yards from the shore of an island on to the point of which she was certain to drift, with no more than four feet of water under her at the critical moment The Tortoise, having no ballast in her and depending entirely for stability on her fin-like centreboard was not, as Peter Walsh knew very well, in the smallest danger of sinking.
"You're out for a sail again today, Miss?" he said. "Well, it's fine weather for the likes of you." "At the present moment," said Priscilla, "we're stuck and can't get out." "Do you tell me that now? And what's the matter with you?" "The anchor rope is foul of the centreboard and we can't get either the one or the other of them to move." "Begor!" said Joseph Antony.
He grasped the rope indicated to him and then heard a noise as if some one at the bottom of the sea, an angry mermaid perhaps, was striking the keel of the boat hard with a hammer. "She's touching," said Priscilla. "Up centreboard, quick." Frank gazed at her in pained bewilderment. He had not the least idea of what she wanted him to do.
She was a big, flat-bottomed, square-sterned craft, sloop-rigged, with a sprung mast, slack rigging, dilapidated sails, and rotten running-gear, clumsy to handle and uncertain in bringing about, and she smelled vilely of coal tar, with which strange stuff she had been smeared from stem to stern and from cabin-roof to centreboard.
You'll want something of the sort I feel thrills down to the tips of my fingers." Flanagan's old boat ran on. Seen from the Tortoise she seemed to pass through an unbroken line of rocks. She twisted and turned now southwards, now west, now northwards. The Tortoise sped after her. "Now, Cousin Frank," said Priscilla, "get hold of the centreboard rope and haul when I tell you.
But our prisoner came unexpectedly to our aid. His black eyes were flashing eagerly, and his face was flushed with suppressed excitement, as he dropped the centreboard, sprang forward with a single leap, and put up the sail. "I've always heard that Greeks don't like Italians," Charley laughed, as he ran aft to the tiller.
Kinsella went off at a sharp trot towards the south end of the island. "Of course," said Priscilla in a calmer tone, "he really may not have any more. That might have been the last barrel which I saw under the gravel the day before yesterday when our anchor rope got foul of the centreboard. I don't expect it was quite the last, but it may have been.
Descending, then, the forward hatch, protected by a plain hatch house, the visitor turns around and facing aft, looks down the two sides of the immense centreboard box that occupies the centre of our wardroom from floor to deck.
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