“‘But sir,’ began he.
“‘Well, then, Mr. Brail, you won’t—very well: now all I have to say is this: that the moment I can find strength to do it, I’ll stave out a plank; I’ll scuttle the vessel, that’s all; I have made up my mind, and look to yourselves now.’
“Saying these words, I again threw myself upon the ballast, and, as the gay chorus of a drinking song was wafted across me, prayed devoutly that we might all go down to the bottom. The song over, I heard a harsh, gruff voice mixing with the more civilized tones of the party, and soon perceived that Mr. Brail was recounting my proposal amid the most uproarious shouts of laughter I ever listened to. Then followed a number of pleasant suggestions for my future management; one proposing to have me tried for mutiny, and sentenced to a ducking over the side, another that I should be tarred on my back, to which latter most humane notion, the fair Agnes subscribed, averring that she was resolved upon my deserving my sobriquet of Dirk Hatteraick. My wrath was now the master even of deadly sickness. I got upon my knees, and having in vain tried to reach my legs, I struggled aft. In this posture did I reach the quarter-deck. What my intention precisely was in this excursion, I have no notion of now, but I have some very vague idea, that I meant to re-enact the curse of Kehama upon the whole party. At last I mustered strength to rise; but alas! I had scarcely reached the standing position, when a tremendous heel of the boat to one side, threw me in the gunwale, and before I was able to recover my balance, a second lurch pitched me headlong into the sea. I have, thank God, no further recollection of my misfortunes. When I again became conscious, I found myself wrapped up in a pilot-coat, while my clothes were drying: the vessel was at anchor in Wexford. My attached friends had started for town with post-horses, leaving me no less cured of love than aquatics.
“‘The Delight’ passed over in a few days, to some more favoured son of Neptune, and I hid my shame and my misfortunes by a year’s tour on the continent.”
“Although I acknowledge,” said Trevanion, “that hitherto I have reaped no aid from Mr. O’Leary’s narrative, yet I think it is not without a moral.”
“Well, but,” said I, “he has got another adventure to tell us; we have quite time for it, so pray pass the wine and let us have it.”
“I have just finished the burgundy,” said O’Leary, “and if you will ring for another flask, I have no objection to let you hear the story of my second love.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MR. O’LEARY’S SECOND LOVE.
