Noon
A torrid westerly breeze came fitfully , rose , died away , rose again , and made Captain Kneebone curse . `` A fair wind lost , '' he muttered . `` Next we 'll lose the ebb , too , be ` anged . '' Noon passed , and mid-afternoon , before the padre came out from the courtyard , covering his white head with his ungainly helmet . `` We may go now , '' he said gravely , `` in a few minutes . '' No more were needed , for the loose clods in the old shaft of their counter-mine were quickly handled , and the necessary words soon uttered . Captain Kneebone had slipped out through the water gate , beforehand , and lighted the fire on the steps .