'Come now, Captain, you are a man that knows his humanities; 'I be judged by you.'
'I protest,' said I laughingly, 'I'd rather pronounce on your punch than your polemics.'
'No, would you though?' said the priest, with a joyous twinkle in his eye, that showed which controversy had more attraction for him. 'Faix, then, you shall have a fair trial. Beach me that glass, Mr. Larkins; and if it isn't sweet enough, maybe Mrs. Carney would stir it for you with her finger. There, now, we'll be comfortable and social, and have no more bother about creeds, nor councils; for although it is only child's play for me to demolish a hundred like you, I'd rather be merciful, and leave you, like Alexander the coppersmith, to get the reward of your works.'
Whether it was the polite attention bestowed upon me by his reverence, or that the magical word 'Captain,' so generic for all things military in Ireland, had its effect, or that any purely personal reasons were the cause, I cannot aver; but, certainly, Mrs. Carney's manner became wonderfully softened. She smiled at me slyly when the priest wasn't looking, and vouchsafed an inquiry as to whether I had ever served in the Roscommon yeomanry.
The kettle once more sent forth its fragrant steam, the glasses were filled, the vanquished Quaker had extinguished both himself and his argument beneath his broad beaver; and Father Tom, with a glance of pleasure at the party, pronounced our arrangements perfect, and suggested a round game, by way of passing the time.
'We are now,' said he, 'on the long level for eighteen miles; there's neither a lock nor a town to disturb us. Give Mrs. Carney the cards.'
The proposition was met with hearty approval; and thus did I, Lieutenant Hinton, of the Grenadier Guards, extra aide-de-camp to the viceroy, discover myself at four in the morning engaged at a game of loo, whose pecuniary limits were fourpence, but whose boundaries as to joke and broad humour were wide as the great Atlantic. Day broke, and I found myself richer by some tumblers of the very strongest whisky punch, a confounded headache, and two-and-eightpence in bad copper jingling in my pocket.
CHAPTER XX. SHANNON HARBOUR
Little does he know who voyages in a canal-boat, dragged along some three miles and a half per hour, ignominiously at the tails of two ambling hackneys, what pride, pomp, and circumstance await him at the first town he enters. Seated on the deck, watching with a Dutchman's apathy the sedgy banks, whose tall naggers bow their heads beneath the ripple that eddies from the bow—now lifting his eyes from earth to sky, with nothing to interest, nothing to attract him, turning from the gaze of the long dreary tract of bog and moorland, to look upon his fellow-travellers, whose features are perhaps neither more striking nor more pleasing—the monotonous jog of the postillion before, the impassive placidity of the helmsman behind; the lazy smoke that seems to lack energy to issue from the little chimney; the brown and leaden look of all around—have something dreamy and sleep-compelling, almost impossible to resist. And, already, as the voyager droops his head, and lets fall his eyelids, a confused and misty sense of some everlasting journey, toilsome, tedious, and slow, creeps over his besotted faculties; when suddenly the loud bray of the horn breaks upon his ears—the sound is re-echoed from a distance—the far-off tinkle of a bell is borne along the water, and he sees before him, as if conjured up by some magician's wand, the roofs and chimneys of a little village. Meanwhile the excitement about him increases: the deck is lumbered with hampers and boxes, and parcels—the note of departure to many a cloaked and frieze-coated passenger has rung; for, strange as it may seem, in that little assemblage of mud hovels, with their dunghills and duck-pools around them, with its one-slated house and its square chapel, there are people who live there; and, stranger still, some of those who have left it, and seen other places, are going back there again, to drag on life as before. But the plot is thickening: the large brass bell at the stern of the boat is thundering away with its clanging sound; the banks are crowded with people; and as if to favour the melodramatic magic of the scene, the track-rope is cast off, the weary posters trot away towards their stable, and the stately barge floats on to its destined haven without the aid of any visible influence. He who watches the look of proud, important bearing that beams upon 'the captain's' face at a moment like this, may philosophise upon the charms of that power which man wields above his fellow-men. Such, at least, were some of my reflections; and I could not help muttering to myself, if a man like this feel pride of station, what a glorious service must be the navy!