Three old men were sitting on the wall of Kilmilik Pier码头，桥墩 with their backs to the sea and their faces to the village and the sun. Suddenly there was the sound of a sail flapping in the wind, and a little white yacht游艇，快艇 swung around the corner of the pier1 and came alongside the old men.
Where's the nearest public house? asked a red-faced man in a white cotton shirt and trousers. The three old men told him, all together. Let's go and have a drink, Totty, said the red-faced man. Right-o, said the other.
When the red-faced man was climbing the iron ladder fixed2 to the pier, a shilling先令 dropped out of his back pocket. It fell noiselessly on to some rope that lay on the deck of the yacht at the foot of the ladder. The red-faced man did not notice it, and he walked on along the pier chatting with his friend.
The three old men noticed it, but they did not tell the red-faced man. Neither did they tell one another. As soon as the shilling landed on the rope and lay there shining, the three of them became so painfully conscious of it that they lost all power of speech.
Each old man knew that the other two had seen the shilling, yet each was silent about it in the hope of keeping the discovery his own secret. Each knew that it was impossible for him to go down the iron ladder to the deck, pick up the shilling, and get back to the pier with it without being seen. For there was a man wearing a round white cap doing something in the cabin客舱，船舱 of the yacht.
Every third moment or so每隔一会儿 his cap appeared through the doorway3 and there was the noise of plates being washed or something. And the shilling was within two feet of the doorway. Besides, the old men, except perhaps Patsy Conroy, were too old to climb down the ladder and climb back up again.
Furthermore, each knew that even if there were nobody in the cabin, and even if he could climb down the ladder, the others would prevent him from getting the shilling, since each preferred that no one should have the shilling if he couldn't have it himself.
Yet, such was the attraction of that shining shilling that the three of them stared with painfully beating hearts and feverishly开心地，狂热地 working brains at objects within two feet of it. They stared in a painful silence that was as loud with sound as a violent and quarrelsome喜欢吵架的，好争论的 conversation.
The sun shone warmly, and there was excellent cool beer in Kelly's. And the salt, healthy smell of the sea awakened5 their thirst, so that not one of the three old men ever thought of the fact that the shilling belonged to somebody else. Indeed, each of them was so angry at the shameless greed of the other two that he felt as if he almost wished to kill them. Thus three minutes passed.
The two owners of the yacht had passed out of sight. Brian Manion and Mick Feeney were trembling, their mouths watering口水，垂涎 at the thought of the beer that they now wanted so much. Then Patsy Conroy bent6 down and picked up a small stone from the pier. He dropped it on to the deck of the yacht. The other two made a slight movement to intercept拦截，窃听 the pebble卵石 with their sticks, a foolish, unconscious movement.
The next thing that happened was so unexpected that their jaws9 dropped: Patsy Conroy was speaking.
Hey there, he shouted between his cupped杯形的，凹的 hands.
A palefaced sad-looking man stepped out of the cabin. What do you want? he said.
Beg your pardon, sir, said Patsy Conroy, but would you hand me up that shilling that just dropped out of my hand?
The man nodded, picked up the shilling, said Catch, and threw it on to the pier, Patsy touched his cap and ped for it.
The other two old men were so lost in amazement10 that they didn't even try to sTOP him getting it. They simply watched him put it in his pocket. Then they watched him walk up the pier, his long, thin, grey-backed figure with a yellow scarf around his neck, moving as straight and as solemn庄严的，严肃的 as a policeman.
They looked at each other, their faces twisted with anger. And each, with an upraised举起的，抬高的 stick, snarled11纠结，咆哮 at the other: Why didn't you sTOP him, you fool?
