All men love to gain their ends; most men are contented with the
shortest road to them, while others like by-paths. Some carry an innate
love of triumph to a pitch of epicurism, and are not content unless the
triumph be achieved in a certain way, making collateral passions
accessories before or after the fact; and Murphy was one of the number.
To him, a triumph without _fun_ was beef without mustard, lamb without
salad, turbot without lobster sauce. Now, to entangle Furlong in their
meshes was not sufficient for him; to detain him from his friends, every
moment betraying something of their electioneering movements, though
sufficiently ludicrous in itself, was not enough for Murtough!--he would
make his captive a source of ridicule as well as profit, and while
plenty of real amusements might have served his end, to divert the
stranger for the day, this mock fishing-party was planned to brighten
with fresh beams the halo of the ridiculous which already encircled the
magnanimous Furlong.
"I'm still in the dark," said Dick, "about the salmon. As I said before,
there never was a salmon in the river."
"But, as I said before," replied Murphy, "there will be to-day; and you
must help me in playing off the trick."
"But what _is_ this trick? Confound you, you're as mysterious as a
chancery suit."
"I wish I was likely to last half as long," said Murphy.
"The trick!" said Dick. "Bad luck to you, tell me the trick, and don't
keep me waiting, like a poor relation."
"You have two boats on the river?" said Murphy.
"Yes."
"Well, you must get into one with our victim: and I can get into the
other with the salmon."
"But where's the salmon, Murphy?"
"In the house, for I sent one over this morning, a present to Mrs. Egan.
You must keep away about thirty yards or so, when we get afloat, that
our dear friend may not perceive the trick--and in proper time I will
hook my dead salmon on one of my lines, drop him over the off-side of
the boat, pass him round to the gun-wale within view of our intelligent
castle customer, make a great outcry, swear I have a noble bite, haul up
my fish with an enormous splash, and, affecting to kill him in the boat,
hold up my salmon in triumph."
"It's a capital notion, Murphy, if he doesn't smoke the trick."
"He'll smoke the salmon sooner. Never mind, if I don't hoax him: I'll
bet you what you like he's done."
"I hear him coming down-stairs," said the Squire.
"Then send off the salmon in a basket by one of the boys, Dick," said
Murphy; "and you, Squire, may go about your canvass, and leave us in
care of the enemy."
All was done as Murphy proposed, and, in something less than an hour,
Furlong and Dick in one boat, and Murphy and his attendant _gossoon_ in
another, were afloat on the river, to initiate the Dublin citizen into
the mysteries of this new mode of salmon-fishing.
The sport at first was slack, and no wonder; and Furlong began to grow
tired, when Murphy hooked on his salmon, and gently brought it round
under the water within range of his victim's observation.
"This is wather dull work," said Furlong.
"Wait awhile, my dear sir; they are never lively in biting so early as
this--they're not set about feeding in earnest yet. Hilloa! by the
Hokey I have him!" shouted Murphy. Furlong looked on with great
anxiety, as Murphy made a well-feigned struggle with a heavy fish.
"By this and that, he's a whopper!" cried Murphy in ecstasy. "He's
kicking like a two-year old. I have him, though, as fast as the rock o'
Dunamase. Come up, you thief!" cried he, with an exulting shout, as he
pulled up the salmon with all the splash he could produce; and suddenly
whipping the fish over the side into the boat, he began flapping it
about as if it were plunging in the death-struggle. As soon as he had
affected to kill it, he held it up in triumph before the castle
conjuror, who was quite taken in by the feint, and protested his
surprise loudly.
"Oh! that's nothing to what we'll do yet. If the day should become a
little more overcast, we'd have splendid sport, sir."
"Well, I could not have believed, if I hadn't seen it," said Furlong.
"Oh! you'll see more than that, my boy, before we've done with them."
"But I haven't got even a bite yet!"
"Nor I either," said Dick; "you're not worse off than I am."
"But how extwao'dinawy it is that I have not seen a fish wise since I
have been on the wiver."
"That's because they see us watching them," said Dick. "The d----l such
cunning brutes I ever met with as the fish in this river: now, if you
were at a distance from the bank, you'd see them jumping as lively as
grasshoppers. Whisht! I think I had a nibble."
"You don't seem to have good sport there," shouted Murphy.
"Vewy poo' indeed," said Furlong, dolefully.
"Play your line a little," said Murphy; "keep the bait lively--you're
not up to the way of fascinating them yet."
"Why, no; it's wather _noo_ to me."
"'Faith!" said Murphy to himself, "it's new to all of us. It's a bran
new invention in the fishing line. Billy," said he to the _gossoon_, who
was in the boat with him, "we must catch a salmon again to _divart_ that
strange gentleman--hook him on, my buck."
"Yes, sir," said Billy, with delighted eagerness, for the boy entered
into the fun of the thing heart and soul, and as he hooked on the salmon
for a second haul, he interlarded his labours with such ejaculations as,
"Oh, Misther Murphy, sir, but you're the funny jintleman. Oh, Misther
Murphy, sir, how soft the stranger is, sir. The salmon's ready for
ketchin' now, sir. Will you ketch him yet, sir?"
"Coax him round, Billy," said Murphy.
The young imp executed the manoeuvre with adroitness; and Murphy was
preparing for another haul, as Furlong's weariness began to manifest
itself.
"Do you intend wemaining here all day? Do you know, I think I've no
chance of any spo't."
"Oh, wait till you hook _one_ fish, at all events," said Murphy; "just
have it to say you killed a salmon in the new style. The day is
promising better. I'm sure we'll have sport yet. Hilloa! I've another!"
and Murphy began hauling in the salmon. "Billy, you rascal, get ready;
watch him--that's it--mind him now!" Billy put out his gaff to seize the
prize, and, making a grand swoop, affected to miss the fish. "Gaff him,
you thief, gaff him!" shouted Murphy, "gaff him, or he'll be off."
"Oh, he's so lively, sir!" roared Billy; "he's a rogue, sir--he won't
let me put the gaff undher him, sir--ow, he slipped away agin."
"Make haste, Billy, or I can't hold him."
"Oh, the thief!" said Billy; "one would think he was cotcht before, he's
so up to it. Ha!--hurroo!--I have him now, sir." Billy made all the
splash he could in the water as Murphy lifted the fish to the surface
and swung him into the boat. Again there was the flopping and the riot,
and Billy screeching, "Kill him, sir!--kill him, sir!--or he'll be off
out o' my hands!" In proper time the fish _was_ killed and shown up in
triumph, and the imposture completed.
And now Furlong began to experience that peculiar longing for catching a
fish, which always possesses men who see fish taken by others; and the
desire to have a salmon of his own killing induced him to remain on the
river. In the long intervals of idleness which occurred between the
occasional hooking up of the salmon, which Murphy _did_ every now and
then, Furlong _would be talking_ about business to Dick Dawson, so that
they had not been very long on the water until Dick became enlightened
on some more very important points connected with the election. Murphy
now pushed his boat on towards the shore.
"You're not going yet?" said the anxious fisherman;--"_do_ wait till I
catch a fish!"
"Certainly," said Murphy: "I'm only going to put Billy ashore, and send
home what we've already caught. Mrs. O'Grady is passionately fond of
salmon."
Billy was landed, and a large basket in which the salmon had been
brought down to the boat, was landed also--_empty_; and Murphy, lifting
the basket as if it contained a considerable weight, placed it on
Billy's head, and the sly young rascal bent beneath it, as if all the
fish Murphy had pretended to take were really in it; and he went on his
homeward way, with a tottering step, as if the load were too much for
him.
"That boy," said Furlong, "will never be able to cawwy all those fish to
the house."
"Oh, they won't be too much for him," said Dick. "Curse the fish! I
wish they'd bite. That thief, Murphy, has had all the sport; but he's
the best fisherman in the county, I'll own that."
The two boats all this time had been drifting down the river, and on
opening a new reach of the stream, a somewhat extraordinary scene of
fishing presented itself. It was not like Murphy's fishing, the result
of a fertile invention, but the consequence of the evil destiny which
presided over all the proceedings of Handy Andy. The fishing-party in
the boats beheld another fishing-party on shore, with this difference
in the nature of what they sought to catch, that while they in the
boats were looking for salmon, those on shore were seeking for a
post-chaise; and as about a third part of a vehicle so called was
apparent above the water, Furlong exclaimed with extreme surprise--
"Well, if it ain't a post-chaise!"
"Oh! that's nothing extraordinary," said Dick; "common enough here."
"How do you mean?"
"We've a custom here of running steeple-chases in post-chaises."
"Oh, thank you," said Furlong. "Come, that's _too_ good."
"You don't believe it, I see," said Dick. "But you did not believe the
salmon-fishing till you saw it."
"Oh, come now! How the deuce could you leap a ditch in a post-chaise?"
"I never said we leaped ditches; I only said we rode steeple-chases. The
system is this:--You go for a given point, taking high road, by-road,
plain, or lane, as the case may be, making the best of your way how you
can. Now our horses in this country are celebrated for being good
swimmers, so it's a favourite plan to shirk a bridge sometimes by
swimming a river."
"But no post-chaise will float," said Furlong, regularly arguing against
Dick's mendacious absurdity.
"Oh! we are prepared for that here. The chaises are made light, have
cork bottoms, and all the solid work is made hollow; the doors are made
water tight, and, if the stream runs strong, the passenger jumps out and
swims."
"But that's not fair," said Furlong; "it alters the weight."
"Oh! it's allowed on both sides," said Dick, "so it's all the same.
It's as good for the goose as the gander."
"I wather imagine it is much fitter for geese and ganders than human
beings. I know I should wather be a goose on the occasion."
All this time they were nearing the party on shore, and as the
post-chaise became more developed, so did the personages on the bank of
the river: and amongst these Dick Dawson saw Handy Andy in the custody
of two men, and Squire O'Grady shaking his fist in his face and storming
at him. How all this party came there, it is necessary to explain. When
Handy Andy had deposited Furlong at Merryvale, he drove back to pick up
the fallen postilion and his brother on the road; but before he reached
them, he had to pass a public-house--I say _had_ to pass--but he didn't.
Andy stopped, as every honourable postilion is bound to do, to drink the
health of the gentleman who gives him the last half-crown: and he was so
intent on "doing that same," as they say in Ireland, that Andy's driving
became very equivocal afterwards. In short, he drove the post-chaise
into the river; the horses got disentangled by kicking the traces (which
were very willing to break) into pieces; and Andy, by sticking to the
neck of the horse he rode, got out of the water. The horses got home
without the post-chaise, and the other post-chaise and pair got home
without a postilion, so that Owny Doyle was roused from his bed by the
neighing of the horses at the gate of the inn. Great was his surprise at
the event, as, half clad, and a candle in his hand, he saw two pair of
horses, one chaise, and no driver, at his door. The next morning the
plot thickened. Squire O'Grady came to know if a gentleman had arrived
at the town on his way to Neck-or-Nothing Hall. The answer was in the
affirmative. Then "Where was he?" became a question. Then the report
arrived of the post-chaise being upset in the river. Then came stories
of postilions falling off, of postilions being changed, of Handy Andy
being employed to take the gentleman to the place; and out of these
materials the story became current, that "an English gentleman was
dhrownded in the river in a post-chaise." O'Grady set off directly with
a party to have the river dragged, and near the spot encountering Handy
Andy, he ordered him to be seized, and accused him of murdering his
friend.
It was in this state of things that the boats approached the party on
land, and the moment Dick Dawson saw Handy Andy, he put out his oars and
pulled away as hard as he could. At the moment he did so, Andy caught
sight of him, and pointing out Furlong and Dick to O'Grady, he shouted,
"There he is!--there he is!--I never murdhered him? There he is!--stop
him! Misther Dick, stop, for the love of God!"
"What's all this about?" said Furlong, in great amazement.
"Oh, he's a process-server," said Dick; "the people are going to drown
him, maybe."
"To dwown him?" said Furlong, in horror.
"If he has luck," said Dick, "they'll only give him a good ducking; but
we had better have nothing to do with it. I would not like you to be
engaged in one of these popular riots."
"I shouldn't wellish it myself," said Furlong.
"Pull away, Dick," said Murphy; "let them kill the blackguard, if they
like."
"But will they kill him weally?" inquired Furlong, somewhat horrified.
"'Faith, it's just as the whim takes them," said Murphy; "but as we
wish to be popular on the hustings, we must let them kill as many as
they please."
Andy still shouted loud enough to be heard. "Misther Dick, they're
goin' to murdher me."
"Poo' w'etch!" said Furlong, with a very uneasy shudder.
"Maybe you'd think it right for us to land, and rescue him," said
Murphy, affecting to put about the boat.
"Oh, by no means," said Furlong. "You're bettaw acquainted with the
customs of the countwy than I am."
"Then we'll row back to dinner as fast as we can," said Murphy. "Pull
away, my hearties!" and, as he bent to his oars, he began bellowing the
Canadian Boat-Song, to drown Andy's roar, and when he howled--
"Our voices keep tune,"
there never was a more practical burlesque upon the words; but as he
added--
"Our oars keep time,"
he seemed to have such a pleasure in pulling, and looked so lively and
florid, that Furlong, chilled by his inactivity on the water, requested
Murtough to let him have an oar, to restore circulation by exercise.
Murtough complied; but the novice had not pulled many strokes, before
his awkwardness produced that peculiar effect called "catching a crab,"
and a smart blow upon his chest sent him heels over head under the
thwarts of the boat.
"Wha-wha-a-t's that?" gasped Furlong, as he scrambled up again.
"You only caught a crab," said Murtough.
"Good Heaven!" said Furlong, "you don't mean to say there are crabs as
well as salmon in the wiver."
"Just as many crabs as salmon," said Murtough; "pull away, my hearty.
"Row, brothers, row--the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!"