“If I might be so bold,” cried Maurice, “how long?”
“Half an hour, by a stop-watch,” said the other, pulling up his stock; “and I had quite enough of it in that time.”
“Pray give us your experiences,” cried out Bob Mahon; “they should be interesting, considering your opportunities.”
“You are right,” said the cornet; “they were so; and as they illustrate a feature in your amiable country, you shall have them.”
A general knocking upon the table announced the impatience of the company, and when silence was restored the cornet began:—
When the ‘Bermuda’ transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals who, before they became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on pickled pork. The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; it blew a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought, and the good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of Biscay, was scudding away under a double-reefed topsail towards the coast of Labrador. For six days we experienced every sea-manoeuvre that usually preludes a shipwreck, and at length, when, what from sea-sickness and fear, we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, the sea went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor of Cork, with a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes of the past week had been nothing but a dream.
“‘Come, Mr. Medlicot,’ said the skipper to me, ‘we shall be here for a couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the country?’
“I sprang to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and mutton-chops floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes I found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove which, opposite Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the ‘Goat and Garters.’
“‘Breakfast, waiter,’ said I; ‘a beefsteak,—fresh beef, mark ye,—fresh eggs, bread, milk, and butter, all fresh. No more hard tack,’ thought I; ‘no salt butter, but a genuine land breakfast.’
“Up-stairs, No. 4, sir,’ said the waiter, as he flourished a dirty napkin, indicating the way.