crew of the Curlew shared their commander's irritation. Every man of them had his own ties in Queenstown. There were agreeable young women there. It seemed unlikely that there would be any young women in Ballymore. If they had known the name of Matty Hynes these men would have cursed him. They had never heard of him, and so they cursed Mr. Benson, who was not really to blame. Curiously enough, neither they nor Lieutenant Eckersley cursed the people of Inishbee. It was felt in the gunboat that these unhappy islanders were the victims of official fussiness. So were the sailors. Their common sufferings created a bond of sympathy between them.
At about seven o'clock on a very fine evening the Curlew cast anchor outside Ballymore Harbour. Inishbee lay to the west, a low, black patch against the setting sun. Lieutenant Eckersley surveyed it through his glasses and sighed. Then he turned and surveyed the town. It looked exceedingly uninteresting. He sighed again. A fishing-boat stole out of the harbour, her brown sail boomed out to catch the easterly breeze. She was followed by another and then another. All five fishing-boats left the harbour. This was a very unusual thing; for the Ballymore fishermen seldom fish, except in the early spring when the mackerel visit the coast. Lieutenant Eckersley knew enough of the ways of Connaught fishermen to feel surprised at the appearance of the fleet. He remarked on it an hour
