Very good—west I would go. I fitted an extension piece on to the gear handle. The Crew had a long-handled floor brush. With the brush as battering ram, I let drive at the extension piece. At the second shock, it gave. (I should have used a heavy hammer on the drive-coupling, but I did not know that then.) I fed and swung the engine; went aloft and heaved the anchor; put her into gear to go west a bit, and after a few revolutions tried to get her out of gear. She stuck. I tugged and wrenched—and again had to shut her off and vault forward. The fisherman was already signalling me to stop. As if it were a simple business I I dropped the anchor—indeed in my haste I threw it—overboard. She swung to it, however. Had I gone a bit too far? Couldn’t be much for we were still nearer the pier than the opposing side of the little bay. The fisherman stood looking at us, silent. I paid out chain, made all fast, and sat until the gentle north-easterly wind got the high tide lapping about us. Then I joined the Crew. As we looked around we felt pleased with ourselves, and, taking everything into consideration, a little incredible. It could blow now if it liked! We had arrived.

V

And it did Blow

But the moment for complete relaxation had not yet arrived. There was this donnybrook of a cabin in front of the Crew. I boxed in the engine until nothing was seen but a smooth piece of furniture, though why the builders gave it a curved top we never could understand, for had it been flat it would have made an excellent additional table. Meantime the floor had been cleared for the laying down of a thick fibre mat, weighing about a hundredweight and measuring eight feet by four. It was one of Eoin’s incredible second-hand finds at three shillings, and it fitted beautifully, covering the space between the engine and the forward bulkhead and giving a sense of comfort beyond all our expectations. We could sit or lie or walk about on it on feet or knees. The primus stove was soon hissing away, though after its plumbing efforts it was anything but brisk. The swinging table was fixed by its brass arms to supports under the skylight and in a very short time we were enjoying our first hot meal on board. And we did enjoy it, and lingered over the coffee, and smoked a cigarette, and thought that life on the whole was a very marvellous affair.

But I was soon cleared out into the cockpit, where I uncovered one of our deep-sea fishing lines and, taking off the hooks but leaving on the lead sinker, used it for sounding. We were in two fathoms. Not too bad, even if the tide was still ebbing and the weeded shore looked uncomfortably near. The wind was freshening somewhat from the north-east and therefore crossed the ‘short carry’ referred to in the Sailing Directions. It did not seem so very short—a good couple of miles into Loch Beg. But the glass was steady.