"At least," said I, "he never had hand either in murder, or pillage, or
meanness to a woman. He is an honest soldier, though, alas! on the
wrong side."
Captain Lestrange laughed.
"It is the fashion of these rebels," said he, "to dignify themselves as
soldiers and claim the honours of war. But when we get hold of them
they will learn that there is a difference between felony and warfare.
Can you not persuade your brother out of it? I hear he is a fine
fellow."
"I have tried," said I, mollified by this compliment; "but it is
useless, and at present he is not to be found."
"That's the best place for him. As to Miss Gorman, I will go over to
Knockowen and see if anything can be done to intercept the Dutchman.
Meanwhile what of you?"
"I go to join my ship."
"Good. We may meet again, Gallagher. Our paths have met strangely
before now. Heaven grant they may bring us out into fair weather at
last."
I left him on the whole in good cheer. There was a blunt frankness
about him which led me to believe that were I ever to be called upon to
meet Captain Lestrange as an enemy, it would be as an honest and
generous one. His affected indolence had already been disproved by the
service he had rendered to the ladies in Paris. His regrets as to Tim
showed that he was a man in whom the kindlier instincts were not all
wanting. What, however, comforted me most was his tone with regard to
Miss Kit. There was nothing of the lover about the words, and too
little of the actor about the man to lead me to suppose he was deluding
me. Why should he? He was my superior in birth and rank. He had
claims of kinship and property which pointed him out as the natural
squire for the heiress of Kilgorman. The idea of my being a rival had
probably never entered his head; and if it had, would have done so only
to raise a smile of incredulous pity. But that a lover could receive
the news I brought as he did seemed quite impossible. So I went on my
way, if not cheered, at least with a less heavy weight on my mind than
before.
I found Captain Swift in bed with an attack of jaundice, and in a state
of high excitement.
"How did you know I wanted you?" he said when I presented myself.
"I did not, sir," said I. "Have you any orders for me?"
"A despatch has come from the Admiralty," said he, "cancelling all leave
of absence. The _Diana_ being still under repair, I am appointed to the
_Zebra_, now off Dublin, and ordered to sail on Saturday to join the
fleet watching the Dutch off the Texel."
I hope he put down to zeal for the service the whole of the satisfaction
with which I received this announcement. No work just then could fit in
better with my humour than watching the Dutchmen.
"Be ready to start by to-night's coach," said he. "I shall follow to-
morrow, with or without my doctor's leave. Here is a letter I wish you
to deliver at the Admiralty. Then report yourself on board. I hear
she's an ill-found craft, and no one knows what sort of crew they will
rake up for us. I wish the _Diana_ hands were within call," he added to
himself.
Next day I was in Dublin, and duly left my captain's letter at the
Admiralty. I was instructed to report myself on board the _Zebra_
before sundown, as there was much work to be done getting crew and
stores in order ready for our immediate departure.
Having an hour or two at my disposal, I took a walk through the streets.
Dublin, to all outward appearance, was in an orderly and peaceable
state, and gave few signs of being, what it actually was at that time,
the hotbed of a dangerous rebellion. It was only when I dived into some
of the lower streets near the river, and saw the mysterious and ominous
groups which hung about at the corners, and noticed the menacing looks
with which they greeted any chance passer-by who was known to be a
servant of the government, that I realised that I walked, as it were, on
the edge of a volcano. How soon I was to experience for myself the
terrors of that coming explosion the reader will hear.
I had got beyond the streets and into the Park, attracted thither by
strains of martial music, when, in a retired path, I encountered a
gentleman dressed in a close-fitting, semi-military coat, with a green
scarf round his neck, and switching a cane to and fro as he paced
moodily along. I recognised him as Lord Edward.
He looked up as I approached and at once recognised me.
"Ah, Gallagher, what news from Donegal? How is the charming fair one?"
said he.
"The charming fair one," said I, with a bitterness that startled him,
"is a victim in the hands of your lordship's followers. She has been
decoyed away and carried off to Holland as an act of reprisal against
her father."
"What?" said he. "Tell me what you mean."
And I told him my story. He listened, switching his cane against his
leg, and watching my face with keen interest.
"It is part of the fortune of war," said he, "that the innocent suffer
for the guilty. But this must be seen to at once. The _Scheldt_ will
probably make for Holland by the north route. If so, she will not
arrive at Rotterdam for a week or two. By that time I will communicate
with some one I know near there, and see she is taken care of. Hang the
fools!" muttered he. "What good can come to any one by such an act?"
"Indeed, my lord," said I, "if I may venture to say so; Ireland has
little to look for from her professed friends in Donegal, where private
spite and greed are the main support of your confederacy."
"You are not the first who has told me that," said he gloomily. "No
doubt you are glad to see our weakness in this quarter."
"I should be but that my brother, although absent, is the nominal head
there, and it's little credit to him."
"Tim Gallagher is too good a man to be wasted."
"Do you know where he is?" I inquired.
"Abroad on his country's service," said Lord Edward. "You must be
content with that. Here our ways part. Good-bye, my lad." And he gave
me a friendly nod.
"Your lordship will pardon me one question. Have you any objection to
tell me the address of the friend in Holland to whose care you propose
to commend Miss Gorman?"
"She is an old retainer in a kinswoman's family, one Biddy McQuilkin.
She keeps a little inn on the outskirts of the Hague, called the 'White
Angel.'"
"Biddy McQuilkin!" exclaimed I with excitement. "Why, she was servant
to the Lestranges in Paris, who perished in 'the terror.'"
"The same. This Biddy was overlooked, and finally escaped, and by the
interest of Madame Sillery got to Holland, and set up at this small inn,
frequented by English and Irish visitors."
It was difficult to disguise the joy which this unexpected discovery
afforded me. I bade adieu to his lordship with a grateful salute, and
then betook myself in a state of wonder and jubilation to the harbour.
In Biddy McQuilkin were centred any hopes I entertained of righting the
wrong which had been done at Kilgorman, and so of carrying out my
mother's sacred bequest. Moreover, the thought that Miss Kit would find
so stalwart a protector at the end of her unhappy voyage lifted a heavy
weight from my mind.
And all this relief I owed to the man whom, of all others, I, as a loyal
subject of his Majesty, was bound to consider as my country's most
dangerous enemy! Alack! I was not born to be a good hater. For as I
strode that evening through the streets of Dublin I counted this Lord
Edward as one of the few men for whom I would gladly have given my life.
When in due time I procured a boat to row me out to the _Zebra_, I found
that Captain Swift's forebodings as to the state of the ship were only
too well founded. The _Zebra_ was a second-rate frigate, which for some
years had been out of regular commission, doing duty on coast-guard
service, or cruising under letters of marque. She was not an ill-
looking craft; though, to judge by her looks as she rode at anchor, her
lines were better adapted to fast sailing than hard knocks.
When I reported myself on board, however, I was better able to
understand my captain's misgivings. The first lieutenant in charge was
a coarse, brutal-looking fellow, who, if he spared me some of the abuse
which he measured out to the ordinary seamen, did so because he looked
to me to take some labour off his hands.
"It's high time you came," said he; "and unless you can lick a pack of
wolves into shape, you may as well swing yourself up at the yard-arm at
once. They seem to have emptied all the jails in Dublin to find us men;
and as for stores--well, the less said about these the better."
I was not long in discovering that he had good reasons for his gloomy
opinions. The hands, whom presently I piped on deck, were as ill-
assorted and ill-conditioned a lot as boatswain ever was called upon to
overhaul. Many were raw hands, who did not know one end of a mast from
the other. Others, who knew better, appeared to be the refuse of crews
which had rejected their worst men. And the few old salts of the right
kind were evidently demoralised and dissatisfied, both at their enforced
association with their present messmates and with the abrupt termination
of their leave ashore.
As to the officers, with the exception of the first lieutenant and a few
of the petty officers who took their cue from him, they seemed a decent
and fairly smart set, although few of them had been tried in active
service, and fewer still, I fancy, had had charge of so ill-found a ship
as the _Zebra_.
One of the first complaints I was called upon to hear and report to my
officers was as to the ship's food, which was truly as scurvy and
unsavoury a provision as I ever saw. Biscuits and grog and pork were
such as the lowest slop-shop in Letterkenny would have been ashamed to
sell.
"It's good enough for hounds like them," was all I could get out of the
lieutenant. "They can take it or leave it."
The next complaint I made was on my own account, and referred to the
ship's stores. We had barely our complement of anchors and cables,
still less any to come and go on. For reserve spars and sails and other
tackle we were almost as badly off; while the ammunition and arms were
certainly not enough for a service involving any considerable action.
The officer in charge received all these representations with the utmost
indifference.
"Get better if you can," said he; "it's all of a piece, and quite proper
for a service that's gone to the dogs. Hark at those demons now! The
rum seems good enough, anyhow."
And indeed all that night the _Zebra_ was more like a madhouse than one
of his Majesty's ships. What authority there was was maintained at the
end of the cat-o'-nine-tails. As for the enthusiasm and patriotic
ardour which are usually supposed to hail the prospect of close-quarters
with the enemy, one would have had to listen long and hard for any sign
of either below decks that night.
"The best that can happen to us," said I to myself, as I turned in at
last, "is a hurricane up Channel, and the Dutch fleet at the end of it.
These may hold us together; nothing else will."
When Captain Swift came on board next evening things mended a little,
for our gallant officer was a man whose name and manner both commanded
respect. At the last moment some few additional stores were brought
off; and the little speech he made to the crew, reminding them of their
honourable profession, and holding out a prospect of distinction and
prize-money in the near future, was listened to with more respect than I
feared it would meet. The men, through one of their number, made a
formal complaint of their grievances, which Captain Swift received on
his part without resentment. The order was then given to weigh anchor,
and half-an-hour later the _Zebra_ was standing out to sea on as ill-
starred a voyage as vessel ever made.
Had Captain Swift's health been equal to his gallantry and tact all
might even yet have gone well. But he came on board ill, and two days
after we sailed he was confined to his berth with a dangerous relapse,
and the fate of the _Zebra_ was left in the hands of the worst possible
man for the duty--Mr Adrian, the first lieutenant.