over the prow
like the flash of a sword, and before the next wave arrived he had
dragged the curagh out of danger.

This sudden and united action in men without discipline shows well
the education that the waves have given them. When the curagh was in
safety the two old women were carried up through the surf and
slippery seaweed on the backs of their sons.

In this broken weather a curagh cannot go out without danger, yet
accidents are rare and seem to be nearly always caused by drink,
Since I was here last year four men have been drowned on their way
home from the large island. First a curagh belonging to the south
island which put off with two men in her heavy with drink, came to
shore here the next evening dry and uninjured, with the sail half
set, and no one in her.

More recently a curagh from this island with three men, who were the
worse for drink, was upset on its way home. The steamer was not far
off, and saved two of the men, but could not reach the third.

Now a man has been washed ashore in Donegal with one pampooty on
him, and a striped shirt with a purse in one of the pockets, and a
box for tobacco.

For three days the people have been trying to fix his identity. Some
think it is the man from this island, others think that the man from
the south answers the description more exactly. To-night as we were
returning from the slip we met the mother of the man who was drowned
from this island, still weeping and looking out over the sea. She
stopped the people who had come over from the south island to ask
them with a terrified whisper what is thought over there.

Later in the evening, when I was sitting in one of the cottages, the
sister of the dead man came in through the rain with her infant, and
there was a long talk about the rumours that had come in. She pieced
together all she could remember about his clothes, and what his
purse was like, and where he had got it, and the same for his
tobacco box, and his stockings. In the end there seemed little doubt
that it was her brother.

'Ah!' she said, 'It's Mike sure enough, and please God they'll give
him a decent burial.'

Then she began to keen slowly to herself. She had loose yellow hair
plastered round her head with the rain, and as she sat by the door
sucking her infant, she seemed like a type of the women's life upon
the islands.

For a while the people sat silent, and one could hear nothing but
the lips of the infant, the rain hissing in the ya