This continual danger, which can only be escaped by extraordinary
personal dexterity, has had considerable influence on the local
character, as the waves have made it impossible for clumsy,
foolhardy, or timid men to live on these islands.
When the steamer is within a mile of the slip, the curaghs are put
out and range themselves - there are usually from four to a dozen - in
two lines at some distance from the shore.
The moment she comes in among them there is a short but desperate
struggle for good places at her side. The men are lolling on their
oars talking with the dreamy tone which comes with the rocking of
the waves. The steamer lies to, and in an instant their faces become
distorted with passion, while the oars bend and quiver with the
strain. For one minute they seem utterly indifferent to their own
safety and that of their friends and brothers. Then the sequence is
decided, and they begin to talk again with the dreamy tone that is
habitual to them, while they make fast and clamber up into the
steamer.
While the curaghs are out I am left with a few women and very old
men who cannot row.
