A strange thing befell me as soon as I landed in Dublin. I was prowling
along the quay, wondering whether I should present myself then and there
at the Admiralty, or take French leave for Donegal while I was free and
had money in my pocket, when I was startled out of my wits by what
seemed to be a veritable ghost in my path. Unless I had been certain
that I was the only survivor out of the ill-starred _Zebra_, I could
have sworn I saw Mr Felton, the second lieutenant, leaning over the
rails, watching the dressing of a smart-looking revenue cutter that lay
out in the water-way. The more I looked the less like a ghost did he
appear, until at last I ventured to walk up to him with a salute.
"Good-morrow, Lieutenant Felton," said I.
"Captain, if you please," said he, turning round. "What! is that you,
Gallagher, or your ghost? I thought I was the only man that saved his
life out of that fated ship."
"I thought the same of myself, till this moment," said I.
"I hung on to a cask for close on twenty-four hours, till an English
lugger picked me up. But I'll tell you of that later. Where do you
spring from?"
"From hospital; I was on Duncan's ship at the battle of Camperdown--"
"You were! Lucky dog!" interjected he.
"Where I got a crack in the shoulder, and am only just out."
"And what are you going to do?"
"I am going to report myself at the Admiralty, and apply for a berth. I
have my papers, and a letter from the admiral himself."
"It strikes me they'll have to build a ship for you," said he, with a
laugh; "for, supposing you to be dead, I gave such an extravagantly
glowing account of your conduct on the _Zebra_, that I dare swear
they'll want to make a vice-admiral of you straight away. But what do
you say to serve under me? Just at the time when I called at the
Admiralty they had received a pressing request from the Customs to find
them an officer to take charge of a cutter--there she lies," pointing to
the smart craft he had been inspecting; "and they gave me the offer, and
I took it. And I'm on the look-out for a few smart hands, especially a
first officer."
"Nothing would suit me better," said I, "if I can get the proper step.
I'm only a boatswain, you know."
"That will not be difficult with the papers you have got and your
record. At a time like this they are not stiff about promotion,
provided they get the proper men. So come along and beard the lions at
once."
"There's one thing, sir," said I, "that I must do before I can join any
ship--I must take a run home to Donegal, to--"
"Donegal! why, that's where we're ordered to, man. There's a gang of
smugglers on the coast between Inishowen and Fanad that we've got to
catch; and if that's near your home--"
"Near!" I exclaimed; "sure it _is_ my home. I know every creek and
shoal of the coast in the dark."
"That settles it," said Captain Felton, thumping me on the back; "you
are the man I want, and I'm the man you want. Come away!"
As he had predicted, my papers, and especially Admiral Duncan's letter,
added to the previous favourable reports of Captain Swift and Mr
Felton, stood me in good stead with the authorities, especially just
then when there was a dearth of men to fill all the vacancies caused by
the war. I was told to call again on the following day, when, to my
astonishment, I was handed a commission appointing me a lieutenant in
his Majesty's navy, and a letter of recommendation to the Customs for
appointment to the _Gnat_, Captain Felton's cutter.
With a bound of joy I found myself, by some strange shifting of the
luck, a gentleman and an officer after all--humble and poor indeed, but
entitled to hold my head with the best; and what was more--and that sent
the blood tingling through my veins--no longer beyond the range of my
little mistress's recognition as a suitor. A paltry distinction if you
will, and one in name only; for the gentleman is born, not made by
Admiralty warrants; and had I been a cur at heart, no promotion could
have made me otherwise. But if at heart I was a gentleman, this new
title gave me the right to call myself one, and opened a door to me
which till now I had thought fast shut.
The week that followed was one of busy work; so busy that I had scarce
time to wander through my old haunts in Dublin and notice the air of
sullen mischief which brooded over the city. Men were watched and
watching at every corner, guards were doubled, officials walked abroad
only under escort. This man was pointed out as a leader of the coming
"turn-out"--for so they spoke of the rebellion that was to follow--that
was marked down as a traitor, and walked with the sentence of death in
his hang-dog face. This man was spoken of as one to be got at and won
over; and that was hooted and spat upon as he rode past in his gay
equipage amid flying stones, and now and again a bullet out of space,
which made him glad enough to retreat into cover. But these last
demonstrations were less common than the dull, savage air of menace
which pervaded the place. Something assuredly was going to happen.
Some said the French were already on their way to Ireland, and that
their landing was to be the signal for a general rising. Others
whispered that Lord Edward had his plans ripe for the capture of the
capital, and the setting up of the new Irish republic. Many said all
this suspense was just the sign that no leader was ready to fire the
mine, and unless the blow was struck soon it would not be struck at all.
As to the men in office and the police, they held their peace, saying
nothing, but hearing all.
I encountered no one I knew, except one man, him who once had stopped me
on the steps of the hotel, after my first meeting with Lord Edward, and
who had offered me money for information. To my surprise he now greeted
me by name.
"Good-day, Mr Gallagher; glad to meet you. How go matters in Donegal?
and how is Lord Edward?"