Caius had not yet hired a cart; he had not the least idea whether O'Shea intended to drive him and bring back his enemy or not.

That would, no doubt, be Josephine's desire.
Caius had not seen Josephine or spoken to O'Shea; it mattered nothing to him what arrangement they would or would not make for him.
As he still stood watching to see if the breeze would round and fill the sails which the Gaspe schooner had set, O'Shea came back and called from the foot of the knoll.

Caius turned; he bore the man no ill will.
Josephine's horse had not been injured by the accident of yesterday, and his own fall was a matter of complete indifference.
"I'm thinking, as ye packed yer bags, ye'll be going for the steamer." O'Shea spoke with that indefinable insult in his tone which had always characterized it in the days of their first intercourse, but, apart from that, his manner was crisp and cool as the morning air; not a shade of discouragement was visible.
"I am going for the steamer," said Caius, and waited to hear what offer of conveyance was to be made him.
"Well, I'm thinking," said O'Shea, "that I'll just take the boat across the bay, and bring back the captain from Harbour Island; but as his honour might prefer the cart, I'll send the cart round by the dune.
There's no saying but, having been in tropical parts, he may be a bit scared of the ice.

Howsomever, knowing that he's in that haste to meet his bride, and would, no doubt, grudge so much as a day spent between here and there on the sand, I'll jist give him his chice; being who he is, and a foine gintleman, he has his right to it.

As for you"-- the tone instantly slipped into insolent indifference--"ye can go by one or the other with yer bags." It was not clear to Caius that O'Shea had any intention of himself escorting Le Maitre if he chose to go by the sand.