Volume Two—Chapter Three.
Lynch versus Leary.
I reached Stormy’s tent about ten o’clock; and found him waiting for me. I proposed proceeding at once towards the gaol where the condemned man was kept. I was more impatient than my companion—impatient to see whether I might identify the criminal.
“Come on!” said I, “we can talk and walk at the same time.”
The old sailor followed me out of his tent, and then led the way without speaking.
“Storm along, Stormy,” cried I, “Let me hear what you have to say.”
“It’s not much,” replied he; “I’m afraid I’ve been making a fool of myself, and you too. I saw the man yesterday, who’s going to be hung to-day. I fancied that he was the same as brought you aboard the ‘Hope’ in Dublin Bay, when you first went to sea—he that you told me was your stepfather—and who you promised to larn manners if ever you should come back, and find he had been misbehaving himself. Now it may be all my own fancy. That was so many years ago that I mightn’t remember; but I couldn’t rest satisfied, without having you see him, for yourself.”
I told Stormy that he had acted right; and that I hoped, and should be pleased, to find that he was mistaken.
Stormy’s doubts had the effect of tranquillising me a little. I was now very hungry too; and at the first restaurant in our way, I went in, and ordered some breakfast, which was eaten with an appetite I hoped never to have again—a hope that was no doubt shared by the proprietor of the restaurant.
We then pursued our journey to the place where the prisoner was under guard.