“He’s rowing dry, your honour—only making bilave.”
“Do you call this rowing dry?” cried another, as a sea swept over the boat, fore and aft, wetting every body to the skin.
“Now, your honour, just look and see if I a’n’t pulling the very arms off me?” cried Sullivan.
“Is there water enough to cross the bridge, Swinburne?” said I to the coxswain.
“Plenty, Mr Simple; it is but quarter ebb, and the sooner we are on board the better.”
We were now past Devil’s Point, and the sea was very heavy: the boat plunged in the trough, so that I was afraid that we should break her back. She was soon half full of water, and the two after oars were laid in for the men to bale. “Plase your honour, hadn’t I better cut free the legs of them ducks and geese, and allow them to swim for their lives?” cried Sullivan, resting on his oar; “the poor birds will be drowned else in their own iliment.”
“No, no—pull away as hard as you can.”
By this time the drunken men in the bottom of the boat began to be very uneasy, from the quantity of water which washed about them, and made several staggering attempts to get on their legs. They fell down again upon the ducks and geese, the major part of which were saved from being drowned by being suffocated. The sea on the Bridge was very heavy: and although the tide swept us out, we were nearly swamped. Soft bread was washing about the bottom of the boat; the parcels of sugar, pepper, and salt, were wet through with the salt water, and a sudden jerk threw the captain’s steward, who was seated upon the gunwale close to the after-oar, right upon the whole of the crockery and eggs, which added to the mass of destruction. A few more seas shipped completed the job, and the gun-room steward was in despair. “That’s a darling!” cried Sullivan: “the politest boat in the whole fleet. She makes more bows and curtsys than the finest couple in the land. Give way, my lads, and work the crater stuff out of your elbows, and the first lieutenant will see us all so sober, and so wet in the bargain, and think we’re all so dry, that perhaps he’ll be after giving us a raw nip when we get on board.”
In a quarter of an hour we were nearly alongside, but the men pulled so badly, and the sea was so great, that we missed the ship, and went astern. They veered out a buoy with a line, which we got hold of, and were hauled up by the marines and after guard, the boat plunging bows under, and drenching us through and through. At last we got under the counter, and I climbed up by the stern ladder. Mr Falcon was on deck, and very angry at the boat not coming alongside properly. “I thought, Mr Simple, that you knew by this time how to bring a boat alongside.”
“So I do, sir, I hope,” replied I; “but the boat was so full of water, and the men would not give way.”