sarpint."
"I can believe the first half of the yarn," quoth Captain Blunt.
"You can, can you?" quoth Rory. "Well, sure, it's all roight after all;you belave the _first_ half, and he belaves the second half himself;what more can you wish? Faith, it's as roight as the rainbow."
"Well, Rory," said the skipper, laughing, "can't you tell us a storyyourself every word of which we can all believe?"
Rory scratched his head, with a comical look twinkling in his eyes andpuckering his face.
"Deed and indeed," he said, "if it be my turn, I won't be after spoilingthe fun."
Book 2--CHAPTER NINE.
RORY O'REILLY'S QUEER STORY.
"Till now we quietly sailed on, Yet never a breeze did blow; Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath.
"The upper air burst into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about, And to and fro and in and out The war stars danced between."
Coleridge.
"Deed and indeed," said Rory, "if it be my turn I won't be afterspoiling the fun; and sure, boys, thim is the very words mygreat-grandfather said when he and a dozen more were going to be hangedat Ballyporeen in the troublesome times.
"And is it a story you said?"
"Yes, Rory, a story."
Now Rory's religious feelings and his sense of humour used oftentimes tobe strangely at loggerheads. The fact is, he would not tell a wilfulfalsehood for all he was worth.
"But, sure," he would say, "there can't be a taste of harm in telling astory or two just to amuse the boys." Yet, to make assurance doublysure, and his conscience as easy as possible, he always prefaced hisyarns with a bit of advice such as follows--"Now, boys, believe me, it'slies I'm going to be after telling you entirely. Believe me, thereisn't a morsel av truth in any av me stories, from beginning to ind, andthere's sorra a lie in that."
On this particular occasion, instead of commencing at once, Rory tookhis pipe from his mouth, and sat gazing for about a minute intodreamland, as one might say, with smiles playing at hide-and-seek allover his face.
"Thim was the glorious toimes, boys," he said.
"What times, Rory?"
"Did I never tell you, then?" replied Rory, trying to look innocent.
"What! not about the beautiful island, and the mighty mountains, and thegoold, and the jewels, and the big turtle and all?"
"No, Rory, never a word."
"Well, then, to begin with, it's ten years ago, and maybe a bit more, soI wasn't so old as I am now. I hadn't been more'n a year or two at sea,and mostly coasting that same would be, though sure enough my greatambition was to sail away beyond the sunrise, or away to the back av thenorth wind and seek me fortune. It was living at home in ould Oirland Iwas then, with mother and Molly--the saints be around them thisnoight!--and a swater, claner, tidier bit av a lass than me sister Mollythere doesn't live 'tween here and Tralee, and sure that is the only bitav real truth in the whole av me story."
"We perfectly believe that, Rory."
"Well thin, boys, it was crossing the bog I was one beautiful moonlightnight about five o'clock in the morning, and a big wild bog it was, too,with never a house nor a cot in it, and nobody at all barrin' themoor-snipes and the kelpies, when all at once, what or who should I seestanding right foreninst me, beside a rick av peats, but a gentleman insailor's clothes, with gold all round his hat, and a bunch av sealsdangling in front av him as big as turkey's eggs. And sure it wasn'tshy he was at spaking either, boys.
"`The top av the mornin' to ye,' says he.
"`The same to you,' says I, quite bold-like, though my heart felt as bigas peat; `the same to you and a thousand av them.'
"`Is it poor or rich ye are?' says he.
"`As poor as a peat creel,' says I.
"`Then sure,' says he, `I daresay it isn't sorry to make your fortuneyou'd be.'
"`I'll do anything short of shootin' a fellow-bein',' says I, `for thatsame.'
"`Well,' says he, `it's lookin' out for nate young fellows like yourselfI do be, and if you'll sail with me to a foreign shore, thir you'll seewhat you'll see.'
"`I'm your man then,' I says.
"`You'll have lashin's o' atin' and drinkin',' says he, `and lashin's o'gold for the gatherin', but there is one thing, and that isn't two,which I must tell you; you'll have to fight, Rory lad.'
"`I'm your man again,' says I. `Sure there isn't a boy in all theparish I can't bate black and blue before ye could sneeze. And I spatin my fist as I spoke.'
"`Ah! but,' says he, `the cave where all the gold is is guarded by theugliest old goblin that ever was created. It is him you'll have to helpfight, Rory; it's him you'll have to help fight.'
"`Och!' I cries, `no matter at all, at all; the uglier the better, solong as he's got the goold behind him. Rory will walk through him likedaylight through a dishcloth. Hurrah!'
"And I began to jump about, and spar at all the ugly old imaginarygoblins I could think of.
"The gintleman laughed.
"`You'll do fust-rate,' he says, says he; `shake hands on the subject.'
"And he gave me his hand, and truth, boys, it felt as cold and damp asthe tail av a fish. And more betoken, I couldn't help noticing that allthe time he was speakin' to me, he kept changing his size. At onemoment he didn't look a morsel bigger than a pint bottle, and next--troth, he was tall enough to spit on me hat.
"`But two heads are better than one,' says I to myself; `next mornin'I'll go and see the priest.'
"`It was a mere optical allusion,' said the priest, when I told him howthe gintleman was sometimes big and sometimes small, a `mere opticalallusion, Rory,' he says; `had you been tasting the crayture?'
"`Troth, maybe I had,' says I.
"`Well,' says he, `that was it. To my thinking this sailor gintleman isan honest man enough. Meet him, Rory, in Dublin as he axed you, andsail with him, Tim; sure it'll make a man o' ye, and your mother andMolly as well, Rory.'
"`Well,' says I, `give me your blessin', your riverance, and I'll beafter going.'
"`I'll not be denying ye that same,' says his riverance.
"But it was mother and Molly that wept when I told them where I wasgoing. Och! they did weep, to be sure; but when I told them of all thefoine countries I'd see, and all the goold I'd bring home, troth it'sbrighten up they did wonderful, and for all the fortnight before Isailed we did nothing but talk, and talk, and talk, bar that all thetime they were talking it is mending me shirts and darning me stockingsthe dear craytures were.
"Well wi' this and wi' that the time passed away quickly enough, and atlong last I bade them good-bye, and with a big lump in me throat, away Istarted for Dublin Bay.
"I mind it well, boys; it was the dark hour av midnight when we got upanchor and sailed away, and there was such a thunderstorm rattling overthe big hill o' Howth as I'd never seen the likes of in my born days.There wasn't a breath av wind either, but somehow that didn't make amorsel av difference to the ship one way or another. She was a quareship.
"We were far out of sight av land next morning, and with niver anothership to be seen. It didn't seem sailing we were, boys, but flying; itdidn't seem through the water we went, but over it, boys. It's a foineship she was, and a purty one as well.
"Talk av white decks, boys! ours were alabaster, and the copper nails inher weren't copper at all, but the purest av gold, and the brass workthe same. Sure didn't I get me ould knife out just to try it.
"`Don't you be scraping at that,' says the captain, right behind me,`and spoiling the looks av the ship. It's plenty of that we'll getwhere we're going to.'
"Then I looks up, and there stood the captain right a-top av thebinnacle, and sorra more than one eye had he. `By the powers!' says I,`what have ye done with your other eye, captain?'
"`Whisht, Rory!' says he; `it's in the locker down below I keep theother. One eye is enough to use at a time.'
"`If it's a good one,' says I, talking friendly l
oike.
"`It's me weather eye, Rory,' says he; `but go and do your duty, Rory,and keep silence when ye talk to your supairior officer.'
"The crew av this strange ship, boys, were forty av the foinest fellowsthat ever walked on two legs, barrin' that niver a one o'