The eyes and expression are different, though
the faces are the same, and even the children here seem to have an
indefinable modern quality that is absent from the men of Inishmaan.
My voyage from the middle island was wild. The morning was so
stormy, that in ordinary circumstances I would not have attempted
the passage, but as I had arranged to travel with a curagh that was
coming over for the Parish Priest--who is to hold stations on
Inishmaan--I did not like to draw back.
I went out in the morning and walked up the cliffs as usual. Several
men I fell in with shook their heads when I told them I was going
away, and said they doubted if a curagh could cross the sound with
the sea that was in it.
When I went back to the cottage I found the Curate had just come
across from the south island, and had had a worse passage than any
he had yet experienced.
The tide was to turn at two o'clock, and after that it was thought
the sea would be calmer, as the wind and the waves would be running
from the same point. We sat about in the kitchen all the morning,
with men coming in every few minutes to give their opinion whether
the passage should be attempted, and at what points the sea was
likely to be at its worst.
At last it was decided we should go, and I started for the pier in a
wild shower of rain with the wind howling in the walls.
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