Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty.Old England again.Occasionally, as the French ships were manoeuvring, alternately passing either ahead or astern of us, there was a cessation of firing, but it was only for a short time. Again their shot came crashing aboard.I observed Captain Bouchier not far from me, when, just as we were receiving a raking broadside, he staggered, and would have fallen to the deck, had not the purser sprang forward and caught him. Directly afterwards, the latter, summoning two men, the captain was carried below.On this, Captain Drury, shouting, “Keep at it, my lads! We’ll beat them off yet!” took his place, and issued the necessary orders.Again the Frenchmen ranged up as before,—one on our beam and the other on our quarter,—and made another attempt to board. Captain Drury, leading our men on the starboard side, while our first lieutenant commanded those on the other, drove them back, many falling dead on our deck and others overboard. In a few minutes we again separated.For four hours the action had continued (it appeared to me to be much longer), when, as the smoke from the guns cleared away, I saw that day was breaking.As it showed the enemy more clearly than before our shattered and weak condition, I could not help fearing that they would again renew the attack, with every prospect of success.From the numbers of the poor fellows who had been carried below wounded, and the many who lay stretched dead on the deck in all directions, I fancied that we must have lost half of our crew, while it seemed to me that at any moment our shattered spars would come tumbling down on deck. The fore-topmast hung over the bows, the main-yard was nearly cut in two, and not a sail remained whole. Still Captain Drury and the other officers went about encouraging the men to persevere.When daylight increased, however, and we saw our two antagonists in comparison to our ship but slightly injured, we knew how desperate was our condition, yet our men stood sturdily to their guns, and blazed away as they could be brought to bear.While watching the two frigates, I observed signals exchanged between them, and almost immediately afterwards, to our astonishment, they hauled their tacks aboard, and stood away from us. Our nearly exhausted crew, on seeing this, cheered again and again.“We must not be too sure that they don’t intend to come back again when they have repaired damages, and renew the fight,” said Nettleship to me.“We will hope for the best, and if they do, try to beat them off again,” I answered.“That’s the right spirit, Paddy,” said Nettleship. “Please Heaven, we shall do so.”“Hurrah! hurrah! We’ve licked the Frenchmen,” I heard Larry shouting. “Give them another cheer, boys! Hurrah! hurrah!” and the men round him joined in his hurrahs.The men were still allowed to remain at their quarters, for it was yet difficult to say what the enemy would do next. We watched them anxiously, for even the most fire-eating of our men had no wish for more fighting, as by no possibility could we hope to capture either of the frigates. When some way astern they joined company, and we saw them standing to the westward. They got farther and farther off, and gradually their hulls sank below the horizon. We were now ordered to secure the guns. This done, the dead hove overboard, and the decks washed down, all hands were employed in knotting and securing the running and standing rigging, and strengthening the wounded spars. I asked one of the assistant-surgeons, who came on deck to get a little fresh air, if he knew how the captain was going on.“He has a desperate wound in the arm, but is likely to do well,” he answered.He told me, besides, that there were six-and-twenty wounded men below, while nineteen had been killed. From the number of shot the Frenchmen fired at us, I supposed that we had lost many more. A large proportion of the shot, however, had flown over our heads, and injured only our sails and rigging. The ship was but partially put to rights when another night closed in. I found it difficult enough even during my watch to keep my eyes open, and the moment I turned in to my hammock I was fast asleep. I suspect that all on board, both officers and men, were equally drowsy. I had not to turn out again till the hammocks were piped up.When I came on deck I found that the weather had changed. Dark clouds were rushing across the sky, the sea had got up, and the ship was rolling and pitching into it. The wind was from the southward. Two reefs had been taken in the topsails, but from the way the ship heeled over it was evident that she had more canvas on her than she could carry.Captain Drury had just come on deck.“We must shorten sail,” he said to the first lieutenant.“Hands aloft,” he shouted.Just at that moment, as the men were about to spring into the rigging, a tremendous blast struck the ship, and over she heeled.“Up with the helm!” cried Captain Drury.The ship did not answer it, but heeled over more and more. I thought she was about to share the fate of theCerberus, The moment afterwards a heavy sea came roaring up, a succession of crashes was heard, the masts went by the board, and she rose on an even keel, the wheel flying round and sending the men at it across the deck. The rudder had been carried away, and the ship lay a helpless wreck on the stormy ocean.The men looked at each other, with blank dismay in their countenances, but our brave commander did his best to conceal his anxiety, and the officers followed his example.“Clear away the wreck, lads; the gale won’t last long, and when the wind goes down we must try to get up jury-masts and repair the rudder,” he cried out.All hands were now employed in trying to save some of the spars, and to cut the masts clear, for their butts were striking with fearful force on our larboard side, already shattered by the shot of the enemy. While we were thus employed, the carpenter and his mates, who had been below, came on deck, and went up to the captain. I saw by his looks as he passed me that something was the matter. Directly afterwards the order was given to man the pumps, and they were set clanging away as fast as they could be made to work. The quantity of water gushing out showed that the ship must be leaking at a rapid rate. There was so much work to do that but few words were spoken. I happened to meet Larry.“Cheer up, Mr Terence,” he exclaimed. “Things look mighty bad; but though our ship went to the bottom we were saved, and I’m after hoping that we’ll be saved again. It would be hard to have beaten the enemy and yet to lose her.”“I don’t expect that we shall do that,” I answered. “The wind is fair for Nova Scotia, and when we get up jury-masts and rig a new rudder, we may be able to get her along.”Though I said this, I confess that I was not very sure about it. Things didn’t improve. The sea increased, the wind blew stronger and stronger, and though the pumps were kept going without cessation, we could not get the water under. It came in faster and faster. The reports from the sick bay were also disheartening. Several of the poor fellows who had left their hammocks to fight had since succumbed, and many others were following them. The wounded, who might have done well under other circumstances, dropped off one by one. The only satisfactory intelligence was the state of the captain, who, though so badly wounded, was progressing favourably. The day after the gale commenced ten men died, and the following a still larger number. It was sad to see them lashed in their hammocks as they were slid overboard. There was no time for any funeral ceremonies. Even the healthiest among us looked pale and broken in spirits. On the fourth or fifth day, I think it was, from that on which the gale commenced, the purser’s steward, on getting up provisions, found that the salt water had spoiled all the bread, while many of the casks with fresh water had broken loose and their contents were lost.To try and stop the leaks, Captain Drury ordered the only spare mainsail to be fothered and drawn under the ship’s bottom. To prepare it a quantity of oakum was spread over the sail, and stitched down by the sail-makers, thus forming what seemed like an enormous mat. This was lowered over the bows, and gradually hauled under the ship’s bottom, where the leaks were supposed to be the worst. We all looked anxiously for the result. Though, in addition to the pumps, a gang of men were set to bale, the water still continued to gain on us. In spite of this, neither officers nor men appeared to lose heart.“The gale will come to an end some day,” cried Captain Drury, “and we must keep the ship afloat till then. We should be cowards to give in.”He did his best to speak in his usual cheery tone, but even his voice was more husky than usual, and it was easy to see that he didn’t say what he thought. At last many of the men were seen to desert the pumps.“Come, Paddy,” said Tom Pim, “we must not let them do that. You and I will take their places and shame them back.”We turned to, and worked away till our arms ached. “Spell ho!” we cried, and, catching hold of two men, we dragged them back to the pumps. Nettleship did the same with others. The lieutenants were constantly going about trying to keep the crew at work. Some of them behaved exactly as those aboard theCerberushad done before she was lost, and were about to lash themselves into their hammocks. The first lieutenant and the boatswain, going round, quickly routed them out, and they returned to their duty, either to pump or bale.The carpenter and his mates, assisted by the boatswain, were attempting to get at the leaks, but even they at last abandoned their efforts on finding them hopeless.Captain Drury, who had been to visit Captain Bouchier, now returned on deck, and ordered the guns to be hove overboard to lighten the ship. All hands not engaged in pumping were employed in this duty. One by one they were sent plunging into the sea, and the big seventy-four was left at the mercy of the smallest privateer afloat. This gave the ship relief, and our hopes rose of saving her. Of late we had been on the smallest possible allowance of water, and now, to our dismay, the purser announced that the last cask was expended. Nor could wine or spirits be got at owing to the quantity of water in the hold. We had beef and pork, but the bread was all spoiled; thus, even should we keep the ship afloat, we ran the risk of dying of hunger and thirst. Of the crew of theHector, which had consisted of three hundred men when my companions and I got on board, nearly one hundred had been killed in action, or had since died, and still others were dropping off fast.Day after day went by. We had known when in the boat what it was to suffer from thirst, but I now felt it more severely. Even Nettleship owned to me that he didn’t think he could get through another day.“I don’t know whether either of us will survive, Paddy,” he said, “but if you do, I want you to write to my mother and sister, who live near Plymouth, to tell them what happened to me, and that I thought of them to the last; and should be thankful if you could just get some one to let the Admiralty know that Jack Nettleship did his duty while life remained.”I tried to cheer him up, at the same time promising to carry out his wishes if I should survive him. I fancy a good many, both of officers and men, were feeling as he did. Still, no one I saw showed any signs of cowardly apprehension. Our chief work was now to keep the men at the pumps and baling. It was only by the constant efforts of the officers that they could be induced to remain at their stations; and when “Spell ho!” was cried, and a fresh gang was ordered to take their places, the people relieved staggered away, and fell down on the deck like drunken men. The others, after labouring away for some time, relaxed in their exertions. Nettleship and I were standing near, occasionally taking a turn to help them. One poor fellow fell down. We ran forward to lift him up, but he was dead. We could only just drag him out of the way and call to another to take his place. Before many minutes were over another fell in the same way, dying at the post of duty, as heroically as if he had been standing at his gun. One of the lieutenants, who just then came up, called the surgeon to examine them. He came at once, but his efforts proved ineffectual to restore the men, and they were soon sent to join a number of their shipmates in their ocean grave. Two or three others, I heard, died in the same manner, when I was not present. The gun-room had become uninhabitable from the water washing through it. We had to move up to the ward-room. The deck below us was fast sinking. The carpenter reported that some of the beams of the orlop deck had fallen into the hold, though they must have done so gradually, for we had heard no sound to account for what had taken place. Indeed, the loud noise of the seas beating against the ship, and the water washing about in the hold, prevented any noises except the loudest from being heard. We all now knew that the ship was sinking. Only by the greatest exertions could she be kept afloat to prolong our lives for a few hours. Still no one talked of giving in.Captain Bouchier, wounded as he was, got up and went about, encouraging both officers and men. The spirit he and Captain Drury displayed encouraged us all. For three days we had none of us tasted a drop of water or spirits. We could judge by our own sufferings the fearful agonies the sick and wounded must be enduring. Not one would have survived, had not the surgeon discovered a few bottles of claret, which the captain insisted should be reserved for them, and though he required it as much as any one, he would not touch a drop himself.The third day since the water had been exhausted came to an end, and few of us expected to see another sunrise. That night was a dreadful one. The loud lashing of the sea against the side, the creaking of the bulkheads, the ominous sounds which came from the depths of the ship, the groans and cries of the sick and dying, heard at intervals, the ceaseless clanging of the pumps, rang in our ears as we lay, during our watch below, on our damp beds extended on the ward-room deck. The night, however, did come to an end, and we found ourselves still alive, though the ship had evidently sunk lower since the previous day. I joined Nettleship on deck, for we naturally kept together as much as we could. I found that the wind was still blowing strongly, and the sea running high, although it had lately somewhat gone down. Nothing could be seen around but the leaden-coloured foaming seas rising and sinking between us and the horizon. On comparing notes, my two messmates and I agreed that we didn’t suffer nearly so much from thirst as we had done in the boat. Such provisions as could be got at were served out, but none of us cared much for food, though we ate what we could to keep up our strength. We were soon summoned to watch and assist the men at the pumps and buckets, for even now, not for an instant were they allowed to relax in their exertions. Captain Bouchier, weak as he was, went frequently amongst them.“Keep at it, my lads!” cried Nettleship; “while there’s life there’s hope. If we can keep the ship afloat for a short time longer, it may make all the difference whether we save our lives or perish. Cheer up, lads, cheer up! Show that you’re British seamen to the last!”The men uttered a faint cheer when the captain, leaning on the purser’s arm, returned.Captain Drury, who had fought the ship so bravely after Captain Bouchier was wounded, was the life and soul of all on board.Noon had passed, and still the stout ship lay rolling in the trough of the sea. Inch by inch the water was rising, and we knew that if we were to cease pumping and baling, it would gain upon us still more rapidly.Already despair could be seen on nearly every countenance. Notwithstanding, few, if any, flinched from their work. Those who spoke, talked of home and friends whom they never expected to see again. Some shook hands, believing that at any moment the ship might make the last fatal plunge, and sink beneath the waves.Larry was now like my shadow, wherever I went, he followed, no one preventing him, except when he had to take his turn at the pumps or buckets.Some of the officers had written letters addressed to friends or relatives, and were enclosing them in bottles headed up in small casks, so that some record might be preserved of our fate. Nettleship had prepared one.“Have you anything to say to your friends at Ballinahone, Paddy?” he asked.“Yes; beg your mother to write to them, and say that I send my love to all, not forgetting my uncle the major, and that I have been thinking much of them to-day,” I answered, as well as I could speak with the choking sensation in my throat.“And please, Mr Nettleship, may I be so bold as to axe you to put in a word about Larry Harrigan, and to say that he stuck to Mr Terence to the last, and that if he couldn’t save him, it wasn’t the will that was wanting, but the cruel say was too much for us at last.”“And put in a word to my family,—you know their address,” said Tom; “just my love, and that I was thinking of them. They’ll know that I was likely to have done my duty as far as I could, so I won’t trouble you with a longer message.”Just as Nettleship had returned to the gun-room to add the messages to his letter, there came a shout from the poop—“A sail! a sail!”Many of the officers rushed up to take a look at her. Tom Pim and I followed them. We could make her out clearly,—a small vessel, right away to windward. The question was whether she would see us.Captain Drury also had his telescope on her.Now she was hidden by the seas which rose up between us; now she came clearly into view, her hull almost visible.“She’s standing this way,” said Captain Drury, “and I believe has made us out, but of that we can’t be certain. However, we must not relax in our efforts to keep the ship afloat, for it may be many hours before we can get aboard her.”I should have said that we had had a spar secured to the stump of the mainmast, to which an ensign with a jack downwards had been nailed from the first, in the hopes of attracting the attention of any passing vessel.Captain Bouchier, who had been informed that a sail was in sight, now came up to have a look at her, but almost immediately went down again among the men.“Lads,” he said, “your exertions will be rewarded, I hope; but you must not slacken in them, or your labours may be thrown away. We may keep the ship afloat many hours longer if you bale and pump as sturdily as heretofore. By that time the sea may have gone down, and we may manage to get aboard the vessel in her boats, though she probably will not venture alongside.”The men received his address with a faint cheer, and turned to again at the pumps, while those employed in baling passed the buckets to and fro with greater alacrity even than before.I occasionally ran up on deck to see how near she was getting. I know my heart bounded when I saw the English flag flying out at her peak. She appeared to be a good-sized merchantman, a “snow,” and I heard some of the officers who had been looking through their glasses say that she had guns aboard.On hearing my report when I returned, some of the men burst into tears, others shouted for joy and shook each other by the hand, believing that our deliverance was near.Night was now coming on. The sea still ran too high to allow of boats laden with men to pass from one vessel to the other. For the same reason it was impossible for the stranger to come near enough to take any of us off. Many would very probably perish in the attempt, even if the snow should escape being hove against us and stove in.Again I ran up. All those on deck were now stretching out their hands towards her. She came close enough for the voice of her captain—who stood on the poop—to be heard through his speaking-trumpet.“I’ll stay by you during the night,” he shouted. “The sea is going down. In the morning I’ll take you off,—please God.”The last words reached us as the stranger surged by, close under our lee. She then hove-to at a safe distance. Eager eyes were turned towards her before the light altogether faded away, and many looked as if they were tempted to leap overboard and swim to her. Thirsty, hungry, and weary as we were, we would gladly have knocked off baling; but the captain wisely ordered us to keep at it as long as we remained on board.“You can’t tell, my lads, when the bucketful will leak in that will send her to the bottom,” he said, and the men again turned to. He ordered, however, the carpenter to patch up such of the boats as could be made serviceable enough to float even for a short time, so that they might be employed in carrying us aboard the snow. Without the masts the launch could not be got off the deck, but we had three other boats fit to be repaired; all the others had been completely knocked to pieces. No one slept at all events during that night, for we were all kept spell and spell at the pumps and buckets. The certainty that relief was at hand if we kept afloat, inspired us with renewed strength. When morning dawned the snow came as close as she could venture. Three of her boats approached and pulled towards us. The order was now given for the men to prepare for leaving the ship. Sentries were placed at the gangways to prevent any crowding in till they received the order to go down the side, but this was unnecessary. The few survivors of the sick and wounded were first lowered into the boats, with the surgeons to attend them. The boys and midshipmen were then ordered to go down the side, the names of all being called in succession. As soon as the snow’s boats were filled and had pulled away, ours were lowered. Tom Pim and I went, with Larry, in one of them, Nettleship having charge of her. I looked up at the old ship. She seemed to be settling fast. The water came out of the scuppers, showing that, according to the captain’s orders, the hands were still at the pumps. There was no hurry, yet all was done rapidly. The moment we shoved off our crew gave way, and we were soon aboard the snow. While Nettleship returned for more men, Tom and I stood watching them anxiously. It seemed even now that before they could escape the ship would go down. Though the sea had much decreased, there was no little danger, while the boats were alongside theHector, of their being swamped. As fast as they could the boats went backwards and forwards, taking their cargoes in through the lower ports. I saw Captain Drury and the first lieutenant pressing Captain Bouchier to leave the ship, but in spite of his wound he insisted on remaining to the last. Our men, as they arrived, stood watching the ship from the deck of the snow, and gave a cheer as they saw him descending, the last man, into the cutter, for they knew that not a soul was left on board the gallantHector, Scarcely had the captain been helped up the side, than we saw the ship’s head begin to sink. Lower and lower it went, then down she plunged, her ensign flying from the spar secured to the stump of her mainmast, streaming upwards, alone showing us the spot where she was sinking into the depths of the ocean. A groan escaped from the breasts of many of those who had long sailed in her. We found that we were on board theHawksnow, a letter-of-marque belonging to Dartmouth, Captain John Hill, and bound from Lisbon to Saint John’s, Newfoundland. When Captain Bouchier expressed his gratitude to the master for receiving him and his people, the reply was—“Don’t talk of it, sir; I’m but doing my duty. I would wish to be treated the same way by others.”Besides his own crew of five-and-twenty men, he had now two hundred of theHector’son board. We had brought neither provisions nor water, and were still many a long league from our port. TheHawkhad fortunately hitherto had a quick passage. We had, therefore, more provisions and water on board than would otherwise have been the case. Still two hundred mouths in addition was a large number to feed, yet neither the captain nor his ship’s company grumbled or made the slightest complaint. To stow us all away was the difficulty. To solve it, the captain at once ordered his men to heave overboard the more bulky portion of his cargo. His owners, he said, would not complain, for he himself was the principal one, and he trusted to the justice of his country to replace his loss. We were, of course, put on an allowance, but after the starvation we had endured, it appeared abundance. Even when the cargo had been got rid of it was unpleasantly close stowing for most of us, but we had great reason to be thankful to Heaven for having escaped with our lives. The officers and crew of theHawktreated us with the greatest kindness; most of our poor fellows, indeed, required help, and were unable to move about the deck by themselves. The wind, however, continued fair, and those who had abundant sleep recovered their spirits. Still several died, worn out by fatigue and sickness. We were safe for the present, and we did not allow ourselves to recollect that another gale might spring up before we could reach Saint John’s, to which port we were bound, or that contrary winds might keep us from our port, and that, after all, we might perish from hunger and thirst. I was talking of what we should do when we got ashore.“Wait till we are there, Paddy,” said Nettleship. “I don’t say that we shall not reach it, but we may not. That noble fellow, Hill, knows that such may be the case as well as I do; and I admire his calmness, and the care he takes not to show us that he fears he and his people may suffer the fate from which they rescued our ship’s company. You see they are all put on the same allowance that we are, yet not one of them complains.”I heartily agreed with him. Shortly afterwards I asked Nettleship what he had done with his letter.“I left it in the cask aboard, Paddy,” he answered. “So in case we’re lost, our friends will know our whereabouts, though they’ll not hear of our being rescued, and the chance we have had of escaping; but that won’t matter much, though I should like to have made Hill’s conduct known.”Never, perhaps, did seamen watch the weather more anxiously than we did. Our lives, as far as we could see, depended on the winds. Already the stock of provisions and water was getting low, and it was necessary to diminish the allowance of both. Still the crew of theHawkwould only receive the same quantity that we did. The sun rose and set, and again rose, and we sailed on. Mr Hill met us each morning at breakfast, his honest countenance beaming with kindness, and jocularly apologised for the scantiness of the fare. Even he, however, one morning looked grave; the wind had fallen, and we lay becalmed. He had good reason to be grave, for he knew what we did not, that he had only one cask of water left, and provisions scarcely sufficient for a couple of days.“I have come away without fish-hooks,” he observed. “If I had had them, gentlemen, I might have given you cod for dinner; and I promise you I’ll never be without them again, when I make this voyage.”“Then I only hope, captain, that you’ll take us up again if we happen to have our ship sinking under us,” I said, at which there was a general laugh.As we had nothing else to do, all hands employed themselves in whistling for a breeze. Just before the sun again rose, a cheering shout was heard from the masthead—“Land! land!”In a short time the rocky coast of Newfoundland rose on the larboard bow, and we stood along to the northward for Saint John’s harbour, on the east coast. Before evening we were passing through the Narrows, a passage leading to the harbour, with perpendicular precipices rising to a considerable height on either side. Passing under Fort Amhurst, a voice came off hailing—“Where are you from? What length of passage?”The answer announcing, “We have on board the officers and crew of H.M.S.Hector,” evidently caused considerable excitement, and signals were made to a post on the top of a lofty hill on the right side, whence the information was conveyed to the town.Before we dropped our anchor, the last cask of water was emptied, the last particle of food consumed.The moment we brought up, the vessel was surrounded by boats, the news of our arrival having preceded us. Before landing, all the officers again expressed their thanks to our gallant preserver, who, I hope, received the reward he so well merited, from our Government, we ourselves being unable to offer him any. None of us, indeed, had more than the clothes we wore, and a few articles we had been able to carry off with us from the wreck.We were received with the greatest kindness and hospitality by the inhabitants of Saint John’s. Nettleship, Tom, and I were lodged together in the house of a merchant, whose wife and daughters, pitying our condition, did everything they could to restore us to health. Certainly we were very unlike the gay midshipmen we appeared when we sailed from Jamaica. Both the young ladies were very nice girls; but Tom confided to me that his heart had become hard as adamant since Lucy’s cruel treatment of him.“It will soften by and by, Tom,” I answered, laughing, though I could not say that I felt mine inclined to yield to their attractions.We agreed, however, that Nettleship, as we thought, would knock under. What might have been the case I don’t know; but as soon as the men had somewhat recovered from their hardships,—there being no man-o’-war likely to call off the place,—the captain chartered two merchant brigs to convey himself and the survivors of theHectorto Halifax, Nova Scotia, whence he expected to get a passage home for us to England. Nettleship, Tom, and I, accompanied by Larry, had to go on board theJane, one of the vessels, of which Captain Drury went in charge; while Captain Bouchier, though still not recovered from his wound, went in the other, theJohn Thomas.I did not mention it at the time, but Larry had managed to save his riddle uninjured when he left theHector, and his appearance with it under his arm afforded no small amount of satisfaction to the crew of theJane.TheJohn Thomasproved a much faster sailer than the brig, and soon ran ahead of us. We had just lost sight of Cape Race when a sail was made out, standing towards us from the southward.“I don’t like her looks,” observed Nettleship to me, as she approached. “I shouldn’t be surprised if she proves to be a French privateer.”The captain appeared to be of this opinion, for, after: examining the stranger through his glass, he ordered all the sail we could carry to be set, and stood away right before the wind, to the north-west. The stranger, however, came up with us hand over hand. In a short time the French ensign was seen blowing out at her peak, leaving no doubt as to her character.“We must not be taken, lads. I trust to you to fight to the last, before we strike our flag,” cried the captain.The crew cheered, and promised to do their best.TheJanehad six nine-pounders, while the enemy carried twice as many guns, evidently of much heavier metal. As a few men only were required to work them, the captain ordered the rest to go under shelter. Tom and I were among those ordered below. In a short time we heard our guns go off, and the shot of the enemy came rattling on board. Presently there came a crash, and we guessed that the privateer had run us alongside.“On deck, lads!” cried the captain. “Boarders, repel boarders.”At the summons we eagerly rushed up through every hatchway, to see a number of Frenchmen swarming on board; but they didn’t get far beyond the bulwarks before they were driven back, we in return boarding them. Tom and I led our men into the fore part of the vessel. More and more of our fellows followed. The Frenchmen gave way, some leaped below, others ran aft, where they encountered Nettleship and his party; in less than five minutes the privateer was ours, and Larry, shouting—“Wallop-a-hoo-aboo! Erin go bragh!” hauled down her colours.The enemy had so completely been taken by surprise, that they had offered but a slight resistance, and few, therefore, had lost their lives, while we had only half a dozen wounded. Captain Drury, with two-thirds of our men, went on board the prize, retaining the larger number of our prisoners; while Nettleship, Tom, and I remained in theJane, with orders to follow close astern.“We must take care, Paddy, that our prisoners don’t play us the same trick yours played you,” said Nettleship. “They would like to try it, no doubt.”We had thirty prisoners to look after.“I’ll take remarkably good care that they don’t do that,” I answered; “and to make sure, it would be as well to keep them in durance vile till we reach Halifax.”The Frenchmen grumbled at finding that they were to have their arms lashed behind them, and be kept below under charge of a couple of sentries. They were somewhat more contented when we fed them carefully, and told them that it was because we considered them brave fellows, and felt sure that if they had the opportunity they would take the brig from us, that we were obliged to treat them so unceremoniously. Fortunately the wind held fair, and we had a quick passage to Halifax, where we arrived before the harbour was frozen up. Of course we gained great credit for our last exploit at that favourite naval station.We found theMaidstonefrigate just about to sail for England, on board of which all who were well enough were ordered home. We were pretty considerably crowded, but we were a merry set, and had plenty to talk about. The midshipmen of theMaidstone, which had been for some time at Halifax, spoke warmly of the kindness they had received, and of the fascinations of the young ladies of the place, except an old mate and an assistant-surgeon, who declared that they had been abominably treated, and jilted by half-a-dozen whose hearts they thought they had won.Old Grumpus, the master’s mate, was especially bitter. “Look here,” he said, producing a sketch which he had made. “See these old ladies seated on chairs on the quay, watching their daughters fishing. There are a dozen girls at least, with long rods and hooks, baited with all sorts of odds and ends. And see what sort of fish they’re after,—naval officers—marine officers—and of all ranks, from an admiral down to a young midshipman. And there’s a stout dame—she can’t be called a young lady exactly—casting her hook towards a sturdy boatswain.“‘Look here,’ one of them cries out, ‘mother, mother, I’ve got a bite.’“‘Play him, my dear,’ cries the mother, ‘till you see what he is.’“‘Oh, mother, mother!’ she cries out presently, ‘I’ve caught a midshipman.’“‘Throw him in, my dear, he’s no good,’ answered the old lady.“Presently another sings out, ‘Mother, I’ve got a bite. I’m sure it’s from a lieutenant, from the way he pulls.’“‘Let him hang on a little, my dear,’ says the mother; ‘may be if you see a commander or a post-captain swimming by, you may cast him off, and hook one of the others instead.’“Presently a fourth cries out, ‘Oh, mother, I’ve hooked a captain!’“‘Run, Jane, run, and help your sister to land him,’ cries Mrs Thingamebob; and just see the way they’re doing it, so as not to frighten him, and make him turn tail.“At last another shouts, ‘Mother, I’ve hooked a master’s mate.’“‘Then go and cut the line, Susan. Don’t let Nancy land that brute, on any account. He’s the worst of the lot.’“And so it goes on,” exclaimed old Grumpus. “However, to my mind they’re all alike. Why, while we have been there a dozen officers from different ships have been and got spliced. It’s lucky for you fellows that you were not there long, or you would have been and done it, and repented it all your lives afterwards.”During the voyage old Grumpus brought out his sketch a score of times, and repeated his story as often, with numerous variations, which afforded us all much amusement. He had anecdotes of other descriptions without end to tell, most of them hingeing on the bad way the junior officers of the service were treated. He didn’t say that most of those junior officers were rough diamonds like himself, who would have been much better off if they had not been placed on the quarter-deck.We had a somewhat long and stormy passage, and were half frozen to death before it was over, most of us who had been for years in the West Indies being little prepared for cold weather. We should have been much worse off, however, in a line-of-battle ship, but in the midshipmen’s berth we managed to keep ourselves tolerably warm when below. At length we sighted the coast of Ireland.“Hurrah, Mr Terence! There’s the old country,” said Larry, throwing up his hat in his excitement, and nearly losing it overboard. “If the captain would only put into Cork harbour, we would be at home in two or three days, and shure they’d be mighty pleased to see us at Ballinahone. What lashings of whisky, and pigs, and praties they’d be after eating and drinking in our honour, just come home from the wars. Och! I wish we were there, before a blazing turf fire, with the peat piled up, and every one of them red and burning, instead of being out here with these cold winds almost blowing our teeth down our throats.”The picture Larry drew made me more than ever wish to get home. Not that I was tired of a sea life, though I had found it a pretty hard one in some respects; but I longed to see my father, and mother, and brothers, and sisters again, and my kind uncle the major, as I had not heard from them for many a long day. Letters in those days were conveyed to distant stations very irregularly. I had only received two all the time I had been away. Indeed, friends, knowing the great uncertainty which existed of letters reaching, thought it scarcely worth while to write them. We could just see the land, blue and indistinct, over our larboard bow, when the wind veered to the eastward, and instead of standing for Plymouth, as we expected to do, we were kept knocking about in the Chops of the Channel for three long weeks, till our water was nearly exhausted, and our provisions had run short. There we were, day after day, now standing on one tack, now on another, never gaining an inch of ground. Every morning the same question was put, and the same answer given—“Blowing as hard as ever, and right in our teeth.”We sighted a number of merchant vessels, and occasionally a man-of-war, homeward-bound from other stations, but all were as badly off as we were.At last one morning the look-out at the masthead shouted, “A sail to the eastward coming down before the wind.” It was just possible she might be an enemy. The drum beat to quarters, and the ship was got ready for action. On getting nearer, however, she showed English colours, and we then made out her number to be that of theThetisfrigate. As soon as we got near each other we both hove-to. Though there was a good deal of sea running, two of our boats were soon alongside her to obtain water, and some casks of bread and beef, for, as far as we could tell to the contrary, we might be another month knocking about where we were. In the meantime, one of her boats brought a lieutenant on board us.“Peace has been signed between Great Britain and France,” were almost the first words he uttered when he stepped on deck. “I can’t give particulars, but all I know is, that everything we have been fighting for is to remain much as it was before. We are to give up what we have taken from the French, and the French what they have taken from us, and we are to shake hands and be very good friends. There has been great rejoicing on shore, and bonfires and feasts in honour of the event.”I can’t say that the news produced any amount of satisfaction to those on board theMaidstone.“Then my hope of promotion has gone,” groaned Nettleship; “and you, Paddy, will have very little chance of getting yours, for which I’m heartily sorry; for after the creditable way in which you have behaved since you came to sea, I fully expected to see you rise in your profession, and be an honour to it.”“What’s the use of talking to sucking babies like Paddy and Tom here about their promotion, in these piping times of peace which are coming on us,” cried old Grumpus, “if we couldn’t get ours while the war was going on?”

Occasionally, as the French ships were manoeuvring, alternately passing either ahead or astern of us, there was a cessation of firing, but it was only for a short time. Again their shot came crashing aboard.

I observed Captain Bouchier not far from me, when, just as we were receiving a raking broadside, he staggered, and would have fallen to the deck, had not the purser sprang forward and caught him. Directly afterwards, the latter, summoning two men, the captain was carried below.

On this, Captain Drury, shouting, “Keep at it, my lads! We’ll beat them off yet!” took his place, and issued the necessary orders.

Again the Frenchmen ranged up as before,—one on our beam and the other on our quarter,—and made another attempt to board. Captain Drury, leading our men on the starboard side, while our first lieutenant commanded those on the other, drove them back, many falling dead on our deck and others overboard. In a few minutes we again separated.

For four hours the action had continued (it appeared to me to be much longer), when, as the smoke from the guns cleared away, I saw that day was breaking.

As it showed the enemy more clearly than before our shattered and weak condition, I could not help fearing that they would again renew the attack, with every prospect of success.

From the numbers of the poor fellows who had been carried below wounded, and the many who lay stretched dead on the deck in all directions, I fancied that we must have lost half of our crew, while it seemed to me that at any moment our shattered spars would come tumbling down on deck. The fore-topmast hung over the bows, the main-yard was nearly cut in two, and not a sail remained whole. Still Captain Drury and the other officers went about encouraging the men to persevere.

When daylight increased, however, and we saw our two antagonists in comparison to our ship but slightly injured, we knew how desperate was our condition, yet our men stood sturdily to their guns, and blazed away as they could be brought to bear.

While watching the two frigates, I observed signals exchanged between them, and almost immediately afterwards, to our astonishment, they hauled their tacks aboard, and stood away from us. Our nearly exhausted crew, on seeing this, cheered again and again.

“We must not be too sure that they don’t intend to come back again when they have repaired damages, and renew the fight,” said Nettleship to me.

“We will hope for the best, and if they do, try to beat them off again,” I answered.

“That’s the right spirit, Paddy,” said Nettleship. “Please Heaven, we shall do so.”

“Hurrah! hurrah! We’ve licked the Frenchmen,” I heard Larry shouting. “Give them another cheer, boys! Hurrah! hurrah!” and the men round him joined in his hurrahs.

The men were still allowed to remain at their quarters, for it was yet difficult to say what the enemy would do next. We watched them anxiously, for even the most fire-eating of our men had no wish for more fighting, as by no possibility could we hope to capture either of the frigates. When some way astern they joined company, and we saw them standing to the westward. They got farther and farther off, and gradually their hulls sank below the horizon. We were now ordered to secure the guns. This done, the dead hove overboard, and the decks washed down, all hands were employed in knotting and securing the running and standing rigging, and strengthening the wounded spars. I asked one of the assistant-surgeons, who came on deck to get a little fresh air, if he knew how the captain was going on.

“He has a desperate wound in the arm, but is likely to do well,” he answered.

He told me, besides, that there were six-and-twenty wounded men below, while nineteen had been killed. From the number of shot the Frenchmen fired at us, I supposed that we had lost many more. A large proportion of the shot, however, had flown over our heads, and injured only our sails and rigging. The ship was but partially put to rights when another night closed in. I found it difficult enough even during my watch to keep my eyes open, and the moment I turned in to my hammock I was fast asleep. I suspect that all on board, both officers and men, were equally drowsy. I had not to turn out again till the hammocks were piped up.

When I came on deck I found that the weather had changed. Dark clouds were rushing across the sky, the sea had got up, and the ship was rolling and pitching into it. The wind was from the southward. Two reefs had been taken in the topsails, but from the way the ship heeled over it was evident that she had more canvas on her than she could carry.

Captain Drury had just come on deck.

“We must shorten sail,” he said to the first lieutenant.

“Hands aloft,” he shouted.

Just at that moment, as the men were about to spring into the rigging, a tremendous blast struck the ship, and over she heeled.

“Up with the helm!” cried Captain Drury.

The ship did not answer it, but heeled over more and more. I thought she was about to share the fate of theCerberus, The moment afterwards a heavy sea came roaring up, a succession of crashes was heard, the masts went by the board, and she rose on an even keel, the wheel flying round and sending the men at it across the deck. The rudder had been carried away, and the ship lay a helpless wreck on the stormy ocean.

The men looked at each other, with blank dismay in their countenances, but our brave commander did his best to conceal his anxiety, and the officers followed his example.

“Clear away the wreck, lads; the gale won’t last long, and when the wind goes down we must try to get up jury-masts and repair the rudder,” he cried out.

All hands were now employed in trying to save some of the spars, and to cut the masts clear, for their butts were striking with fearful force on our larboard side, already shattered by the shot of the enemy. While we were thus employed, the carpenter and his mates, who had been below, came on deck, and went up to the captain. I saw by his looks as he passed me that something was the matter. Directly afterwards the order was given to man the pumps, and they were set clanging away as fast as they could be made to work. The quantity of water gushing out showed that the ship must be leaking at a rapid rate. There was so much work to do that but few words were spoken. I happened to meet Larry.

“Cheer up, Mr Terence,” he exclaimed. “Things look mighty bad; but though our ship went to the bottom we were saved, and I’m after hoping that we’ll be saved again. It would be hard to have beaten the enemy and yet to lose her.”

“I don’t expect that we shall do that,” I answered. “The wind is fair for Nova Scotia, and when we get up jury-masts and rig a new rudder, we may be able to get her along.”

Though I said this, I confess that I was not very sure about it. Things didn’t improve. The sea increased, the wind blew stronger and stronger, and though the pumps were kept going without cessation, we could not get the water under. It came in faster and faster. The reports from the sick bay were also disheartening. Several of the poor fellows who had left their hammocks to fight had since succumbed, and many others were following them. The wounded, who might have done well under other circumstances, dropped off one by one. The only satisfactory intelligence was the state of the captain, who, though so badly wounded, was progressing favourably. The day after the gale commenced ten men died, and the following a still larger number. It was sad to see them lashed in their hammocks as they were slid overboard. There was no time for any funeral ceremonies. Even the healthiest among us looked pale and broken in spirits. On the fourth or fifth day, I think it was, from that on which the gale commenced, the purser’s steward, on getting up provisions, found that the salt water had spoiled all the bread, while many of the casks with fresh water had broken loose and their contents were lost.

To try and stop the leaks, Captain Drury ordered the only spare mainsail to be fothered and drawn under the ship’s bottom. To prepare it a quantity of oakum was spread over the sail, and stitched down by the sail-makers, thus forming what seemed like an enormous mat. This was lowered over the bows, and gradually hauled under the ship’s bottom, where the leaks were supposed to be the worst. We all looked anxiously for the result. Though, in addition to the pumps, a gang of men were set to bale, the water still continued to gain on us. In spite of this, neither officers nor men appeared to lose heart.

“The gale will come to an end some day,” cried Captain Drury, “and we must keep the ship afloat till then. We should be cowards to give in.”

He did his best to speak in his usual cheery tone, but even his voice was more husky than usual, and it was easy to see that he didn’t say what he thought. At last many of the men were seen to desert the pumps.

“Come, Paddy,” said Tom Pim, “we must not let them do that. You and I will take their places and shame them back.”

We turned to, and worked away till our arms ached. “Spell ho!” we cried, and, catching hold of two men, we dragged them back to the pumps. Nettleship did the same with others. The lieutenants were constantly going about trying to keep the crew at work. Some of them behaved exactly as those aboard theCerberushad done before she was lost, and were about to lash themselves into their hammocks. The first lieutenant and the boatswain, going round, quickly routed them out, and they returned to their duty, either to pump or bale.

The carpenter and his mates, assisted by the boatswain, were attempting to get at the leaks, but even they at last abandoned their efforts on finding them hopeless.

Captain Drury, who had been to visit Captain Bouchier, now returned on deck, and ordered the guns to be hove overboard to lighten the ship. All hands not engaged in pumping were employed in this duty. One by one they were sent plunging into the sea, and the big seventy-four was left at the mercy of the smallest privateer afloat. This gave the ship relief, and our hopes rose of saving her. Of late we had been on the smallest possible allowance of water, and now, to our dismay, the purser announced that the last cask was expended. Nor could wine or spirits be got at owing to the quantity of water in the hold. We had beef and pork, but the bread was all spoiled; thus, even should we keep the ship afloat, we ran the risk of dying of hunger and thirst. Of the crew of theHector, which had consisted of three hundred men when my companions and I got on board, nearly one hundred had been killed in action, or had since died, and still others were dropping off fast.

Day after day went by. We had known when in the boat what it was to suffer from thirst, but I now felt it more severely. Even Nettleship owned to me that he didn’t think he could get through another day.

“I don’t know whether either of us will survive, Paddy,” he said, “but if you do, I want you to write to my mother and sister, who live near Plymouth, to tell them what happened to me, and that I thought of them to the last; and should be thankful if you could just get some one to let the Admiralty know that Jack Nettleship did his duty while life remained.”

I tried to cheer him up, at the same time promising to carry out his wishes if I should survive him. I fancy a good many, both of officers and men, were feeling as he did. Still, no one I saw showed any signs of cowardly apprehension. Our chief work was now to keep the men at the pumps and baling. It was only by the constant efforts of the officers that they could be induced to remain at their stations; and when “Spell ho!” was cried, and a fresh gang was ordered to take their places, the people relieved staggered away, and fell down on the deck like drunken men. The others, after labouring away for some time, relaxed in their exertions. Nettleship and I were standing near, occasionally taking a turn to help them. One poor fellow fell down. We ran forward to lift him up, but he was dead. We could only just drag him out of the way and call to another to take his place. Before many minutes were over another fell in the same way, dying at the post of duty, as heroically as if he had been standing at his gun. One of the lieutenants, who just then came up, called the surgeon to examine them. He came at once, but his efforts proved ineffectual to restore the men, and they were soon sent to join a number of their shipmates in their ocean grave. Two or three others, I heard, died in the same manner, when I was not present. The gun-room had become uninhabitable from the water washing through it. We had to move up to the ward-room. The deck below us was fast sinking. The carpenter reported that some of the beams of the orlop deck had fallen into the hold, though they must have done so gradually, for we had heard no sound to account for what had taken place. Indeed, the loud noise of the seas beating against the ship, and the water washing about in the hold, prevented any noises except the loudest from being heard. We all now knew that the ship was sinking. Only by the greatest exertions could she be kept afloat to prolong our lives for a few hours. Still no one talked of giving in.

Captain Bouchier, wounded as he was, got up and went about, encouraging both officers and men. The spirit he and Captain Drury displayed encouraged us all. For three days we had none of us tasted a drop of water or spirits. We could judge by our own sufferings the fearful agonies the sick and wounded must be enduring. Not one would have survived, had not the surgeon discovered a few bottles of claret, which the captain insisted should be reserved for them, and though he required it as much as any one, he would not touch a drop himself.

The third day since the water had been exhausted came to an end, and few of us expected to see another sunrise. That night was a dreadful one. The loud lashing of the sea against the side, the creaking of the bulkheads, the ominous sounds which came from the depths of the ship, the groans and cries of the sick and dying, heard at intervals, the ceaseless clanging of the pumps, rang in our ears as we lay, during our watch below, on our damp beds extended on the ward-room deck. The night, however, did come to an end, and we found ourselves still alive, though the ship had evidently sunk lower since the previous day. I joined Nettleship on deck, for we naturally kept together as much as we could. I found that the wind was still blowing strongly, and the sea running high, although it had lately somewhat gone down. Nothing could be seen around but the leaden-coloured foaming seas rising and sinking between us and the horizon. On comparing notes, my two messmates and I agreed that we didn’t suffer nearly so much from thirst as we had done in the boat. Such provisions as could be got at were served out, but none of us cared much for food, though we ate what we could to keep up our strength. We were soon summoned to watch and assist the men at the pumps and buckets, for even now, not for an instant were they allowed to relax in their exertions. Captain Bouchier, weak as he was, went frequently amongst them.

“Keep at it, my lads!” cried Nettleship; “while there’s life there’s hope. If we can keep the ship afloat for a short time longer, it may make all the difference whether we save our lives or perish. Cheer up, lads, cheer up! Show that you’re British seamen to the last!”

The men uttered a faint cheer when the captain, leaning on the purser’s arm, returned.

Captain Drury, who had fought the ship so bravely after Captain Bouchier was wounded, was the life and soul of all on board.

Noon had passed, and still the stout ship lay rolling in the trough of the sea. Inch by inch the water was rising, and we knew that if we were to cease pumping and baling, it would gain upon us still more rapidly.

Already despair could be seen on nearly every countenance. Notwithstanding, few, if any, flinched from their work. Those who spoke, talked of home and friends whom they never expected to see again. Some shook hands, believing that at any moment the ship might make the last fatal plunge, and sink beneath the waves.

Larry was now like my shadow, wherever I went, he followed, no one preventing him, except when he had to take his turn at the pumps or buckets.

Some of the officers had written letters addressed to friends or relatives, and were enclosing them in bottles headed up in small casks, so that some record might be preserved of our fate. Nettleship had prepared one.

“Have you anything to say to your friends at Ballinahone, Paddy?” he asked.

“Yes; beg your mother to write to them, and say that I send my love to all, not forgetting my uncle the major, and that I have been thinking much of them to-day,” I answered, as well as I could speak with the choking sensation in my throat.

“And please, Mr Nettleship, may I be so bold as to axe you to put in a word about Larry Harrigan, and to say that he stuck to Mr Terence to the last, and that if he couldn’t save him, it wasn’t the will that was wanting, but the cruel say was too much for us at last.”

“And put in a word to my family,—you know their address,” said Tom; “just my love, and that I was thinking of them. They’ll know that I was likely to have done my duty as far as I could, so I won’t trouble you with a longer message.”

Just as Nettleship had returned to the gun-room to add the messages to his letter, there came a shout from the poop—

“A sail! a sail!”

Many of the officers rushed up to take a look at her. Tom Pim and I followed them. We could make her out clearly,—a small vessel, right away to windward. The question was whether she would see us.

Captain Drury also had his telescope on her.

Now she was hidden by the seas which rose up between us; now she came clearly into view, her hull almost visible.

“She’s standing this way,” said Captain Drury, “and I believe has made us out, but of that we can’t be certain. However, we must not relax in our efforts to keep the ship afloat, for it may be many hours before we can get aboard her.”

I should have said that we had had a spar secured to the stump of the mainmast, to which an ensign with a jack downwards had been nailed from the first, in the hopes of attracting the attention of any passing vessel.

Captain Bouchier, who had been informed that a sail was in sight, now came up to have a look at her, but almost immediately went down again among the men.

“Lads,” he said, “your exertions will be rewarded, I hope; but you must not slacken in them, or your labours may be thrown away. We may keep the ship afloat many hours longer if you bale and pump as sturdily as heretofore. By that time the sea may have gone down, and we may manage to get aboard the vessel in her boats, though she probably will not venture alongside.”

The men received his address with a faint cheer, and turned to again at the pumps, while those employed in baling passed the buckets to and fro with greater alacrity even than before.

I occasionally ran up on deck to see how near she was getting. I know my heart bounded when I saw the English flag flying out at her peak. She appeared to be a good-sized merchantman, a “snow,” and I heard some of the officers who had been looking through their glasses say that she had guns aboard.

On hearing my report when I returned, some of the men burst into tears, others shouted for joy and shook each other by the hand, believing that our deliverance was near.

Night was now coming on. The sea still ran too high to allow of boats laden with men to pass from one vessel to the other. For the same reason it was impossible for the stranger to come near enough to take any of us off. Many would very probably perish in the attempt, even if the snow should escape being hove against us and stove in.

Again I ran up. All those on deck were now stretching out their hands towards her. She came close enough for the voice of her captain—who stood on the poop—to be heard through his speaking-trumpet.

“I’ll stay by you during the night,” he shouted. “The sea is going down. In the morning I’ll take you off,—please God.”

The last words reached us as the stranger surged by, close under our lee. She then hove-to at a safe distance. Eager eyes were turned towards her before the light altogether faded away, and many looked as if they were tempted to leap overboard and swim to her. Thirsty, hungry, and weary as we were, we would gladly have knocked off baling; but the captain wisely ordered us to keep at it as long as we remained on board.

“You can’t tell, my lads, when the bucketful will leak in that will send her to the bottom,” he said, and the men again turned to. He ordered, however, the carpenter to patch up such of the boats as could be made serviceable enough to float even for a short time, so that they might be employed in carrying us aboard the snow. Without the masts the launch could not be got off the deck, but we had three other boats fit to be repaired; all the others had been completely knocked to pieces. No one slept at all events during that night, for we were all kept spell and spell at the pumps and buckets. The certainty that relief was at hand if we kept afloat, inspired us with renewed strength. When morning dawned the snow came as close as she could venture. Three of her boats approached and pulled towards us. The order was now given for the men to prepare for leaving the ship. Sentries were placed at the gangways to prevent any crowding in till they received the order to go down the side, but this was unnecessary. The few survivors of the sick and wounded were first lowered into the boats, with the surgeons to attend them. The boys and midshipmen were then ordered to go down the side, the names of all being called in succession. As soon as the snow’s boats were filled and had pulled away, ours were lowered. Tom Pim and I went, with Larry, in one of them, Nettleship having charge of her. I looked up at the old ship. She seemed to be settling fast. The water came out of the scuppers, showing that, according to the captain’s orders, the hands were still at the pumps. There was no hurry, yet all was done rapidly. The moment we shoved off our crew gave way, and we were soon aboard the snow. While Nettleship returned for more men, Tom and I stood watching them anxiously. It seemed even now that before they could escape the ship would go down. Though the sea had much decreased, there was no little danger, while the boats were alongside theHector, of their being swamped. As fast as they could the boats went backwards and forwards, taking their cargoes in through the lower ports. I saw Captain Drury and the first lieutenant pressing Captain Bouchier to leave the ship, but in spite of his wound he insisted on remaining to the last. Our men, as they arrived, stood watching the ship from the deck of the snow, and gave a cheer as they saw him descending, the last man, into the cutter, for they knew that not a soul was left on board the gallantHector, Scarcely had the captain been helped up the side, than we saw the ship’s head begin to sink. Lower and lower it went, then down she plunged, her ensign flying from the spar secured to the stump of her mainmast, streaming upwards, alone showing us the spot where she was sinking into the depths of the ocean. A groan escaped from the breasts of many of those who had long sailed in her. We found that we were on board theHawksnow, a letter-of-marque belonging to Dartmouth, Captain John Hill, and bound from Lisbon to Saint John’s, Newfoundland. When Captain Bouchier expressed his gratitude to the master for receiving him and his people, the reply was—

“Don’t talk of it, sir; I’m but doing my duty. I would wish to be treated the same way by others.”

Besides his own crew of five-and-twenty men, he had now two hundred of theHector’son board. We had brought neither provisions nor water, and were still many a long league from our port. TheHawkhad fortunately hitherto had a quick passage. We had, therefore, more provisions and water on board than would otherwise have been the case. Still two hundred mouths in addition was a large number to feed, yet neither the captain nor his ship’s company grumbled or made the slightest complaint. To stow us all away was the difficulty. To solve it, the captain at once ordered his men to heave overboard the more bulky portion of his cargo. His owners, he said, would not complain, for he himself was the principal one, and he trusted to the justice of his country to replace his loss. We were, of course, put on an allowance, but after the starvation we had endured, it appeared abundance. Even when the cargo had been got rid of it was unpleasantly close stowing for most of us, but we had great reason to be thankful to Heaven for having escaped with our lives. The officers and crew of theHawktreated us with the greatest kindness; most of our poor fellows, indeed, required help, and were unable to move about the deck by themselves. The wind, however, continued fair, and those who had abundant sleep recovered their spirits. Still several died, worn out by fatigue and sickness. We were safe for the present, and we did not allow ourselves to recollect that another gale might spring up before we could reach Saint John’s, to which port we were bound, or that contrary winds might keep us from our port, and that, after all, we might perish from hunger and thirst. I was talking of what we should do when we got ashore.

“Wait till we are there, Paddy,” said Nettleship. “I don’t say that we shall not reach it, but we may not. That noble fellow, Hill, knows that such may be the case as well as I do; and I admire his calmness, and the care he takes not to show us that he fears he and his people may suffer the fate from which they rescued our ship’s company. You see they are all put on the same allowance that we are, yet not one of them complains.”

I heartily agreed with him. Shortly afterwards I asked Nettleship what he had done with his letter.

“I left it in the cask aboard, Paddy,” he answered. “So in case we’re lost, our friends will know our whereabouts, though they’ll not hear of our being rescued, and the chance we have had of escaping; but that won’t matter much, though I should like to have made Hill’s conduct known.”

Never, perhaps, did seamen watch the weather more anxiously than we did. Our lives, as far as we could see, depended on the winds. Already the stock of provisions and water was getting low, and it was necessary to diminish the allowance of both. Still the crew of theHawkwould only receive the same quantity that we did. The sun rose and set, and again rose, and we sailed on. Mr Hill met us each morning at breakfast, his honest countenance beaming with kindness, and jocularly apologised for the scantiness of the fare. Even he, however, one morning looked grave; the wind had fallen, and we lay becalmed. He had good reason to be grave, for he knew what we did not, that he had only one cask of water left, and provisions scarcely sufficient for a couple of days.

“I have come away without fish-hooks,” he observed. “If I had had them, gentlemen, I might have given you cod for dinner; and I promise you I’ll never be without them again, when I make this voyage.”

“Then I only hope, captain, that you’ll take us up again if we happen to have our ship sinking under us,” I said, at which there was a general laugh.

As we had nothing else to do, all hands employed themselves in whistling for a breeze. Just before the sun again rose, a cheering shout was heard from the masthead—

“Land! land!”

In a short time the rocky coast of Newfoundland rose on the larboard bow, and we stood along to the northward for Saint John’s harbour, on the east coast. Before evening we were passing through the Narrows, a passage leading to the harbour, with perpendicular precipices rising to a considerable height on either side. Passing under Fort Amhurst, a voice came off hailing—

“Where are you from? What length of passage?”

The answer announcing, “We have on board the officers and crew of H.M.S.Hector,” evidently caused considerable excitement, and signals were made to a post on the top of a lofty hill on the right side, whence the information was conveyed to the town.

Before we dropped our anchor, the last cask of water was emptied, the last particle of food consumed.

The moment we brought up, the vessel was surrounded by boats, the news of our arrival having preceded us. Before landing, all the officers again expressed their thanks to our gallant preserver, who, I hope, received the reward he so well merited, from our Government, we ourselves being unable to offer him any. None of us, indeed, had more than the clothes we wore, and a few articles we had been able to carry off with us from the wreck.

We were received with the greatest kindness and hospitality by the inhabitants of Saint John’s. Nettleship, Tom, and I were lodged together in the house of a merchant, whose wife and daughters, pitying our condition, did everything they could to restore us to health. Certainly we were very unlike the gay midshipmen we appeared when we sailed from Jamaica. Both the young ladies were very nice girls; but Tom confided to me that his heart had become hard as adamant since Lucy’s cruel treatment of him.

“It will soften by and by, Tom,” I answered, laughing, though I could not say that I felt mine inclined to yield to their attractions.

We agreed, however, that Nettleship, as we thought, would knock under. What might have been the case I don’t know; but as soon as the men had somewhat recovered from their hardships,—there being no man-o’-war likely to call off the place,—the captain chartered two merchant brigs to convey himself and the survivors of theHectorto Halifax, Nova Scotia, whence he expected to get a passage home for us to England. Nettleship, Tom, and I, accompanied by Larry, had to go on board theJane, one of the vessels, of which Captain Drury went in charge; while Captain Bouchier, though still not recovered from his wound, went in the other, theJohn Thomas.

I did not mention it at the time, but Larry had managed to save his riddle uninjured when he left theHector, and his appearance with it under his arm afforded no small amount of satisfaction to the crew of theJane.

TheJohn Thomasproved a much faster sailer than the brig, and soon ran ahead of us. We had just lost sight of Cape Race when a sail was made out, standing towards us from the southward.

“I don’t like her looks,” observed Nettleship to me, as she approached. “I shouldn’t be surprised if she proves to be a French privateer.”

The captain appeared to be of this opinion, for, after: examining the stranger through his glass, he ordered all the sail we could carry to be set, and stood away right before the wind, to the north-west. The stranger, however, came up with us hand over hand. In a short time the French ensign was seen blowing out at her peak, leaving no doubt as to her character.

“We must not be taken, lads. I trust to you to fight to the last, before we strike our flag,” cried the captain.

The crew cheered, and promised to do their best.

TheJanehad six nine-pounders, while the enemy carried twice as many guns, evidently of much heavier metal. As a few men only were required to work them, the captain ordered the rest to go under shelter. Tom and I were among those ordered below. In a short time we heard our guns go off, and the shot of the enemy came rattling on board. Presently there came a crash, and we guessed that the privateer had run us alongside.

“On deck, lads!” cried the captain. “Boarders, repel boarders.”

At the summons we eagerly rushed up through every hatchway, to see a number of Frenchmen swarming on board; but they didn’t get far beyond the bulwarks before they were driven back, we in return boarding them. Tom and I led our men into the fore part of the vessel. More and more of our fellows followed. The Frenchmen gave way, some leaped below, others ran aft, where they encountered Nettleship and his party; in less than five minutes the privateer was ours, and Larry, shouting—

“Wallop-a-hoo-aboo! Erin go bragh!” hauled down her colours.

The enemy had so completely been taken by surprise, that they had offered but a slight resistance, and few, therefore, had lost their lives, while we had only half a dozen wounded. Captain Drury, with two-thirds of our men, went on board the prize, retaining the larger number of our prisoners; while Nettleship, Tom, and I remained in theJane, with orders to follow close astern.

“We must take care, Paddy, that our prisoners don’t play us the same trick yours played you,” said Nettleship. “They would like to try it, no doubt.”

We had thirty prisoners to look after.

“I’ll take remarkably good care that they don’t do that,” I answered; “and to make sure, it would be as well to keep them in durance vile till we reach Halifax.”

The Frenchmen grumbled at finding that they were to have their arms lashed behind them, and be kept below under charge of a couple of sentries. They were somewhat more contented when we fed them carefully, and told them that it was because we considered them brave fellows, and felt sure that if they had the opportunity they would take the brig from us, that we were obliged to treat them so unceremoniously. Fortunately the wind held fair, and we had a quick passage to Halifax, where we arrived before the harbour was frozen up. Of course we gained great credit for our last exploit at that favourite naval station.

We found theMaidstonefrigate just about to sail for England, on board of which all who were well enough were ordered home. We were pretty considerably crowded, but we were a merry set, and had plenty to talk about. The midshipmen of theMaidstone, which had been for some time at Halifax, spoke warmly of the kindness they had received, and of the fascinations of the young ladies of the place, except an old mate and an assistant-surgeon, who declared that they had been abominably treated, and jilted by half-a-dozen whose hearts they thought they had won.

Old Grumpus, the master’s mate, was especially bitter. “Look here,” he said, producing a sketch which he had made. “See these old ladies seated on chairs on the quay, watching their daughters fishing. There are a dozen girls at least, with long rods and hooks, baited with all sorts of odds and ends. And see what sort of fish they’re after,—naval officers—marine officers—and of all ranks, from an admiral down to a young midshipman. And there’s a stout dame—she can’t be called a young lady exactly—casting her hook towards a sturdy boatswain.

“‘Look here,’ one of them cries out, ‘mother, mother, I’ve got a bite.’

“‘Play him, my dear,’ cries the mother, ‘till you see what he is.’

“‘Oh, mother, mother!’ she cries out presently, ‘I’ve caught a midshipman.’

“‘Throw him in, my dear, he’s no good,’ answered the old lady.

“Presently another sings out, ‘Mother, I’ve got a bite. I’m sure it’s from a lieutenant, from the way he pulls.’

“‘Let him hang on a little, my dear,’ says the mother; ‘may be if you see a commander or a post-captain swimming by, you may cast him off, and hook one of the others instead.’

“Presently a fourth cries out, ‘Oh, mother, I’ve hooked a captain!’

“‘Run, Jane, run, and help your sister to land him,’ cries Mrs Thingamebob; and just see the way they’re doing it, so as not to frighten him, and make him turn tail.

“At last another shouts, ‘Mother, I’ve hooked a master’s mate.’

“‘Then go and cut the line, Susan. Don’t let Nancy land that brute, on any account. He’s the worst of the lot.’

“And so it goes on,” exclaimed old Grumpus. “However, to my mind they’re all alike. Why, while we have been there a dozen officers from different ships have been and got spliced. It’s lucky for you fellows that you were not there long, or you would have been and done it, and repented it all your lives afterwards.”

During the voyage old Grumpus brought out his sketch a score of times, and repeated his story as often, with numerous variations, which afforded us all much amusement. He had anecdotes of other descriptions without end to tell, most of them hingeing on the bad way the junior officers of the service were treated. He didn’t say that most of those junior officers were rough diamonds like himself, who would have been much better off if they had not been placed on the quarter-deck.

We had a somewhat long and stormy passage, and were half frozen to death before it was over, most of us who had been for years in the West Indies being little prepared for cold weather. We should have been much worse off, however, in a line-of-battle ship, but in the midshipmen’s berth we managed to keep ourselves tolerably warm when below. At length we sighted the coast of Ireland.

“Hurrah, Mr Terence! There’s the old country,” said Larry, throwing up his hat in his excitement, and nearly losing it overboard. “If the captain would only put into Cork harbour, we would be at home in two or three days, and shure they’d be mighty pleased to see us at Ballinahone. What lashings of whisky, and pigs, and praties they’d be after eating and drinking in our honour, just come home from the wars. Och! I wish we were there, before a blazing turf fire, with the peat piled up, and every one of them red and burning, instead of being out here with these cold winds almost blowing our teeth down our throats.”

The picture Larry drew made me more than ever wish to get home. Not that I was tired of a sea life, though I had found it a pretty hard one in some respects; but I longed to see my father, and mother, and brothers, and sisters again, and my kind uncle the major, as I had not heard from them for many a long day. Letters in those days were conveyed to distant stations very irregularly. I had only received two all the time I had been away. Indeed, friends, knowing the great uncertainty which existed of letters reaching, thought it scarcely worth while to write them. We could just see the land, blue and indistinct, over our larboard bow, when the wind veered to the eastward, and instead of standing for Plymouth, as we expected to do, we were kept knocking about in the Chops of the Channel for three long weeks, till our water was nearly exhausted, and our provisions had run short. There we were, day after day, now standing on one tack, now on another, never gaining an inch of ground. Every morning the same question was put, and the same answer given—

“Blowing as hard as ever, and right in our teeth.”

We sighted a number of merchant vessels, and occasionally a man-of-war, homeward-bound from other stations, but all were as badly off as we were.

At last one morning the look-out at the masthead shouted, “A sail to the eastward coming down before the wind.” It was just possible she might be an enemy. The drum beat to quarters, and the ship was got ready for action. On getting nearer, however, she showed English colours, and we then made out her number to be that of theThetisfrigate. As soon as we got near each other we both hove-to. Though there was a good deal of sea running, two of our boats were soon alongside her to obtain water, and some casks of bread and beef, for, as far as we could tell to the contrary, we might be another month knocking about where we were. In the meantime, one of her boats brought a lieutenant on board us.

“Peace has been signed between Great Britain and France,” were almost the first words he uttered when he stepped on deck. “I can’t give particulars, but all I know is, that everything we have been fighting for is to remain much as it was before. We are to give up what we have taken from the French, and the French what they have taken from us, and we are to shake hands and be very good friends. There has been great rejoicing on shore, and bonfires and feasts in honour of the event.”

I can’t say that the news produced any amount of satisfaction to those on board theMaidstone.

“Then my hope of promotion has gone,” groaned Nettleship; “and you, Paddy, will have very little chance of getting yours, for which I’m heartily sorry; for after the creditable way in which you have behaved since you came to sea, I fully expected to see you rise in your profession, and be an honour to it.”

“What’s the use of talking to sucking babies like Paddy and Tom here about their promotion, in these piping times of peace which are coming on us,” cried old Grumpus, “if we couldn’t get ours while the war was going on?”

Chapter Twenty One.Festivities at Home.The news of peace was received perhaps with more satisfaction by the men who had no promotion to look for, and who now expected to visit their families, or enjoy themselves in spending their prize-money according to their own fashion on shore.Parting from theThetis, we continued beating backwards and forwards for another week, when the wind shifting suddenly to the southward, we ran up to Plymouth, and at last dropped anchor in Hamoaze. We lived on board till the ship was paid off. In the meantime, I wrote home to say that Larry and I would return as soon as we could manage to get a passage to Cork. Tom Pim was uncertain of the whereabouts of his family, so he also waited till he could hear from them. Nettleship had told us that his mother and sister lived near Plymouth, and he got leave to run over and see them.“It won’t be a good thing for you youngsters to be knocking about this place by yourselves,” he said, on his returning; “and so, having told my mother this, she has invited both of you, with Larry, to come up and stay with us till you can go home. You’ll be much better off than in lodgings, or stopping at an inn, even though you may find it somewhat dull.”Tom at once accepted the invitation, and persuaded me to do so, though I wanted to see some of the fun of Plymouth, which my other shipmates had talked about. I won’t describe the scenes which took place on board,—the noise and uproar,—the characters of all descriptions who crowded the ship, eager to take possession of the sailors, or rather of the money which lined their pockets. I saw very much the contrary of fun in it. We had then a midshipman’s paying-off dinner on shore, to which some of the ward-room officers were invited. The wine flowed freely. Healths were drunk and sentiments given, and in a short time most of the party became very uproarious, those who were sober enough on shore being as bad as the rest.“Come, Paddy,” said Nettleship, “we have to get home to my mother’s house to-night, and I can’t introduce you, remember, if you’re not quite yourself.”Tom Pim was ready.“So am I,” I said. “I’ll not take another drop.”Our intended departure being discovered, we were assailed with hoots, and shouts, and groans.“Never mind them,” said Nettleship. “If we were to be moved by that sort of stuff, those very fellows would be the first to laugh at us another day.”On seeing us gaining the door, several jumped up, intending to bring us back.“Run for it, Paddy; run, Tom,” cried Nettleship. “I’ll guard your retreat. They’ll not stop me.”“Hands off,” he shouted, as Grumpus and some others attempted to seize him. “I have made up my mind to go, and go I will, though every one in the room were to jump up and try to bar my passage.”Tom and I got safe into the street, where we were joined by Larry, who had been waiting for us; and Nettleship came up, saying that he had got clear off, at the cost of flooring two or three of his assailants.“Not a satisfactory way of parting from old friends,” he said, “but the only one which circumstances would permit.”We at once set off, walking briskly, to get as soon as possible away from the scene of our shipmates’ revels. We at length reached a pretty little cottage, a short way out of Plymouth, where Mrs Nettleship and her daughter received us in the kindest manner possible. I was struck by the appearance of the two ladies, so nicely dressed, and quiet in their manners, while the house seemed wonderfully neat and fresh, greatly differing from the appearance of Ballinahone. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been in an English house. When Nettleship talked of his mother’s cottage, I had expected to see something like the residence of an Irish squireen. Both inside and out the house was the same,—the garden full of sweetly-scented flowers, the gravel walks without a weed in them, and the hedges carefully trimmed. Then when Tom and I were shown to the room we were to occupy, I was struck by the white dimity hangings to the beds, the fresh curtains and blinds, the little grate polished to perfection, and a bouquet of flowers on the dressing-table. Tom was not so impressed as I was, though he said it reminded him of his own home. Miss Fanny was considerably younger than Nettleship, a fair-haired, blue-eyed, sweetly-smiling, modest-looking girl, who treated Tom and me as if we were her brothers.Nettleship and Tom accompanied me into Plymouth each morning, that I might learn if any vessel was sailing for Cork, and thus be saved the journey to Bristol, with which place and Ireland, as there was a considerable amount of trade carried on, I was told that I should have no difficulty in obtaining a vessel across. I was so happy where I was, however, that I was less in a hurry than might have been supposed. I had no want of funds for the purpose, for I had received my pay; and a good share of prize-money for the vessels we had captured was also due to me, though, as Nettleship told me, I must not count upon getting that in a hurry.At last, one morning, on going to a shipbroker, who had promised to let me know of any vessel putting into Plymouth on her way to Cork, he told me that one had just arrived, and would sail again in a few hours. I at once went on board theNancyschooner, and engaged a passage for Larry and myself, and then hurried back to wish Mrs Nettleship and her daughter good-bye. My old shipmates returned with me, and Larry carried our few traps over his shoulder, as I had not possessed a chest since mine was lost in theLiffy.“Good-bye, Paddy, old fellow,” cried Nettleship. “If I get appointed to a ship I’ll let you know, and you must exert your interest to join her; and I hope Tom also will find his way aboard. We have been four years together without so much as a shadow of a quarrel; and if we were to spend another four years in each other’s company, I’m sure it would be the same.”Tom merely wrung my hand; his heart was too full to speak.“Good-bye, Mr Pim,” said Larry, as the schooner’s boat was waiting for us at the quay. “Your honour saved my life, and I would have been after saving yours, if I had had the chance, a dozen times over.”“You saved it once, at least, Larry, when you helped to get me out of the water as the boat was leaving theCerberusand I hope that we may be again together, to give you another chance.”“There’s nothing I’d like better. May Heaven’s blessing go with your honour,” said Larry, as Tom held out his hand and shook his warmly.Our friends stood on the shore as we pulled across the Catwater to the schooner, which lay at the entrance. Directly we were on board she got under weigh, and with a fair breeze we stood down Plymouth Sound. She was a terribly slow sailer, and we had a much longer passage to Cork than I had expected. We had no longer any fear of being snapped up by a privateer, but, seeing her style of sailing, I hoped that we should not be caught in a gale on a lee shore, or we should have run a great chance of being wrecked.Larry made friends with all on board, keeping them alive with his fiddle, which he was excessively proud of having saved through so many and various dangers.“Shure, I wouldn’t change it for all the gold in theVille de Paris, if it could be fished up from the bottom of the say,” he exclaimed, “for that couldn’t cheer up the hearts of my shipmates as my old fiddle can be doing. Won’t I be after setting them toeing and heeling it when we get back to Ballinahone!”At length our eyes were rejoiced by a sight of the entrance to Cork Harbour, and the wind being fair, we at once ran up to Passage, where I engaged a boat to take us to Cork. As we had no luggage except what Larry could carry, and he wouldn’t let me lift an article, we proceeded at once to the inn at which my uncle and I had put up.I was just about to enter through the doorway, when I saw a tall figure standing before me, not older by a wrinkle than when I, a stripling, had last seen him, standing on the quay waving me a farewell; his hat and coat, the curl of his wig, every article of dress, was the same. For a moment he looked at me as if I were a stranger; then, recognising my features, though in height and breadth I was so changed, he stretched out his arms, exclaiming—“Terence, my nephew! Is it you, indeed?” and embracing me, his feelings overcame him, and he could say no more for some minutes. “I came on the chance of meeting you, though I knew not when you would arrive,” he said at length. “I have been waiting day after day, every hour in expectation of seeing you; but faith, when my eyes first fell on your figure I forgot the change that four years would have produced in you, and took you for a stranger. And you have brought back Larry safe from the wars? Glad to see you, boy. I thought you would be taking care of the young master.”“Faith, your honour, I should have been mighty grieved at myself if I hadn’t done the best I could; and it’s a pleasure to hand him back to you, major, without a wound or a scratch, though the round shot and bullets have been flying about pretty quickly round him; and we’ve escaped from fire and hurricane, and shipwrecks and earthquakes, and a mighty lot of other things besides.”“And you, uncle, don’t look a day older than when I went away,” I said.“You must not trust too much to appearances, Terence,” he answered, shaking his head. “The enemy has been sapping the foundations, though he has not as yet taken the fortress. I have a good many things to try me. Matters at home are not in a satisfactory state.”“It was about them all I was going to ask, uncle,” I said. “How are my father and mother, the girls and the boys?”“Your mother is not so strong as she was, though she bears up bravely; but your poor father has greatly changed. Though he has given up his claret, he still sticks to his potations of rum shrub and whisky punch, which are rapidly bringing him to his grave, though he won’t believe it Kathleen and Nora are married; Kathleen to Eustace Fitzgerald, and Nora to Tim Daley. I would rather they had found steadier husbands, but they’ll bring the boys into order, I hope, in time. Your brother Maurice got his commission soon after you left home, and, having seen some service in America, has lately returned home on leave. I was in hopes that he would have fallen in with you. Denis stops at home to help me mind the house and keep things in order. The rest have grown into strapping lads, and it’s time to be sending them out into the world to seek their fortunes. The Fitzgeralds and the Daleys are staying at the Castle, and they’ll be mightily pleased to see you. We will start to-morrow morning at daylight. I brought horses for you and Larry, with Tim Sweeney to look after them, for I suppose that Larry will scarcely know the head from the tail of one by this time.”“Och, your honour, I’ll soon be after remembering which is which when I see the bastes again, though I haven’t crossed a horse’s back since I left,” said Larry, in answer to my uncle’s remark.“I’ll trust you for that, my lad,” said the major; “and now, Terence, we will go in and order supper, and while it’s coming, you shall give me an account of your adventures.”I was soon seated before the fire, briefly describing what I had gone through, in as clear a way as I could. My uncle was deeply interested, and constantly stopped me to put questions, when he did not clearly understand my descriptions. Even when we were at supper he made me talk on, appearing scarcely to think about what he was eating, so eager was he to listen to me. He was much struck on hearing of Dan Hoolan’s fate.“I can’t say the country is much the quieter, for unfortunately there are too many boys of the same character to take his place,” he remarked, “but I hope we shall reach Ballinahone without meeting any of them.”At last, seeing that I was getting sleepy, he advised me to turn in, to be ready to start in the morning.Larry in the meantime had been well taken care of by Tim Sweeney,—indeed, too much taken care of; for when he came into my room to see if I wanted anything, he stood balancing himself with difficulty, and talking away, until I was obliged to turn him out and bid him go to bed as fast as he could.The next morning we were on the road, the major sitting his horse as firmly as ever; and indeed, except that we were going in an opposite direction, I might have fancied, until I looked at Larry and felt the change that had come over myself, that we were but continuing our journey of four years back.Having plenty to talk about, I rode alongside my uncle, Larry and Tim following us, the latter listening with eager ears to the wonderful accounts Larry was giving him. We pushed on as fast as our horses would carry us, but as the roads were none of the best, our progress was much slower than I liked.The afternoon of the second day my uncle proposed that, instead of stopping at the village through which we were then passing, we should push on to a little roadside inn, that we might be so much the further on our way next morning. It was almost dark when we arrived, but the landlord, Pat Casey, who knew my uncle well, received us warmly, promising to give us all the accommodation we could desire, and a supper and breakfast not to be despised. Pat at once fulfilled his promise by placing some rashers of bacon and fresh eggs, and actually a white loaf, which with several others he said he had received that morning, on the table.“I would be after having some tay for breakfast, but I wouldn’t dream of giving it to your honours for supper,” he said, as he placed instead on the table a bottle of the cratur, from which, he observed with a wink, the revenue had not in any way benefited, while a bowl of smoking hot potatoes formed the chief dish of the feast. I remember doing good justice to it, and was not sorry when my uncle proposed that we should retire to our downy couches. Unpretending as was the outside of the inn, they were far superior to what I should have expected; mine was a feather bed to which many hundreds of geese must have contributed, while the curtains were of silk, faded and patched, to be sure, but showing that they had come from some grand mansion. I slept like a top, till my uncle roused me up in the morning with the announcement that breakfast was nearly ready. To that I was prepared to do more ample justice than I did to the supper.“Come, Terence, let us take our seats,” said my uncle. “Biddy has just placed the things on the table, and they will be getting cold.”The breakfast looked tempting. There was a pile of buttered toast, plenty of new-laid eggs, a beautiful griskin broiled to perfection, and water boiling on the hot turf fire in a saucepan. The teapot having taken to leaking, as Biddy said, she had made the tea in the potheen jug. I was just about to follow my uncle’s example, when there came a rap at the outside door of the paved parlour in which we were sitting.“Come in,” said my uncle.No one answered.“Go and see who it is, Terence; maybe it’s some modest fellow who doesn’t like to open the door.”No sooner had I lifted the latch than I felt a heavy shove. The door flew open, and before I could get out of the way, in rushed a huge sow, knocking me over in a moment; and while I was kicking my heels in the air, over my body came nearly a dozen young pigs, their amiable mother making her way round the room, grunting, snorting, and catching the air through her enormous proboscis.“Jump up, Terence! jump up, or she’ll be at you!” said my uncle, coming to my assistance; but the sow was too rapid in her movements, and, ere he could reach me, charged furiously at his legs. Fortunately he escaped her by springing with wonderful agility out of her way, and, mounting on a chair, got up on the top of a chest of drawers, which formed a convenient place of retreat. In the meantime I got on my legs, and, seeing the savage sow was inclined to attack me, I sprang on to the chest of drawers, the only safe place I could discover. Here we sat, regularly besieged, for our weapons of offence and defence had been left on the table. The sow, seeming to know the advantage she had gained, kept eyeing us savagely. Indeed, unless we had thought it worth while to run the risk of an attack from her, we saw that we must make up our minds to remain where we were. The louder we shouted for help, the more enraged the sow became, thirsting, as we had reason to believe, for our blood. She was the lankiest, the tallest, and grisliest beast I ever saw; her back, arching higher than a donkey’s, resembled a rustic bridge; her loose-flapping ears nearly hid her small sunken, fiery eyes, their ends just covering one half of her mouth, which divided her head, as it were, into an upper and under storey, clearly showing that she had the means of taking a huge bite out of our legs, could she get at them. Her tusks, like those of a boar, projected from under her nostrils, and the ring and hook in her nose was a formidable weapon of offence, though intended to prevent her from digging up the ground. Her promising family were not little pigs, but had nearly attained the age when they would be turned out to shift for themselves, regular hobbledehoys of swinehood.After rampaging round the room, sniffing the air, and vainly attempting to get at us, the sow ran under the table, which she unceremoniously upset, when, with a peculiar grunt summoning her progeny to the feast, she and they immediately commenced gobbling up our viands. Seeing this, I jumped down, intending to drive her away, but scarcely had I reached the ground when she made so savage a rush at me that I was glad to regain my former position.“This is too bad,” cried the major; and, slipping off the drawers, he seized a chair, with the intention of belabouring our assailant, when just at that moment one of the young pigs, of an inquisitive disposition, hearing the bubbling water on the fire, attempting to look into the pot, brought the scalding contents down upon itself. On feeling its tender bristles getting loose, it set up the most terrific cries, louder even than the most obstinate of its race when the butcher is making preparations for manufacturing it into corned pork. The sow, attributing the cries of her darling to some torture inflicted by us, rushed to the drawers, making several savage attempts to rear up against them so that she could seize us by the legs. Every moment we expected to be caught hold of by the hook in her nose, when we should have inevitably been brought down. In vain we kicked and stamped at her to drive her off, while we shouted loudly for assistance.As it turned out, Larry and Tim were in the stables attending to the horses, while the landlord and his family, having performed, as they supposed, all their required duties in attending on us, had gone to the potato garden. Not for some minutes did Pat hear our voices, and then in he rushed, with astonishment depicted on his countenance. Seizing a stick, he began belabouring the sow, bestowing on her epithets numberless and profuse.“Och! the curse of Crummell light on you for a greedy old sow as ye are,” he exclaimed, whacking away at the creature, who didn’t care for his blows, though she dared not attack him. At length Tim and Larry came in, and, seizing the sow by the tail, attempted to drag her out; she, supposing that they wanted her to go into the room, in the usual swinish spirit of contradiction turned to snap at their legs, and, followed by her hopeful progeny, bolted out of the door. My uncle and I burst into fits of laughter, though in reality it was no laughing business as far as our breakfast was concerned. Pat expressed his fear that there was not another morsel of food in the house; however, Biddy and her assistant, coming in from the potato garden, soon set matters to rights, and put some water on to boil, hunted up some fresh eggs, and produced another loaf. We were too hungry to let them toast and butter it, however. We made a very good breakfast after all, our appetites being sharpened by the exercise of our lungs, not to speak of the alarm we had been in. The occurrence delayed our departure till a later hour than we intended, and we pushed on to try and make up for lost time.I confess that I occasionally looked round, half expecting to see some of Dan Hoolan’s successors come out from behind the rocks or bushes, and demand our valuables; but if any were lying in wait in the neighbourhood, they probably thought four well-armed men too formidable to be assailed, and we proceeded towards our journey’s end without molestation. I had at first felt a sort of callousness about reaching home, and should have been indifferent had any delay occurred; but as I approached Castle Ballinahone I became more and more eager to be there, and could scarcely restrain my feelings when I saw the towers rising beyond the trees in the distance, and the Shannon shining brightly in the rays of the setting sun. My uncle and I gave our horses the rein, and our two attendants clattered after us. The gate of the park was open, and as we dashed up the avenue at full speed, the sounds of our horses’ hoofs attracted the attention of the inmates of the castle. The door was thrown open, and my mother and sisters, and Maurice and Denis and my two brothers-in-law, appeared on the steps, down which the younger boys came springing towards us; while from the servants’ wing out rushed a whole posse of men and girls and dogs,—tumbling over each other, the dogs barking, the girls shrieking, and the men shouting with delight, as they surrounded Larry, and half pulled him off his horse. Dismounting, I sprang up the steps into my mother’s arms, where she held me for some time before she was willing to let me go. I received a similar welcome from my sisters. “You see I have brought him back safe after all,” said the major, benignantly smiling. My hands were next seized by my brothers and brothers-in-law, who wrung their fingers after receiving the grips which I unconsciously bestowed upon them.“And my father?” I asked, not seeing him.“He is in the parlour,” answered my mother in an altered tone; and she led me in. He was seated in his wheelchair, a look of dull imbecility on his countenance.“What! are you Terence?” he asked in a quavering tone. “Come back from the wars, eh? I suppose you are Terence, though I shouldn’t have known you. We will drink your health, though, at supper in whisky punch, if he’ll let me have it, for we can’t afford claret now,—at least so he says, and he knows better than I do.”I was much pained, but tried to conceal my feelings from my mother, though my father’s changed appearance haunted me, and prevented me from being as happy as otherwise would have been the case. His state had been that of many of his neighbours, whom he was fond of boasting he had seen under the sod,—once fine intelligent men, who might have lived out their natural course of years in health and happiness, with everything to make their lives pleasant, had it not been for the drinking habits so general among their class. After the greetings with my family were over, I went into the servants’ hall to have a talk with the old domestics. Larry was in the height of his glory, just getting out his fiddle to give them a tune in honour of our return. They all crowded round me, each eager to grasp my hand, and congratulate me on having escaped the dangers of the wars. I felt myself more of a hero than I had ever done before. The moment I retired I heard Larry’s fiddle going, and the boys and girls beginning to make use of their feet, for it was impossible to keep them quiet while such notes sounded in their ears. After a visit to my chamber, which had long been prepared for me, accompanied by Denis, who wanted to hear all I had got to tell him, I returned to the drawing-room. I there found the family assembled, fully as anxious as my brother to have a narrative of my adventures. My mother, taking my hand, which she held in hers, led me to the sofa, and fondly looked in my face as I described the battles I had been engaged in and the shipwrecks I had encountered. My uncle nodded approvingly as I described the actions in which I had taken a prominent part. My poor father, who had been wheeled into the room, stared with lack-lustre eyes, evidently only comprehending a portion of what I said. The rest of the family occasionally uttered exclamations of surprise and astonishment, now and then putting questions to help me along, when I stopped for want of breath or to recollect myself. I had never in my life talked so much at a stretch.At last we went in to supper. My poor father, lifting his glass with trembling hands to his lips, drank my health. My brothers-in-law, Maurice and Denis, followed his example. The major kindly nodded.“You have done well, Terence, and I’m proud of you,” he exclaimed; “and though the war is over, I hope you’ll still find means to climb up the rattlings, as you say at sea.”Several neighbours looked in, hearing of my arrival, to congratulate me and my family. The whisky-toddy flowed fast. I as usual drank but little; in truth, I had no taste for the stuff, though probably it would have grown upon me, as it does upon others.My uncle looked at me approvingly. “I’m glad to see, Terence,” he said, “that you possess one of the qualities of a good officer, and that even when off duty you retain the habit of sobriety.”My brothers-in-law glanced at each other and laughed, but took care that the major should not observe them. The guests took no notice of my uncle’s remark, evidently intending to make the whisky punch flow freely, the great object for which they had come. Toasts and sentiments, according to the fashion of the day, were given. My father tried to sing one of his old songs, but soon broke down. Several of the other gentlemen, however, took up his stave, and soon began to be uproarious. My mother on this got up, and beckoned to my sisters to follow her. They whispered to their husbands, who, however, only nodded and laughed. My uncle’s object was rather to guide than to suppress the hilarity, and when he observed anything like a dispute arising, he put in a word or two nipping it in the bud in a calm, determined way, to soothe irritated feelings. In a short time Dan Bourke came in, and, putting his hands on the back of my father’s chair, said, “By your leave, gentlemen, I’m come to wheel the master away;” and without more ado, though my poor father stretched out his hand trying to grasp his glass, before he could reach it he was at a distance from the table. It was a melancholy spectacle, and I almost burst into tears as I saw him moving his arms like a child, and trying to kick out with his gouty feet. As Dan wheeled him round towards the door, he shouted and cried, “Just let me have one glass more, Dan, only one; that can’t be after doing me harm.”One of the guests exclaimed, “Can’t you be leaving the master alone, and let him have a glass to comfort his soul? Just one glass can make no matter of difference.”But Dan was obdurate, and, looking over his shoulder, he said, “It’s the orders of the mistress, and they’re to be obeyed.”Had the major’s eye not been upon him, I don’t know how Dan would have behaved, but without another word he wheeled my poor father out of the room, and closed the door behind him. It was almost the last time he appeared at table. His state made a deep and lasting impression on me.As soon as he was gone, the guests went on talking and singing as before, and would probably have kept up their revels till a late hour, had not my uncle reminded them that he and I had just come off a long journey.“As I’ve been playing the part of host, I can’t be so rude as to leave you at table, gentlemen.”The hint, as he intended it to be, was too broad not to be taken, and those whose brains had still some sense left in them rose to take their departure, hoisting the others in a friendly way out of their seats, when arm-in-arm they staggered to the door.“The ladies have retired, so you need not stop to pay your farewell respects to them,” said my uncle; and he told Dan Bourke, who was in the hall, to order the gossoons to bring round the gentlemen’s horses. Some mounted without difficulty, but others had to be helped up on their steeds by my brothers-in-law and Denis. I thought they would have tumbled off.“They’ll be all to rights when once in their saddles,” said Denis. “They’re accustomed to ride home in that state. To be shure, one of them now and then dislocates his neck or breaks his head, but that’s a trifle. It’s too common a way for an Irish gentleman to end his mortal career for anything to be thought of it.”“I hope, Denis, that you’ll not be after following their example,” I remarked.“Faith, the major keeps me in too strict order for that at present,” he said; “I don’t know what I should do if I hadn’t his eye upon me, but I’ll acknowledge I have no wish to become a brute beast, as some of them are.”My first day at home was over. I felt less happy than I had expected. My father’s melancholy condition,—my mother’s sorrow, which she in vain tried to conceal,—and the fallen fortunes of the family, damped my spirits. My brothers-in-law were fine young fellows, but not altogether what I liked; and my sisters were graver than they used to be. Everything about the house looked in a dilapidated condition. My mother and sisters wore old dresses; the furniture was faded; the servants, if not ragged, were but poorly habited. Had it not been for the major, the family, I suspect, would long ere this have been turned out of house and home. I must not spend much time in describing my life at Castle Ballinahone. I soon got tired of it, and began to wish myself at sea again, for I knew that my only chance of promotion was to keep afloat. I told the major. He said that he perfectly agreed with me, and that he would at once write to Captain Macnamara, who was in London, and to two or three other friends, and ask them to try and get me appointed to a ship without delay. After I had been at home a few days, Fitzgerald and Daley invited me to accompany them to the fair at Mullyspeleen, where they wished to dispose of some horses they had bred on my father’s property. Larry begged that he might come, just to see the fun. I observed, as he mounted, that he had strapped his fiddle-case on his back. My journey had made me as much at home as ever on horseback, so that I was enabled to keep up with my brothers. The distance we had to go was about fifteen miles, through beautiful country, with a range of hills in the distance, below which is situated the old castle of Tullinhoe, once the seat of a powerful family, many of the descendants of whom were now probably selling pigs at the fair. We met people wending their way towards the place of meeting, some on foot, some on horseback, others in cars and carts of primitive construction, all grinning and shouting in high glee at the thoughts of the fun to be enjoyed. What that fun was we were soon to witness. Not only were there men, but women and children, down to small babies in arms,—the men with frieze coats, with shillelahs in hands, the women in cloaks and hoods, and caps under them. Others had gaily-coloured handkerchiefs tied over their heads. As we got near the fair the crowd increased, till we sometimes had a difficulty in making our way among the people. As we pushed them aside, however, they were in no way offended, but good-humouredly saluted us with jokes of all sorts. There were tents and booths of various descriptions, the most common among them being formed of wattles,—that is, young saplings cut from some neighbouring estate, the thick ends stuck in the ground some distance apart, and the thin ends bent down till they met, when they were fastened together with haybands. Some twenty or thirty of such arches having been formed, and further secured by a long pole at the top, were covered over with blankets, sheets, and quilts, borrowed from the nearest cottages, occasionally eked out with petticoats and cloaks of varied hue; the quilts, being of every variety of pattern, and of all the colours of the rainbow, had a very gay appearance. The tables were composed of doors carried off from farm buildings and cottages, elevated on hillocks of clay dug from underneath. The benches on either side generally consisted of doors cut longitudinally in two or three parts, and to be nailed together again when done with. Outside several of the tents were huge turf fires, on which pots were boiling, some containing lumps of salt beef and cabbage, while fried herrings were sending up a fragrant odour attractive to hungry visitors. There were cold viands also displayed, to tempt those disposed for a snack, rounds or rumps of beef, hams, bread and cheese, and whisky enough to make every soul in the fair moderately drunk if equally divided. Here and there were booths containing toys and trinkets; but the great object of the fair was for the sale of horses, cows, pigs, and poultry. Besides these were the more pretentious booths of the frieze merchants, who were likely to run a good trade to supply the place of the garments which would be torn into shreds before the fair was over. In other booths, earthenware, knives, and agricultural implements were to be procured. My brothers-in-law having disposed of their horses at a good price,—especially good to them, as the animals had cost them nothing since they were foals,—we agreed to ride round the fair and see the fun, which had now been going on for some time, while, as the eating and drinking booths had been constantly filled and emptied, a large portion of the visitors were already in a hilarious condition. We were passing a booth, when a man came out, who, taking off his long frieze coat, which he trailed along behind him on the ground, at the same time flourishing his shillelah, shouted out—“Who’d be after daring to put a foot on that, I should like to know?”He hadn’t gone far, when from another tent out sprang a stout fellow, holding a cudgel big enough to fell an ox with. Rapidly whirling it in the air, he exclaimed—“That’s what I’ll dare to do!” and he made a fierce blow at the head of the owner of the coat, which would have felled him in a moment, had he not been prepared to defend himself with his shillelah. A clatter of blows succeeded, when the owner of the coat fell, stunned, to the ground.At the same instant numbers of fellows in frieze coats, brogues, and battered hats, rushed forth from the various tents, flourishing their shillelahs, and shouting at the tops of their voices, some siding with the fallen man, others with the victor, till a hundred or more were ranged on either side, all battering away, as fast as they could move their arms, at each other’s heads. Now one party would scamper off as if in flight; then they would meet again,and begin cudgelling each other, apparently with the most savage fury, while the women and children stood around, the latter forming a squalling orchestra, which kept time to the blows. When matters were becoming serious, a number of the women, handing their babies to their companions, sprang into the fight, shrieking out, “Come out o’ that, Pat!”“Come out o’ that, Tim!” and dragged their husbands, or sons, or lovers, away from each other.The men mostly, however, endeavoured to release themselves by leaving their coats in the women’s hands, exclaiming—“Let me get at them, Biddy. I’ll not be held back!”The women succeeded in dragging but a very few out of the fray, and again the combatants went at it, till one after the other was stretched on the ground.At length a priest arrived, and exhorted those who were of his flock to desist; and, rushing in among them, where words were ineffectual, dealt them pretty hard blows with his own cudgel. I was inclined to go and assist his reverence, but Fitzgerald advised me to do nothing of the sort.“They treat him with some sort of respect,” he observed, “but they would treat you with none, and a broken head would be the consequence.”The tumult and uproar had made our horses restive; and as a party of the combatants, with loud shrieks and clashing of shillelahs, came rushing against mine, he began to kick and plunge, and at length bolted with me, scattering the people in his course right and left.Shouts and imprecations followed me, but though I pulled at the rein with all my might, I could not stop him. On he went, upsetting a booth of crockery and scattering the contents; he dashed in among a herd of pigs, which scampered off in all directions; when finally, attempting to leap over a tent in our course, he went through one side of it, pitching me before him, and down he came on to the middle of the table, with his hind legs under the bench, and very nearly on the top of me.I scrambled out of the way, bruised and scratched, receiving no very friendly greeting from the owner of the booth. Larry, who had seen what was going on, followed, and assisted to extricate my steed as well as me.Its knees were cut and hind legs sprained, and I felt as if every bone in my body was broken, though I managed to get on my feet, and, giving myself a shake, had the satisfaction of discovering that nothing of the sort had occurred.My brothers-in-law, coming up, paid the men for the damage done to the crockery booth and the tent my steed had upset, out of the proceeds of their sale; and I, to show that I was not daunted, remounted my horse.“Have you sufficiently enjoyed the humours of the fair, Terence?” asked Fitzgerald.“Faith, indeed I have, and sufficient to last me a mighty long time,” I answered.In one place there were a dozen fellows piled up, one upon another, struggling and kicking, with their heads cut and their noses bleeding; but few of them had lost their voices, and not one of them was mortally wounded.I had charged Larry not to join in any of the fights; and though he confessed that he had been sorely tempted, he had become too well disciplined at sea to disobey me. He came out of the fair, therefore, with a whole skin, having employed himself for a good portion of the time in amusing the boys and girls with some tunes on his fiddle. I took care to see him clear of the fair, and free from danger, before we put our horses into a trot.The whole scene gave me some idea of the state of my native country, to become still more unhappy before many more years were over, owing to the misguiding of hot-headed men, and the cruel treatment of a Government whose only notion of ruling was by stern suppression and terrorism.We rode too fast to allow of Larry playing his fiddle, so he was obliged to put it in its case, and trot after us.I felt dreadfully stiff for several days after this adventure, and but little inclined to ride, though I managed to walk about.Denis begged me to go with him to fish in a stream which ran into the Shannon three or four miles from the house. I agreed, for the sake of having his society, although no adept in the art of throwing a fly. Larry accompanied us, to carry our baskets, and the fish we intended to bring home. We started later in the day than we had intended, so that the best part of it had gone by before we could reach the stream.I was more successful than I had expected, and succeeded in hooking and landing a brace of tolerably-sized salmon,—Denis having caught twice as many. This encouraged us to go on, and the shades of evening had already begun to spread over the beautiful landscape before we thought of giving in. At length Larry came up to me.“I wouldn’t be after wishing to frighten you, Mr Terence,” he said in a whisper, “but I have just now seen something I don’t like.”“What is it, Larry?” I asked. “Is it in human shape, or with four legs, a couple of horns, and a tail?”“Don’t be laughing at it, Mr Terence. I’m thinking you don’t know where we are, or you wouldn’t be after doing that,” he whispered.“We are fishing in the stream of Corregan,” I said.“But does your honour know what happened here?” he asked, in a low voice. “It’s his ghost I’ve seen, as sure as I’m a living man, just behind yon clump of trees there hanging over the water; and I’m thinking he’ll be showing himself again if we stop here longer.”“I shall be very happy to make his acquaintance, whoever he is,” I said. “Does Mr Denis know anything about him?”“Master Denis would be only laughing at me if I were to speak to him about it,” said Larry.I called to Denis, and said that I was ready to put up my rod, as I wished to make the acquaintance of a suspicious individual who was said to be lurking about the stream. He replied that he would be ready to come as soon as he had landed a salmon he had lately hooked.“Come, Larry, tell me all about this ghost, or spirit, or whatever it was, you fancy you saw just now,” I said, while engaged in winding up my line.“Hish! your honour; we mustn’t speak loud about him, if you plaise, and I’ll tell you,” he answered. “It’s just this, your honour: while we were away in foreign parts, there was a broth of a boy,—I knew him well,—Dominic Brian. Well, Nick was one evening going home from reaping, along this very part of the stream, when what did he do but cut his own head off. Why he did it no one to this day can tell; but certain sure his body was found on the bank, with his bloody scythe beside him, but his head was gone. They say he comes every evening at the same hour to look out for his head, since he doesn’t rest quiet in his grave without it. When they told me about it I laughed, thinking it couldn’t be true; but seeing’s believing, and as sure as I’m a living man, I saw Dominic Brian this very evening with his head under his arm.”“I thought you said that he always came to look for his head?” I observed.“Shure so I did, Mr Terence; but the ghost I saw had his head tucked under his arm, just as if it had been a keg of potheen.”“Whether he has his head under his arm or has got it on at all, I’ll rout him out,” I exclaimed.“Oh, don’t, Mr Terence, don’t!” cried Larry. “No one can tell what he’ll be after doing to you. Shure it will be safer for us to be away from this as fast as our legs can carry us. Just shout to Master Denis to make haste, or we don’t know what will be happening.”

The news of peace was received perhaps with more satisfaction by the men who had no promotion to look for, and who now expected to visit their families, or enjoy themselves in spending their prize-money according to their own fashion on shore.

Parting from theThetis, we continued beating backwards and forwards for another week, when the wind shifting suddenly to the southward, we ran up to Plymouth, and at last dropped anchor in Hamoaze. We lived on board till the ship was paid off. In the meantime, I wrote home to say that Larry and I would return as soon as we could manage to get a passage to Cork. Tom Pim was uncertain of the whereabouts of his family, so he also waited till he could hear from them. Nettleship had told us that his mother and sister lived near Plymouth, and he got leave to run over and see them.

“It won’t be a good thing for you youngsters to be knocking about this place by yourselves,” he said, on his returning; “and so, having told my mother this, she has invited both of you, with Larry, to come up and stay with us till you can go home. You’ll be much better off than in lodgings, or stopping at an inn, even though you may find it somewhat dull.”

Tom at once accepted the invitation, and persuaded me to do so, though I wanted to see some of the fun of Plymouth, which my other shipmates had talked about. I won’t describe the scenes which took place on board,—the noise and uproar,—the characters of all descriptions who crowded the ship, eager to take possession of the sailors, or rather of the money which lined their pockets. I saw very much the contrary of fun in it. We had then a midshipman’s paying-off dinner on shore, to which some of the ward-room officers were invited. The wine flowed freely. Healths were drunk and sentiments given, and in a short time most of the party became very uproarious, those who were sober enough on shore being as bad as the rest.

“Come, Paddy,” said Nettleship, “we have to get home to my mother’s house to-night, and I can’t introduce you, remember, if you’re not quite yourself.”

Tom Pim was ready.

“So am I,” I said. “I’ll not take another drop.”

Our intended departure being discovered, we were assailed with hoots, and shouts, and groans.

“Never mind them,” said Nettleship. “If we were to be moved by that sort of stuff, those very fellows would be the first to laugh at us another day.”

On seeing us gaining the door, several jumped up, intending to bring us back.

“Run for it, Paddy; run, Tom,” cried Nettleship. “I’ll guard your retreat. They’ll not stop me.”

“Hands off,” he shouted, as Grumpus and some others attempted to seize him. “I have made up my mind to go, and go I will, though every one in the room were to jump up and try to bar my passage.”

Tom and I got safe into the street, where we were joined by Larry, who had been waiting for us; and Nettleship came up, saying that he had got clear off, at the cost of flooring two or three of his assailants.

“Not a satisfactory way of parting from old friends,” he said, “but the only one which circumstances would permit.”

We at once set off, walking briskly, to get as soon as possible away from the scene of our shipmates’ revels. We at length reached a pretty little cottage, a short way out of Plymouth, where Mrs Nettleship and her daughter received us in the kindest manner possible. I was struck by the appearance of the two ladies, so nicely dressed, and quiet in their manners, while the house seemed wonderfully neat and fresh, greatly differing from the appearance of Ballinahone. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been in an English house. When Nettleship talked of his mother’s cottage, I had expected to see something like the residence of an Irish squireen. Both inside and out the house was the same,—the garden full of sweetly-scented flowers, the gravel walks without a weed in them, and the hedges carefully trimmed. Then when Tom and I were shown to the room we were to occupy, I was struck by the white dimity hangings to the beds, the fresh curtains and blinds, the little grate polished to perfection, and a bouquet of flowers on the dressing-table. Tom was not so impressed as I was, though he said it reminded him of his own home. Miss Fanny was considerably younger than Nettleship, a fair-haired, blue-eyed, sweetly-smiling, modest-looking girl, who treated Tom and me as if we were her brothers.

Nettleship and Tom accompanied me into Plymouth each morning, that I might learn if any vessel was sailing for Cork, and thus be saved the journey to Bristol, with which place and Ireland, as there was a considerable amount of trade carried on, I was told that I should have no difficulty in obtaining a vessel across. I was so happy where I was, however, that I was less in a hurry than might have been supposed. I had no want of funds for the purpose, for I had received my pay; and a good share of prize-money for the vessels we had captured was also due to me, though, as Nettleship told me, I must not count upon getting that in a hurry.

At last, one morning, on going to a shipbroker, who had promised to let me know of any vessel putting into Plymouth on her way to Cork, he told me that one had just arrived, and would sail again in a few hours. I at once went on board theNancyschooner, and engaged a passage for Larry and myself, and then hurried back to wish Mrs Nettleship and her daughter good-bye. My old shipmates returned with me, and Larry carried our few traps over his shoulder, as I had not possessed a chest since mine was lost in theLiffy.

“Good-bye, Paddy, old fellow,” cried Nettleship. “If I get appointed to a ship I’ll let you know, and you must exert your interest to join her; and I hope Tom also will find his way aboard. We have been four years together without so much as a shadow of a quarrel; and if we were to spend another four years in each other’s company, I’m sure it would be the same.”

Tom merely wrung my hand; his heart was too full to speak.

“Good-bye, Mr Pim,” said Larry, as the schooner’s boat was waiting for us at the quay. “Your honour saved my life, and I would have been after saving yours, if I had had the chance, a dozen times over.”

“You saved it once, at least, Larry, when you helped to get me out of the water as the boat was leaving theCerberusand I hope that we may be again together, to give you another chance.”

“There’s nothing I’d like better. May Heaven’s blessing go with your honour,” said Larry, as Tom held out his hand and shook his warmly.

Our friends stood on the shore as we pulled across the Catwater to the schooner, which lay at the entrance. Directly we were on board she got under weigh, and with a fair breeze we stood down Plymouth Sound. She was a terribly slow sailer, and we had a much longer passage to Cork than I had expected. We had no longer any fear of being snapped up by a privateer, but, seeing her style of sailing, I hoped that we should not be caught in a gale on a lee shore, or we should have run a great chance of being wrecked.

Larry made friends with all on board, keeping them alive with his fiddle, which he was excessively proud of having saved through so many and various dangers.

“Shure, I wouldn’t change it for all the gold in theVille de Paris, if it could be fished up from the bottom of the say,” he exclaimed, “for that couldn’t cheer up the hearts of my shipmates as my old fiddle can be doing. Won’t I be after setting them toeing and heeling it when we get back to Ballinahone!”

At length our eyes were rejoiced by a sight of the entrance to Cork Harbour, and the wind being fair, we at once ran up to Passage, where I engaged a boat to take us to Cork. As we had no luggage except what Larry could carry, and he wouldn’t let me lift an article, we proceeded at once to the inn at which my uncle and I had put up.

I was just about to enter through the doorway, when I saw a tall figure standing before me, not older by a wrinkle than when I, a stripling, had last seen him, standing on the quay waving me a farewell; his hat and coat, the curl of his wig, every article of dress, was the same. For a moment he looked at me as if I were a stranger; then, recognising my features, though in height and breadth I was so changed, he stretched out his arms, exclaiming—

“Terence, my nephew! Is it you, indeed?” and embracing me, his feelings overcame him, and he could say no more for some minutes. “I came on the chance of meeting you, though I knew not when you would arrive,” he said at length. “I have been waiting day after day, every hour in expectation of seeing you; but faith, when my eyes first fell on your figure I forgot the change that four years would have produced in you, and took you for a stranger. And you have brought back Larry safe from the wars? Glad to see you, boy. I thought you would be taking care of the young master.”

“Faith, your honour, I should have been mighty grieved at myself if I hadn’t done the best I could; and it’s a pleasure to hand him back to you, major, without a wound or a scratch, though the round shot and bullets have been flying about pretty quickly round him; and we’ve escaped from fire and hurricane, and shipwrecks and earthquakes, and a mighty lot of other things besides.”

“And you, uncle, don’t look a day older than when I went away,” I said.

“You must not trust too much to appearances, Terence,” he answered, shaking his head. “The enemy has been sapping the foundations, though he has not as yet taken the fortress. I have a good many things to try me. Matters at home are not in a satisfactory state.”

“It was about them all I was going to ask, uncle,” I said. “How are my father and mother, the girls and the boys?”

“Your mother is not so strong as she was, though she bears up bravely; but your poor father has greatly changed. Though he has given up his claret, he still sticks to his potations of rum shrub and whisky punch, which are rapidly bringing him to his grave, though he won’t believe it Kathleen and Nora are married; Kathleen to Eustace Fitzgerald, and Nora to Tim Daley. I would rather they had found steadier husbands, but they’ll bring the boys into order, I hope, in time. Your brother Maurice got his commission soon after you left home, and, having seen some service in America, has lately returned home on leave. I was in hopes that he would have fallen in with you. Denis stops at home to help me mind the house and keep things in order. The rest have grown into strapping lads, and it’s time to be sending them out into the world to seek their fortunes. The Fitzgeralds and the Daleys are staying at the Castle, and they’ll be mightily pleased to see you. We will start to-morrow morning at daylight. I brought horses for you and Larry, with Tim Sweeney to look after them, for I suppose that Larry will scarcely know the head from the tail of one by this time.”

“Och, your honour, I’ll soon be after remembering which is which when I see the bastes again, though I haven’t crossed a horse’s back since I left,” said Larry, in answer to my uncle’s remark.

“I’ll trust you for that, my lad,” said the major; “and now, Terence, we will go in and order supper, and while it’s coming, you shall give me an account of your adventures.”

I was soon seated before the fire, briefly describing what I had gone through, in as clear a way as I could. My uncle was deeply interested, and constantly stopped me to put questions, when he did not clearly understand my descriptions. Even when we were at supper he made me talk on, appearing scarcely to think about what he was eating, so eager was he to listen to me. He was much struck on hearing of Dan Hoolan’s fate.

“I can’t say the country is much the quieter, for unfortunately there are too many boys of the same character to take his place,” he remarked, “but I hope we shall reach Ballinahone without meeting any of them.”

At last, seeing that I was getting sleepy, he advised me to turn in, to be ready to start in the morning.

Larry in the meantime had been well taken care of by Tim Sweeney,—indeed, too much taken care of; for when he came into my room to see if I wanted anything, he stood balancing himself with difficulty, and talking away, until I was obliged to turn him out and bid him go to bed as fast as he could.

The next morning we were on the road, the major sitting his horse as firmly as ever; and indeed, except that we were going in an opposite direction, I might have fancied, until I looked at Larry and felt the change that had come over myself, that we were but continuing our journey of four years back.

Having plenty to talk about, I rode alongside my uncle, Larry and Tim following us, the latter listening with eager ears to the wonderful accounts Larry was giving him. We pushed on as fast as our horses would carry us, but as the roads were none of the best, our progress was much slower than I liked.

The afternoon of the second day my uncle proposed that, instead of stopping at the village through which we were then passing, we should push on to a little roadside inn, that we might be so much the further on our way next morning. It was almost dark when we arrived, but the landlord, Pat Casey, who knew my uncle well, received us warmly, promising to give us all the accommodation we could desire, and a supper and breakfast not to be despised. Pat at once fulfilled his promise by placing some rashers of bacon and fresh eggs, and actually a white loaf, which with several others he said he had received that morning, on the table.

“I would be after having some tay for breakfast, but I wouldn’t dream of giving it to your honours for supper,” he said, as he placed instead on the table a bottle of the cratur, from which, he observed with a wink, the revenue had not in any way benefited, while a bowl of smoking hot potatoes formed the chief dish of the feast. I remember doing good justice to it, and was not sorry when my uncle proposed that we should retire to our downy couches. Unpretending as was the outside of the inn, they were far superior to what I should have expected; mine was a feather bed to which many hundreds of geese must have contributed, while the curtains were of silk, faded and patched, to be sure, but showing that they had come from some grand mansion. I slept like a top, till my uncle roused me up in the morning with the announcement that breakfast was nearly ready. To that I was prepared to do more ample justice than I did to the supper.

“Come, Terence, let us take our seats,” said my uncle. “Biddy has just placed the things on the table, and they will be getting cold.”

The breakfast looked tempting. There was a pile of buttered toast, plenty of new-laid eggs, a beautiful griskin broiled to perfection, and water boiling on the hot turf fire in a saucepan. The teapot having taken to leaking, as Biddy said, she had made the tea in the potheen jug. I was just about to follow my uncle’s example, when there came a rap at the outside door of the paved parlour in which we were sitting.

“Come in,” said my uncle.

No one answered.

“Go and see who it is, Terence; maybe it’s some modest fellow who doesn’t like to open the door.”

No sooner had I lifted the latch than I felt a heavy shove. The door flew open, and before I could get out of the way, in rushed a huge sow, knocking me over in a moment; and while I was kicking my heels in the air, over my body came nearly a dozen young pigs, their amiable mother making her way round the room, grunting, snorting, and catching the air through her enormous proboscis.

“Jump up, Terence! jump up, or she’ll be at you!” said my uncle, coming to my assistance; but the sow was too rapid in her movements, and, ere he could reach me, charged furiously at his legs. Fortunately he escaped her by springing with wonderful agility out of her way, and, mounting on a chair, got up on the top of a chest of drawers, which formed a convenient place of retreat. In the meantime I got on my legs, and, seeing the savage sow was inclined to attack me, I sprang on to the chest of drawers, the only safe place I could discover. Here we sat, regularly besieged, for our weapons of offence and defence had been left on the table. The sow, seeming to know the advantage she had gained, kept eyeing us savagely. Indeed, unless we had thought it worth while to run the risk of an attack from her, we saw that we must make up our minds to remain where we were. The louder we shouted for help, the more enraged the sow became, thirsting, as we had reason to believe, for our blood. She was the lankiest, the tallest, and grisliest beast I ever saw; her back, arching higher than a donkey’s, resembled a rustic bridge; her loose-flapping ears nearly hid her small sunken, fiery eyes, their ends just covering one half of her mouth, which divided her head, as it were, into an upper and under storey, clearly showing that she had the means of taking a huge bite out of our legs, could she get at them. Her tusks, like those of a boar, projected from under her nostrils, and the ring and hook in her nose was a formidable weapon of offence, though intended to prevent her from digging up the ground. Her promising family were not little pigs, but had nearly attained the age when they would be turned out to shift for themselves, regular hobbledehoys of swinehood.

After rampaging round the room, sniffing the air, and vainly attempting to get at us, the sow ran under the table, which she unceremoniously upset, when, with a peculiar grunt summoning her progeny to the feast, she and they immediately commenced gobbling up our viands. Seeing this, I jumped down, intending to drive her away, but scarcely had I reached the ground when she made so savage a rush at me that I was glad to regain my former position.

“This is too bad,” cried the major; and, slipping off the drawers, he seized a chair, with the intention of belabouring our assailant, when just at that moment one of the young pigs, of an inquisitive disposition, hearing the bubbling water on the fire, attempting to look into the pot, brought the scalding contents down upon itself. On feeling its tender bristles getting loose, it set up the most terrific cries, louder even than the most obstinate of its race when the butcher is making preparations for manufacturing it into corned pork. The sow, attributing the cries of her darling to some torture inflicted by us, rushed to the drawers, making several savage attempts to rear up against them so that she could seize us by the legs. Every moment we expected to be caught hold of by the hook in her nose, when we should have inevitably been brought down. In vain we kicked and stamped at her to drive her off, while we shouted loudly for assistance.

As it turned out, Larry and Tim were in the stables attending to the horses, while the landlord and his family, having performed, as they supposed, all their required duties in attending on us, had gone to the potato garden. Not for some minutes did Pat hear our voices, and then in he rushed, with astonishment depicted on his countenance. Seizing a stick, he began belabouring the sow, bestowing on her epithets numberless and profuse.

“Och! the curse of Crummell light on you for a greedy old sow as ye are,” he exclaimed, whacking away at the creature, who didn’t care for his blows, though she dared not attack him. At length Tim and Larry came in, and, seizing the sow by the tail, attempted to drag her out; she, supposing that they wanted her to go into the room, in the usual swinish spirit of contradiction turned to snap at their legs, and, followed by her hopeful progeny, bolted out of the door. My uncle and I burst into fits of laughter, though in reality it was no laughing business as far as our breakfast was concerned. Pat expressed his fear that there was not another morsel of food in the house; however, Biddy and her assistant, coming in from the potato garden, soon set matters to rights, and put some water on to boil, hunted up some fresh eggs, and produced another loaf. We were too hungry to let them toast and butter it, however. We made a very good breakfast after all, our appetites being sharpened by the exercise of our lungs, not to speak of the alarm we had been in. The occurrence delayed our departure till a later hour than we intended, and we pushed on to try and make up for lost time.

I confess that I occasionally looked round, half expecting to see some of Dan Hoolan’s successors come out from behind the rocks or bushes, and demand our valuables; but if any were lying in wait in the neighbourhood, they probably thought four well-armed men too formidable to be assailed, and we proceeded towards our journey’s end without molestation. I had at first felt a sort of callousness about reaching home, and should have been indifferent had any delay occurred; but as I approached Castle Ballinahone I became more and more eager to be there, and could scarcely restrain my feelings when I saw the towers rising beyond the trees in the distance, and the Shannon shining brightly in the rays of the setting sun. My uncle and I gave our horses the rein, and our two attendants clattered after us. The gate of the park was open, and as we dashed up the avenue at full speed, the sounds of our horses’ hoofs attracted the attention of the inmates of the castle. The door was thrown open, and my mother and sisters, and Maurice and Denis and my two brothers-in-law, appeared on the steps, down which the younger boys came springing towards us; while from the servants’ wing out rushed a whole posse of men and girls and dogs,—tumbling over each other, the dogs barking, the girls shrieking, and the men shouting with delight, as they surrounded Larry, and half pulled him off his horse. Dismounting, I sprang up the steps into my mother’s arms, where she held me for some time before she was willing to let me go. I received a similar welcome from my sisters. “You see I have brought him back safe after all,” said the major, benignantly smiling. My hands were next seized by my brothers and brothers-in-law, who wrung their fingers after receiving the grips which I unconsciously bestowed upon them.

“And my father?” I asked, not seeing him.

“He is in the parlour,” answered my mother in an altered tone; and she led me in. He was seated in his wheelchair, a look of dull imbecility on his countenance.

“What! are you Terence?” he asked in a quavering tone. “Come back from the wars, eh? I suppose you are Terence, though I shouldn’t have known you. We will drink your health, though, at supper in whisky punch, if he’ll let me have it, for we can’t afford claret now,—at least so he says, and he knows better than I do.”

I was much pained, but tried to conceal my feelings from my mother, though my father’s changed appearance haunted me, and prevented me from being as happy as otherwise would have been the case. His state had been that of many of his neighbours, whom he was fond of boasting he had seen under the sod,—once fine intelligent men, who might have lived out their natural course of years in health and happiness, with everything to make their lives pleasant, had it not been for the drinking habits so general among their class. After the greetings with my family were over, I went into the servants’ hall to have a talk with the old domestics. Larry was in the height of his glory, just getting out his fiddle to give them a tune in honour of our return. They all crowded round me, each eager to grasp my hand, and congratulate me on having escaped the dangers of the wars. I felt myself more of a hero than I had ever done before. The moment I retired I heard Larry’s fiddle going, and the boys and girls beginning to make use of their feet, for it was impossible to keep them quiet while such notes sounded in their ears. After a visit to my chamber, which had long been prepared for me, accompanied by Denis, who wanted to hear all I had got to tell him, I returned to the drawing-room. I there found the family assembled, fully as anxious as my brother to have a narrative of my adventures. My mother, taking my hand, which she held in hers, led me to the sofa, and fondly looked in my face as I described the battles I had been engaged in and the shipwrecks I had encountered. My uncle nodded approvingly as I described the actions in which I had taken a prominent part. My poor father, who had been wheeled into the room, stared with lack-lustre eyes, evidently only comprehending a portion of what I said. The rest of the family occasionally uttered exclamations of surprise and astonishment, now and then putting questions to help me along, when I stopped for want of breath or to recollect myself. I had never in my life talked so much at a stretch.

At last we went in to supper. My poor father, lifting his glass with trembling hands to his lips, drank my health. My brothers-in-law, Maurice and Denis, followed his example. The major kindly nodded.

“You have done well, Terence, and I’m proud of you,” he exclaimed; “and though the war is over, I hope you’ll still find means to climb up the rattlings, as you say at sea.”

Several neighbours looked in, hearing of my arrival, to congratulate me and my family. The whisky-toddy flowed fast. I as usual drank but little; in truth, I had no taste for the stuff, though probably it would have grown upon me, as it does upon others.

My uncle looked at me approvingly. “I’m glad to see, Terence,” he said, “that you possess one of the qualities of a good officer, and that even when off duty you retain the habit of sobriety.”

My brothers-in-law glanced at each other and laughed, but took care that the major should not observe them. The guests took no notice of my uncle’s remark, evidently intending to make the whisky punch flow freely, the great object for which they had come. Toasts and sentiments, according to the fashion of the day, were given. My father tried to sing one of his old songs, but soon broke down. Several of the other gentlemen, however, took up his stave, and soon began to be uproarious. My mother on this got up, and beckoned to my sisters to follow her. They whispered to their husbands, who, however, only nodded and laughed. My uncle’s object was rather to guide than to suppress the hilarity, and when he observed anything like a dispute arising, he put in a word or two nipping it in the bud in a calm, determined way, to soothe irritated feelings. In a short time Dan Bourke came in, and, putting his hands on the back of my father’s chair, said, “By your leave, gentlemen, I’m come to wheel the master away;” and without more ado, though my poor father stretched out his hand trying to grasp his glass, before he could reach it he was at a distance from the table. It was a melancholy spectacle, and I almost burst into tears as I saw him moving his arms like a child, and trying to kick out with his gouty feet. As Dan wheeled him round towards the door, he shouted and cried, “Just let me have one glass more, Dan, only one; that can’t be after doing me harm.”

One of the guests exclaimed, “Can’t you be leaving the master alone, and let him have a glass to comfort his soul? Just one glass can make no matter of difference.”

But Dan was obdurate, and, looking over his shoulder, he said, “It’s the orders of the mistress, and they’re to be obeyed.”

Had the major’s eye not been upon him, I don’t know how Dan would have behaved, but without another word he wheeled my poor father out of the room, and closed the door behind him. It was almost the last time he appeared at table. His state made a deep and lasting impression on me.

As soon as he was gone, the guests went on talking and singing as before, and would probably have kept up their revels till a late hour, had not my uncle reminded them that he and I had just come off a long journey.

“As I’ve been playing the part of host, I can’t be so rude as to leave you at table, gentlemen.”

The hint, as he intended it to be, was too broad not to be taken, and those whose brains had still some sense left in them rose to take their departure, hoisting the others in a friendly way out of their seats, when arm-in-arm they staggered to the door.

“The ladies have retired, so you need not stop to pay your farewell respects to them,” said my uncle; and he told Dan Bourke, who was in the hall, to order the gossoons to bring round the gentlemen’s horses. Some mounted without difficulty, but others had to be helped up on their steeds by my brothers-in-law and Denis. I thought they would have tumbled off.

“They’ll be all to rights when once in their saddles,” said Denis. “They’re accustomed to ride home in that state. To be shure, one of them now and then dislocates his neck or breaks his head, but that’s a trifle. It’s too common a way for an Irish gentleman to end his mortal career for anything to be thought of it.”

“I hope, Denis, that you’ll not be after following their example,” I remarked.

“Faith, the major keeps me in too strict order for that at present,” he said; “I don’t know what I should do if I hadn’t his eye upon me, but I’ll acknowledge I have no wish to become a brute beast, as some of them are.”

My first day at home was over. I felt less happy than I had expected. My father’s melancholy condition,—my mother’s sorrow, which she in vain tried to conceal,—and the fallen fortunes of the family, damped my spirits. My brothers-in-law were fine young fellows, but not altogether what I liked; and my sisters were graver than they used to be. Everything about the house looked in a dilapidated condition. My mother and sisters wore old dresses; the furniture was faded; the servants, if not ragged, were but poorly habited. Had it not been for the major, the family, I suspect, would long ere this have been turned out of house and home. I must not spend much time in describing my life at Castle Ballinahone. I soon got tired of it, and began to wish myself at sea again, for I knew that my only chance of promotion was to keep afloat. I told the major. He said that he perfectly agreed with me, and that he would at once write to Captain Macnamara, who was in London, and to two or three other friends, and ask them to try and get me appointed to a ship without delay. After I had been at home a few days, Fitzgerald and Daley invited me to accompany them to the fair at Mullyspeleen, where they wished to dispose of some horses they had bred on my father’s property. Larry begged that he might come, just to see the fun. I observed, as he mounted, that he had strapped his fiddle-case on his back. My journey had made me as much at home as ever on horseback, so that I was enabled to keep up with my brothers. The distance we had to go was about fifteen miles, through beautiful country, with a range of hills in the distance, below which is situated the old castle of Tullinhoe, once the seat of a powerful family, many of the descendants of whom were now probably selling pigs at the fair. We met people wending their way towards the place of meeting, some on foot, some on horseback, others in cars and carts of primitive construction, all grinning and shouting in high glee at the thoughts of the fun to be enjoyed. What that fun was we were soon to witness. Not only were there men, but women and children, down to small babies in arms,—the men with frieze coats, with shillelahs in hands, the women in cloaks and hoods, and caps under them. Others had gaily-coloured handkerchiefs tied over their heads. As we got near the fair the crowd increased, till we sometimes had a difficulty in making our way among the people. As we pushed them aside, however, they were in no way offended, but good-humouredly saluted us with jokes of all sorts. There were tents and booths of various descriptions, the most common among them being formed of wattles,—that is, young saplings cut from some neighbouring estate, the thick ends stuck in the ground some distance apart, and the thin ends bent down till they met, when they were fastened together with haybands. Some twenty or thirty of such arches having been formed, and further secured by a long pole at the top, were covered over with blankets, sheets, and quilts, borrowed from the nearest cottages, occasionally eked out with petticoats and cloaks of varied hue; the quilts, being of every variety of pattern, and of all the colours of the rainbow, had a very gay appearance. The tables were composed of doors carried off from farm buildings and cottages, elevated on hillocks of clay dug from underneath. The benches on either side generally consisted of doors cut longitudinally in two or three parts, and to be nailed together again when done with. Outside several of the tents were huge turf fires, on which pots were boiling, some containing lumps of salt beef and cabbage, while fried herrings were sending up a fragrant odour attractive to hungry visitors. There were cold viands also displayed, to tempt those disposed for a snack, rounds or rumps of beef, hams, bread and cheese, and whisky enough to make every soul in the fair moderately drunk if equally divided. Here and there were booths containing toys and trinkets; but the great object of the fair was for the sale of horses, cows, pigs, and poultry. Besides these were the more pretentious booths of the frieze merchants, who were likely to run a good trade to supply the place of the garments which would be torn into shreds before the fair was over. In other booths, earthenware, knives, and agricultural implements were to be procured. My brothers-in-law having disposed of their horses at a good price,—especially good to them, as the animals had cost them nothing since they were foals,—we agreed to ride round the fair and see the fun, which had now been going on for some time, while, as the eating and drinking booths had been constantly filled and emptied, a large portion of the visitors were already in a hilarious condition. We were passing a booth, when a man came out, who, taking off his long frieze coat, which he trailed along behind him on the ground, at the same time flourishing his shillelah, shouted out—

“Who’d be after daring to put a foot on that, I should like to know?”

He hadn’t gone far, when from another tent out sprang a stout fellow, holding a cudgel big enough to fell an ox with. Rapidly whirling it in the air, he exclaimed—

“That’s what I’ll dare to do!” and he made a fierce blow at the head of the owner of the coat, which would have felled him in a moment, had he not been prepared to defend himself with his shillelah. A clatter of blows succeeded, when the owner of the coat fell, stunned, to the ground.

At the same instant numbers of fellows in frieze coats, brogues, and battered hats, rushed forth from the various tents, flourishing their shillelahs, and shouting at the tops of their voices, some siding with the fallen man, others with the victor, till a hundred or more were ranged on either side, all battering away, as fast as they could move their arms, at each other’s heads. Now one party would scamper off as if in flight; then they would meet again,and begin cudgelling each other, apparently with the most savage fury, while the women and children stood around, the latter forming a squalling orchestra, which kept time to the blows. When matters were becoming serious, a number of the women, handing their babies to their companions, sprang into the fight, shrieking out, “Come out o’ that, Pat!”

“Come out o’ that, Tim!” and dragged their husbands, or sons, or lovers, away from each other.

The men mostly, however, endeavoured to release themselves by leaving their coats in the women’s hands, exclaiming—

“Let me get at them, Biddy. I’ll not be held back!”

The women succeeded in dragging but a very few out of the fray, and again the combatants went at it, till one after the other was stretched on the ground.

At length a priest arrived, and exhorted those who were of his flock to desist; and, rushing in among them, where words were ineffectual, dealt them pretty hard blows with his own cudgel. I was inclined to go and assist his reverence, but Fitzgerald advised me to do nothing of the sort.

“They treat him with some sort of respect,” he observed, “but they would treat you with none, and a broken head would be the consequence.”

The tumult and uproar had made our horses restive; and as a party of the combatants, with loud shrieks and clashing of shillelahs, came rushing against mine, he began to kick and plunge, and at length bolted with me, scattering the people in his course right and left.

Shouts and imprecations followed me, but though I pulled at the rein with all my might, I could not stop him. On he went, upsetting a booth of crockery and scattering the contents; he dashed in among a herd of pigs, which scampered off in all directions; when finally, attempting to leap over a tent in our course, he went through one side of it, pitching me before him, and down he came on to the middle of the table, with his hind legs under the bench, and very nearly on the top of me.

I scrambled out of the way, bruised and scratched, receiving no very friendly greeting from the owner of the booth. Larry, who had seen what was going on, followed, and assisted to extricate my steed as well as me.

Its knees were cut and hind legs sprained, and I felt as if every bone in my body was broken, though I managed to get on my feet, and, giving myself a shake, had the satisfaction of discovering that nothing of the sort had occurred.

My brothers-in-law, coming up, paid the men for the damage done to the crockery booth and the tent my steed had upset, out of the proceeds of their sale; and I, to show that I was not daunted, remounted my horse.

“Have you sufficiently enjoyed the humours of the fair, Terence?” asked Fitzgerald.

“Faith, indeed I have, and sufficient to last me a mighty long time,” I answered.

In one place there were a dozen fellows piled up, one upon another, struggling and kicking, with their heads cut and their noses bleeding; but few of them had lost their voices, and not one of them was mortally wounded.

I had charged Larry not to join in any of the fights; and though he confessed that he had been sorely tempted, he had become too well disciplined at sea to disobey me. He came out of the fair, therefore, with a whole skin, having employed himself for a good portion of the time in amusing the boys and girls with some tunes on his fiddle. I took care to see him clear of the fair, and free from danger, before we put our horses into a trot.

The whole scene gave me some idea of the state of my native country, to become still more unhappy before many more years were over, owing to the misguiding of hot-headed men, and the cruel treatment of a Government whose only notion of ruling was by stern suppression and terrorism.

We rode too fast to allow of Larry playing his fiddle, so he was obliged to put it in its case, and trot after us.

I felt dreadfully stiff for several days after this adventure, and but little inclined to ride, though I managed to walk about.

Denis begged me to go with him to fish in a stream which ran into the Shannon three or four miles from the house. I agreed, for the sake of having his society, although no adept in the art of throwing a fly. Larry accompanied us, to carry our baskets, and the fish we intended to bring home. We started later in the day than we had intended, so that the best part of it had gone by before we could reach the stream.

I was more successful than I had expected, and succeeded in hooking and landing a brace of tolerably-sized salmon,—Denis having caught twice as many. This encouraged us to go on, and the shades of evening had already begun to spread over the beautiful landscape before we thought of giving in. At length Larry came up to me.

“I wouldn’t be after wishing to frighten you, Mr Terence,” he said in a whisper, “but I have just now seen something I don’t like.”

“What is it, Larry?” I asked. “Is it in human shape, or with four legs, a couple of horns, and a tail?”

“Don’t be laughing at it, Mr Terence. I’m thinking you don’t know where we are, or you wouldn’t be after doing that,” he whispered.

“We are fishing in the stream of Corregan,” I said.

“But does your honour know what happened here?” he asked, in a low voice. “It’s his ghost I’ve seen, as sure as I’m a living man, just behind yon clump of trees there hanging over the water; and I’m thinking he’ll be showing himself again if we stop here longer.”

“I shall be very happy to make his acquaintance, whoever he is,” I said. “Does Mr Denis know anything about him?”

“Master Denis would be only laughing at me if I were to speak to him about it,” said Larry.

I called to Denis, and said that I was ready to put up my rod, as I wished to make the acquaintance of a suspicious individual who was said to be lurking about the stream. He replied that he would be ready to come as soon as he had landed a salmon he had lately hooked.

“Come, Larry, tell me all about this ghost, or spirit, or whatever it was, you fancy you saw just now,” I said, while engaged in winding up my line.

“Hish! your honour; we mustn’t speak loud about him, if you plaise, and I’ll tell you,” he answered. “It’s just this, your honour: while we were away in foreign parts, there was a broth of a boy,—I knew him well,—Dominic Brian. Well, Nick was one evening going home from reaping, along this very part of the stream, when what did he do but cut his own head off. Why he did it no one to this day can tell; but certain sure his body was found on the bank, with his bloody scythe beside him, but his head was gone. They say he comes every evening at the same hour to look out for his head, since he doesn’t rest quiet in his grave without it. When they told me about it I laughed, thinking it couldn’t be true; but seeing’s believing, and as sure as I’m a living man, I saw Dominic Brian this very evening with his head under his arm.”

“I thought you said that he always came to look for his head?” I observed.

“Shure so I did, Mr Terence; but the ghost I saw had his head tucked under his arm, just as if it had been a keg of potheen.”

“Whether he has his head under his arm or has got it on at all, I’ll rout him out,” I exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t, Mr Terence, don’t!” cried Larry. “No one can tell what he’ll be after doing to you. Shure it will be safer for us to be away from this as fast as our legs can carry us. Just shout to Master Denis to make haste, or we don’t know what will be happening.”

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