“Well, I will think of it,” Walter said.

“And I will get the boat ready at once, your honour.  A few sticks and a green hide will make a boat fit for Dublin Bay, to say nothing of crossing a smooth bit of water like this.”

After Larry had left him, Walter walked up and down for some time.  He had certainly thought, vaguely, that he should like Claire Conyers to know that he was still within sight of her house; but the possibility of sending her word had not occurred to him, until his follower suggested it.  Larry’s suggestion of possible danger to her made him uneasy.  Even if her father was with the king, and had already returned home, he would frequently be absent in the camp, and who could tell but some band of plunderers might visit the house in his absence!  The Protestants had been plundered and ill-used by William’s men round Athlone, and might be here.  It would certainly be well to know what was going on across the water.

After the kindness they had received, surely it would be only civil to let the Conyers know where they were posted.  At any rate, Claire could not be offended at his writing; besides, he might arrange some plan by which he might get news from Larry’s friend, Pat Ryan.

As he went down to the village he heard roars of laughter, and, passing a cottage, saw Larry with five or six of the troopers round him.  Larry was seated on the ground, making a framework in the shape of a saucer four feet in diameter.

“And what are you wanting a boat for, Larry?”

“Sure, I am mighty fond of fishing,” Larry said.  “Didn’t you know that?”

“I know you are a fisherman at home, Larry; but if it’s fishing you want, there are two large boats hauled up on the bank.”

“They are too big,” Larry said.  “I should want half a dozen men to launch them, and then you would want to go with me, and the bare sight of you would be enough to frighten away all the fish in the Shannon.  But I will have a look at the boats.  The captain might want a party to cross the river, and it’s as well to see that they are in good order, and have got the oars and thole pins handy.  I will see to them myself, for there are not half a dozen of ye know one end of the boat from the other.”

When Walter reached his quarters, he at once sat down to write.  After many attempts he finished one as follows: 

“Dear Miss Conyers: 

“After the kindness shown to us by Mrs. Conyers and yourself, I feel sure that you will like to know where we are posted.  We are at Ballygan, just across the Shannon opposite to your house, and I can see your roof from a spot fifty yards from the village.  It seems a pleasure to me to be so close, even though we are as much divided as if there were the sea between us.

“I hope that Mr. Conyers has returned, and that you will have no trouble with William’s troops, whose reputation for good behaviour is not of the best.  I hope that, now that you are among your friends, you have not quite forgotten us, and that you will let me have a line to say how you are, and how things are going on with you.  My boy Larry is going to take this across, and will call tomorrow night for an answer, if you are good enough to send one.”