I seized his hand so eagerly at this news as almost to startle him.
“Watch her helm, she’s falling away,” said he, almost sharply. “Ay, she’s back, but no nearer your reach for that. I hear Gorman has become a rich man since. The English estates that belonged to the master of Kilgorman have yielded a great profit, and besides that he has got hold of the Lestrange property too. The young lady is an heiress, and this Captain Lestrange you spoke of, who saved them out of Paris, is not likely to lose the chance of getting a wife and his family estates back into the bargain. Don’t be a fool, Barry. You and I are only sailor lads. It does not become us to be hankering after heiresses. But the freedom of Ireland we may and must strive for; and, Barry, brother,” (and what a whack he caught me on my back), “we’ll get it!”
I turned in that night with my head in a whirl. It seemed as if every joy I had was destined to crumble in my hand. No sooner had I found my little lady in Paris than a cruel hand swept us asunder. No sooner had I found my brother than I found him estranged from me in a hopeless cause. No sooner had I heard of the safety of her I loved than I heard she was lifted further out of my reach than ever. I could have wished I had never met Tim again. I should at least have slept better had I lain in my bunk with no thought but that of the French coast dropping league by league astern. Now, even Ireland seemed to have its terrors ahead.
But sleep came to my rescue, and with sleep came courage and hope. Why should I be afraid? What had I to hang my head at? Was I, who had come through a reign of terror, going to mope at troubles in advance? Sufficient unto the day should be the evil thereof!
So I met Tim with a smile in the morning, and asked him to report me to Captain Keogh.
That worthy officer had quite slept off the debauch of last night, and was apparently looking forward to the next, for a bottle of rum stood on the cabin table. He had not the slightest recollection of me, but when he heard I was his lieutenant’s brother, he poured out three glasses and proposed luck all round.
“Sit down, Gallagher,” said he to Tim. “I can’t ask your brother to sit, for the sake of the discipline of the ship; but I’m pleased to see him, and if he’s a handy lad like you I’ll make a seaman of him.”
“Barry’s worth any dozen of the likes of me,” said Tim, “when it comes to sailing. If any one can get an extra tack out of the old Kestrel, he can.”
“Don’t talk disrespectfully of your ship, lieutenant,” said Captain Keogh. “To be sure, the carpenter has been pestering me this morning about the timbers; but I told him he’d probably only make things worse by patching. You can’t put new wine into old bottles, you know,”—here he poured himself out a fresh glass—“and we shall hold well enough together till we reach Bantry.”
“Sligo,” said Tim.