‘Nor even brandy?’
‘No, not even brandy.’
‘Musha, I’m thinking you must be English,’ muttered he, half sulkily.
‘And if I were, is there any great harm in that?’
‘By coorse not; how could ye help it? I suppose we’d all of us be better if we could. Sit a bit more forward, your honour; the belly band does be lifting her, and as you’re doing nothing, just give her a welt of that stick in your hand, now and then, for I lost the lash off my whip, and I’ve nothing but this!’ And he displayed the short handle of what had once been a whip, with a thong of leather dangling at the end.
‘I must say I wasn’t aware that I was to have worked my passage,’ said Walpole, with something between drollery and irritation.
‘She doesn’t care for bating—stick her with the end of it. That’s the way. We’ll get on elegant now. I suppose you was never here before?’
‘No; and I think I can promise you I’ll not come again.’
‘I hope you will, then, and many a time too. This is the Bog of Allen you’re travelling now, and they tell there’s not the like of it in the three kingdoms.’
‘I trust there’s not!’