"When your mother goes, which, with the blessing of God, will be in a very little while, seeing that she has only to follow her senses, which are gone already, I'll take upon myself to sell everything, as worldly goods and chattels are of no use to dead people; and I have no doubt but that, what with the furniture and the two cows, and the pigs, and the crops in the ground, there will be enough to save her soul from the flames, and bury her dacently into the bargain. However, as you are the heir-at-law, seeing that the property is all your own, I'll keep a debtor and creditor account of the whole; and should there be any over, I'll use it all out in masses, so as to send her up to heaven by express; and if there's not sufficient, she must remain where she is till you come back and make up the deficiency. In the meanwhile I am your loving father in the faith,
"URTAGH M'GRATH."
Chapter LII
Good sense in Swinburne—No man a hero to his valet de chambre, or a prophet in his own country—O'Brien takes a step by strategy—O'Brien parts with his friend, and Peter's star no longer in the ascendant.
O'Brien was sorry for the death of his father, but he could not feel as most people would have done, as his father had certainly never been a father to him. He was sent to sea to be got rid of, and ever since he had been there, had been the chief support of his family; his father was very fond of whiskey, and not very fond of exertion. He was too proud of the true Milesian blood in his veins to do anything to support himself, but not too proud to live upon his son's hard-earned gains. For his mother O'Brien felt very much; she had always been kind and affectionate, and was very fond of him. Sailors, however, are so estranged from their families when they have been long in their profession and so accustomed to vicissitudes, that no grief for the loss of a relation lasts very long, and in a week O'Brien had recovered his usual spirits, when a vessel brought us the intelligence that a French squadron had been seen off St Domingo. This put us all on the qui vive. O'Brien was sent for by the admiral, and ordered to hasten his brig for sea with all possible despatch, as he was to proceed with despatches to England forthwith. In three days we were reported ready, received our orders, and at eight o'clock in the evening made sail from Carlisle Bay. "Well, Mr Swinburne," said I, "how do you like your new situation?"
"Why, Mr Simple, I like it well enough; and it's not disagreeable to be an officer, and sit in your own cabin; but still I feel that I should get on better if I were in another ship. I've been hail-fellow well met with the ship's company so long, that I can't top the officer over them, and we can't get the duty done as smart as I could wish: and then at night I find it very lonely stuck up in my cabin like a parson's clerk, and nobody to talk to; for the other warrants are particular, and say that I'm only acting, and may not be confirmed, so they hold aloof. I don't much like being answerable for all that lot of gunpowder—it's queer stuff to handle."
"Very true, Swinburne; but still, if there were no responsibility, we should require no officers. You recollect that you are now provided for life, and will have half-pay."
"That's what made me bite, Mr Simple. I thought of the old woman, and how comfortable it would make her in her old age; and so, d'ye see, I sacrificed myself."
"How long have you been married, Swinburne?"
"Ever since Christmas '94. I wasn't going to be hooked carelessly, so I nibbled afore I took the bait. Had four years' trial of her first, and, finding that she had plenty of ballast, I sailed her as my own."