"Watch her helm, she's falling away," said he, almost sharply. "Ay,
she's back, but no nearer your reach for that. I hear Gorman has become
a rich man since. The English estates that belonged to the master of
Kilgorman have yielded a great profit, and besides that he has got hold
of the Lestrange property too. The young lady is an heiress, and this
Captain Lestrange you spoke of, who saved them out of Paris, is not
likely to lose the chance of getting a wife and his family estates back
into the bargain. Don't be a fool, Barry. You and I are only sailor
lads. It does not become us to be hankering after heiresses. But the
freedom of Ireland we may and must strive for; and, Barry, brother,"
(and what a whack he caught me on my back), "we'll get it!"
I turned in that night with my head in a whirl. It seemed as if every
joy I had was destined to crumble in my hand. No sooner had I found my
little lady in Paris than a cruel hand swept us asunder. No sooner had
I found my brother than I found him estranged from me in a hopeless
cause. No sooner had I heard of the safety of her I loved than I heard
she was lifted further out of my reach than ever. I could have wished I
had never met Tim again. I should at least have slept better had I lain
in my bunk with no thought but that of the French coast dropping league
by league astern. Now, even Ireland seemed to have its terrors ahead.
But sleep came to my rescue, and with sleep came courage and hope. Why
should I be afraid? What had I to hang my head at? Was I, who had come
through a reign of terror, going to mope at troubles in advance?
Sufficient unto the day should be the evil thereof!
So I met Tim with a smile in the morning, and asked him to report me to
Captain Keogh.
That worthy officer had quite slept off the debauch of last night, and
was apparently looking forward to the next, for a bottle of rum stood on
the cabin table. He had not the slightest recollection of me, but when
he heard I was his lieutenant's brother, he poured out three glasses and
proposed luck all round.
"Sit down, Gallagher," said he to Tim. "I can't ask your brother to
sit, for the sake of the discipline of the ship; but I'm pleased to see
him, and if he's a handy lad like you I'll make a seaman of him."
"Barry's worth any dozen of the likes of me," said Tim, "when it comes
to sailing. If any one can get an extra tack out of the old _Kestrel_,
he can."
"Don't talk disrespectfully of your ship, lieutenant," said Captain
Keogh. "To be sure, the carpenter has been pestering me this morning
about the timbers; but I told him he'd probably only make things worse
by patching. You can't put new wine into old bottles, you know,"--here
he poured himself out a fresh glass--"and we shall hold well enough
together till we reach Bantry."
"Sligo," said Tim.
"Well, Sligo. We must keep clear of French privateers and give the
coast a wide berth. That's the very thing. This wind must have been
turned on to suit us. I positively thought the _Kestrel_ was sailing
fast to-day."
"She's well enough as she is, but if we get into dirty weather, we ought
to run in for the nearest port we can reach."
"We are much more likely to run into dead calms, and have to sit
whistling for the wind--dry work at best, but in this weather terrible."
And he gulped down his rum, and nodded a dismissal.
The captain's forecast, as it turned out, was pretty near the mark. Off
the Cornish coast we fell into a succession of calms, which kept us
practically motionless for half a week. Even the light breezes which
would have sufficed to send the _Arrow_ spinning through the water,
failed utterly to put way upon our cranky tub; and every day the
carpenter was growing more persistent in his complaints. At last
Captain Keogh ordered him to do what he pleased so long as he held his
peace, whereupon the sound of hammering and tinkering might be heard for
a day across the still water.
During these lazy days, Tim and I talked a great deal. He was full of
visions and hopes of an emancipated Ireland, and all the glories which
should belong to her.
"Think of it, Barry. Every man's land will be his own. We shall have
our own army and navy. There will be no England to tax us and bleed us
to death. We shall have open arms for the friends of liberty all the
world over. Irishmen will stay at home instead of carrying their
manhood to foreign climes. Nay, we shall stand with our heel on the
neck of England, and she who for centuries has ground the spirit out of
us will sue to us for quarter."
"How will you manage all this?" said I.
"The people are armed, only waiting the signal to rise and throw off the
yoke. England is not ready, she is beset on all sides, her fleet is
discontented, her armies are scattered over Europe, her garrison in
Ireland is half asleep. Our leaders are only waiting their time, and
meanwhile Irishmen are flocking to the banner daily. And more than
that, Barry," added he, with a thump on the bulwark, "at the first blow
from us, France will be ready to strike for our liberty too. I know
that for certain, my boy."
"France!" said I. "If there are innocents to be slaughtered, and blood
to flow, and fiends to be let loose, you may depend on her."
"She at least is more our friend than men like Gorman, who one day, when
they are poor, with nothing to lose, are for the people, and the next,
when they are rich, are for the crown and the magistrates and the
Protestant ascendency. It will be a sorry look-out for such as these
when we come into our own.--There comes a breeze surely!"
"South-easterly," said I; "that will suit us."
It was a moderate breeze only, but it brought us on our way opportunely,
until one day, as we looked out, there was land on our weather-beam.
Then fell another calm, longer and more dead than the last. The sea was
like glass, the horizon hazy, and the heat oppressive. The carpenter,
as now and again he looked up at the lifeless sails, muttered between
his teeth.
"I hear," said Tim, "our timbers above the water-line have sprung here
and there. The old tub is quite rotten, and every day we lie idle like
this she grows worse."
"This time to-morrow, by all signs, we shall not be lying idle," said I,
glancing up at the metallic sky, and following the line of a school of
porpoises as they wheeled across our stern.
"So much the better. We must run before the wind wherever it comes
from. We could not live through a cross-sea for an hour."
The storm came sooner than I expected. The metallic sky grew overcast,
and a warning shudder fell over the still surface of the water. Then a
sudden squall took us amidships, and sent us careening over on our beam,
before we even knew that the calm was at an end.
We had no more than time to shorten our courses and turn her head, when
the tempest struck us from the south-west, lashing up the sea at our
stern, and making our cranky masts stoop forward and creak like things
in mortal pain.
The carpenter's face grew longer than ever.
"For mercy's sake, captain," said he, "keep her in the wind, or she'll
crack to pieces. You can't afford to take a point. We're only sound
under calm water-line; above it, she's as thirsty as a sieve."
"More shame to you," growled Captain Keogh. "We're all thirsty here."
"You'll have water enough presently," muttered the carpenter to himself
as he went below.
"Gallagher, you and your brother take the helm. Keep her out a taste,
whatever yonder fool says. My! she's spinning along for once in a way.
At this rate we shall make Achill by night."
"Better try for Galway, sir," said I.
"Hold your tongue, you French fool," cried the captain, who was greatly
excited. "Save your advice till it's asked, or go aloft.--I tell you,"
said he, turning to Tim, "it's Sligo or nowhere. There's not a cruiser
there to interfere with us, or an exciseman that we can't square. I
reckon there's profit enough in this lace to pay an admiral's prize-
money. Galway! You might as well try to land at London Bridge."
Here the carpenter once more rushed on deck. He looked up at the
canvas, then at the compass, then at the helm.
"I declare, after what I told you, you're two points out of the wind,
sir. The ship won't stand it, I tell you. She's leaking already. You
need all that canvas down, and only your jibs and foresails; and even
then you must let her run."
Captain Keogh turned upon him with a torrent of abuse.
"Saints help us! Am I the captain of this ship, or are you, you long-
jawed, squint-eyed, whining son of a wood-chopper you? First it's a
French stowaway wants to tell me my business, then it's you. Why
doesn't the cabin-boy come up and take charge of the ship? Way there
take in the courses, and let the helm go. Give the fool what he wants,
and give me a dram for luck."
All that day we flew through the water in front of as fierce a south-
wester as I was ever out in. The carpenter reported that the pumps were
holding their own and no more, but that a dozen cross-seas would split
us open like rotten medlar. When night fell, the weather promised to
grow worse, and the rain and hail at our backs made it almost impossible
to keep up our heads.
"It's all very well," said Tim, who had been down to the cabin to
inspect the chart, "but this can't go on. We've had water-room all day,
but I reckon we are closing in on the land every yard now, and if we
don't put out her head we shall find ourselves on the Connemara coast."
"Better run for Galway, and say nothing," said I.
"Too late now. I wish we had."
"Out she goes then," said I; "it's a question between going down where
we are or breaking to pieces against Slyne Head."
"That's just it," said Tim. "The captain's dead drunk below. Call all
hands aft, Barry; let them choose."
The men crowded aft, and Tim spoke to them.
"We're in for an ugly night, my lads, and we're on a rotten boat. The
carpenter says, unless we run before the wind, we shall go to pieces in
half-an-hour. I say, if we do run, we shall be on Slyne Head in two
hours. Which shall it be? I don't mind much myself."
"Put it to the vote," said one.
So a vote was taken, and of forty men who voted, twenty-five were for
death in two hours, and fifteen for death in an hour.
"Very good," said Tim. "Get to your posts, and remember you are under
orders till we strike. Then shift for yourselves; and the Lord have
mercy on us all!"
"Amen!" said the sailors, and returned to their duties.
It was a terrible night, and, to make matters worse, as black as pitch.
We should not even have the help of daylight for meeting our doom.
"Barry," said Tim, "I don't think we shall both perish. If it's I,
promise me you will fight for Ireland till she is free."
"If you die, Tim, I don't care what I do. I promise. And if I die,
promise me--"
"Not to go near that girl?"
"No," said I, with a groan.
"What, then?"
"Search below the great hearth at Kilgorman, and do whatever the message
you will find there bids you. It is not my message, but our mother's."
"I promise that. But hold on now," said he, catching me by the arm,
"the old ship's beforehand with us. She's going to pieces before we
reach shore."
Sure enough she was. The rough water into which we were plunging
loosened her already warped timbers, and she gradually ceased to rise on
the waves, but settled down doggedly and sullenly as the water poured in
on this side and that and filled her hold. Captain Keogh, suddenly
roused to his senses, staggered on deck, and took the helm, not for any
good he could do, but from the sailor's instinct to be at his post at
the end.
All hands came on deck, and the order was given to lower the boats. For
the credit of these Irishmen be it said that no man stepped in till he
was ordered by name. The first boat capsized before she even reached
the water, and swung with a crash that shivered her against the side of
the ship. The other was more fortunate, and got clear just before we
foundered.
Tim, who might have joined it, preferred to stand by me. The other men
provided themselves with spars or corks, and prepared for the end.
"Keep near me," said Tim with a tremble in his voice, not of fear but of
affection.
That was all I heard; for at that moment the _Kestrel_ gave a dive
forward, which cleared her decks, and sent her, captain, lace, and all,
to the bottom.
"Jump!" cried a voice at my side.
I felt an arm round me as the water closed over us; and when, struggling
hard against the suck of the foundering ship, I rose to the surface, Tim
was beside me with one arm still round me, the other clinging to a
floating spar.