Late this evening I saw a three-oared curagh with two old women in
her besides the rowers, landing at the slip through a heavy roll.
They were coming from Inishere, and they rowed up quickly enough
till they were within a few yards of the surf-line, where they spun
round and waited with the prow towards the sea, while wave after
wave passed underneath them and broke on the remains of the slip.
Five minutes passed; ten minutes; and still they waited with the
oars just paddling in the water, and their heads turned over their
shoulders.
I was beginning to think that they would have to give up and row
round to the lee side of the island, when the curagh seemed suddenly
to turn into a living thing. The prow was again towards the slip,
leaping and hurling itself through the spray. Before it touched, the
man in the bow wheeled round, two white legs came out 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.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139