The very crime that sat upon my heart quailed its courage and unnerved my arm.

As the boatmen looked from us towards the shore and again at our faces, they, as if instinctively, lay upon their oars, and waited for our decision as to what course to pursue.
"Rig the spritsail, my boys," said Considine, "and let her head lie up the river; and be alive, for I see they're bailing a boat below the little reef there, and will be after us in no time." The poor fellows, who, although strangers to us, sympathizing in what they perceived to be our imminent danger, stepped the light spar which acted as mast, and shook out their scanty rag of canvas in a minute.

Considine meanwhile went aft, and steadying her head with an oar, held the small craft up to the wind till she lay completely over, and as she rushed through the water, ran dipping her gun-wale through the white foam.
"Where can we make without tacking, boys ?" inquired the count.
"If it blows on as fresh, sir, we'll run you ashore within half a mile of the Castle." "Put an oar to leeward," said Considine, "and keep her up more to the wind, and I promise you, my lads, you will not go home fresh and fasting if you land us where you say." "Here they come," said the other boatman, as he pointed back with his finger towards a large yawl which shot suddenly from the shore, with six sturdy fellows pulling at their oars, while three or four others were endeavoring to get up their rigging, which appeared tangled and confused at the bottom of the boat; the white splash of water which fell each moment beside her showing that the process of bailing was still continued.
"Ah, then, may I never--av it isn't the ould 'Dolphin' they have launched for the cruise," said one of our fellows.
"What's the 'Dolphin,' then ?" "An ould boat of the Lord's [Lord Clanricarde's] that didn't see water, except when it rained, these four years, and is sun-cracked from stem to stern." "She can sail, however," said Considine, who watched with a painful anxiety the rapidity of her course through the water.
"Nabocklish, she was a smuggler's jolly-boat, and well used to it.

Look how they're pulling.

God pardon them, but they're in no blessed humor this morning." "Lay out upon your oars, boys; the wind's failing us," cried the count, as the sail flapped lazily against the mast.
"It's no use, yer honor," said the elder.