In spite of the wind outside, the sea at the slip was as calm as a
pool. The men who were standing about while the steamer was at the
south island wondered for the last time whether I would be married
when I came back to see them. Then we pulled out and took our place
in the line. As the tide was running hard the steamer stopped a
certain distance from the shore, and gave us a long race for good
places at her side. In the struggle we did not come off well, so I
had to clamber across two curaghs, twisting and fumbling with the
roll, in order to get on board.
It seemed strange to see the curaghs full of well-known faces
turning back to the slip without me, but the roll in the sound soon
took off my attention. Some men were on board whom I had seen on the
south island, and a good many Kilronan people on their way home from
Galway, who told me that in one part of their passage in the morning
they had come in for heavy seas.
As is usual on Saturday, the steamer had a large cargo of flour and
porter to discharge at Kilronan, and, as it was nearly four o'clock
before the tide could float her at the pier, I felt some doubt about
our passage to Galway.
The wind increased as the afternoon went on, and when I came down in
the twilight I found that the cargo was not yet all unladen, and
that the captain feared to face the gale that was rising.
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