CHAPTER XVIII

BACK AGAIN TO CORK

Weleft Wexford the next morning in a misty rain.

“I am glad I put a rain-coat on my aeroplane,” said Mike as the rain came down in a regular pour.

We did not enjoy that morning’s sail from Wexford to Waterford. In an hour’s time we saw Waterford arise out of the mist. Like Wexford, Waterford is an important seaport, built on the banks of the Suir river. The name of this beautiful river is a vile slander. Much agricultural produce, and bacon and live stock are shipped from here to England.

The city was able to defend itself against Cromwell in 1649, and was the only place in Ireland that did not fall before the terrible charge of Cromwell’s Ironsides.

I was able to see, though indistinctly, the Cathedral, where Strongbow, Ireland’s first English master, lies buried. This arch-enemy of Ireland is surely well buried as he has also a tomb in Dublin. Strongbow married the daughter of Dermot McMurragh on the battle field near Waterford where he defeated the Irish.

Lord Roberts has a home in Waterford, and it was here he grew up and developed those fighting qualities which have made him England’s foremost soldier today.

Waterford was founded by the Danes in the ninth century. The antique iron bridge across the river, and the docks, a mile long, are notable features of the modern city.

There is one interesting relic of the Danish period still standing near the docks. It is a large round tower, about 50 feet high, which was built by Reginald, the Dane, in 1003. At present it is a police cell.

We left Waterford with the rain still falling, and went up along the banks of the Suir to Portlaw, a small manufacturing town. Near here we flew over Curraghmore, the stately mansion of the Marquis of Waterford. The desmesne covers 5000 acres, and is a beautiful natural park, with many slopes, and dells. There is an ancient castle beside the modern mansion.

In this part of Ireland Sir Walter Raleigh and Edmund Spencer lived. We soon saw Youghal, on the coast, where Raleigh lived, and where his old house still stands.

Edmund Spencer was a close friend of Raleigh’s. He was an English poet but became associated with Ireland because he wrote the “Fairy Queen in the Emerald Isle” in 1589 and 1590. He would be more popular in Ireland today only, unfortunately, the Maiden Queen Elizabeth gave him a present of some 3028 acres of Irish land. The Queen’s title to this piece of real estate was not considered very good by the Irish, and they have never forgiven Spencer for accepting it.

Sir Walter Raleigh also accepted a big farm of over 40,000 acres in Ireland from this same Maiden Queen, whose real estate transactions in Ireland were considerable, but Raleigh has been partly forgiven because he gave Ireland the potato.

It was nearly nine when we whizzed over Youghal, and circled around it twice. We dipped, as we flew over the harbor, until we were within thirty feet of the water, and aroused excited cheering from the crowd watching us on the docks, as we turned and rose high again over the city.

I discovered Myrtle Lodge, Raleigh’s old home in Youghal. It was ivy clad, and well preserved, and the grounds around it neatly kept. I was delighted to see the garden of Myrtle Lodge. It is almost as sacred to the Irishman as the Garden of Eden. In this garden in 1586 Sir Walter Raleigh planted the first potato ever grown in the Emerald Isle. He brought the seed from the West Indies, where they had been carried by the Spanish from Peru, the potato’s native home.

It was a century after this before the sterling qualities of the potato were appreciated fully, but now that useful tuber is adopted as Ireland’s own darling vegetable.

Sir Walter Raleigh was quite a gardener, as well as having a reputation as a soldier, an author, a courtier, an explorer, a statesman, and a lover. In some respects he was the Theodore Roosevelt of his age. Doubtlesshe inherited his genius for gardening from his first parent, Adam. He brought the seed of the cherry from the Azores, and planted the first cherry tree in this famous garden, as it is said all the cherries in the United Kingdom can trace their descent back to Youghal.

We were now only thirty miles from Cork. As we left Youghal, and the landing place of the potato in Ireland, the heavy clouds suddenly made up their minds to decamp. They at once scattered in all directions, and in fifteen minutes the sun was shining just as though it had been with us all morning. Then it was that it occurred to us that the sudden changes of Irish weather were not always a disadvantage. If it rains easy, it also clears away easy.

I was glad to see the fields of Cork again. We followed the railroad line most of the way from Youghal to Cork. We met a train again on this road, and had another noisy greeting from the engine and passenger coaches.

As we neared Cork, and saw the magnificent Cork Harbor, stretching down to Queenstown, I turned to Mike and said:

“Mike, Ireland is a great country, and you and I have seen it the last few days as nobody has ever seen it before. The aeroplane will give to Ireland a new fame throughout the world.”

“We have had a big time,” said Mike simply, but I knew he was the happiest man on earth, or rather in the air.

As we were circling around preparatory to making a landing, I repeated enthusiastically the words of an Irish poet:

“O Ireland, isn’t it grand you look:Like a bride in her rich adornin’And with all the pent-up love of my heart,I bid you the top o’ the mornin’.”

“O Ireland, isn’t it grand you look:

Like a bride in her rich adornin’

And with all the pent-up love of my heart,

I bid you the top o’ the mornin’.”

We landed at 10:00 o’clock on the very field we had left only a few days before.

If Columbus, when he set foot on America, felt any bigger than we did as we stepped out of our aeroplane at Cork that day, he must have felt bigger than Goliath.

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