Who'll be minding a young boy on a cart of turnips ?" His honour mused a moment, and then nodded.
"Can you get the cutter away in this wind ?" asked he.
"I could get her away as easy as I got her in," said my father; "but she's well enough as she is for a day or two, by your honour's leave." "Father," said I, all excitement, "sure it wasn't you ran the cutter into the lough round Fanad yesterday?
I knew nobody else could have done it!" My father grinned at the compliment.
"That's the boy knows one end of a ship from the other," said he.
Mr Gorman looked at me, and a thought seemed to strike him.
"Come here!" said he, beckoning me to him.
Once again he looked hard in my face, and I looked hard back.
"So you are Barry ?" he demanded.
"I am," said I.
"And you'd like to be a sailor ?" "No," I retorted.

It was a lie, but I would be under no favour to his honour.
His honour grunted, and talked in a low voice to my father, who presently said to me,-- "Take the turnips to Joe Callan's, in Derry, on the Ship Quay.

Wait till dark before you go into the city.

Tell him there's more where these came from." "Is it guns you mane ?" said I.
"Hold your tongue, you limb of darkness," growled my father.

"It's turnips.