'“It's little I care,” said I; “if it couldn't keep out the sheriff it may let in the storm, if it pleases.”
'“Murther! murther!” said he, wringing his hands, “I wish we were at say! It's a cruel thing to have one's life perilled this way.”
'While we were talking, a gossoon burst into the room with the news that the Milford packet had just gone ashore somewhere below the Hook Tower, adding, as is always the case on such occasions, that they were all drowned.
'I jumped up at this, put on my shooting-shoes, buttoned up my frieze coat, and followed by Dan, took a short cut over the hills towards Passage, where I now found the packet had been driven in. Before we had gone half a mile I heard the voices of some country-people coming up the road towards me; but it was so dark you couldn't see your hand.
'“Who's there?” said I.
'“Tim Molloy, your honour,” was the answer.
'“What's the matter, Tim?” said I. “Is there anything wrong?”
'“Nothing, sir, glory be to God—it's only the corpse of the gentleman that was drowned there below.”
'“I ain't dead, I tell you; I'm only faint,” called out a shrill voice.
'“He says he's better,” said Tim; “and maybe it's only the salt water that's in him; and, faix, when we found him, there was no more spark in him than in a wet sod.”