And sent him to take a ground sweat.
William Maher (?) (fl. 1780).
DARBY DOYLE’S VOYAGE TO QUEBEC.
I tuck the road, one fine morning in May, from Inchegelagh, an’ got up to the Cove safe an’ sound. There I saw many ships with big broad boords fastened to ropes, every one ov them saying, “The first vessel for Quebec.” Siz I to myself, those are about to run for a wager; this one siz she’ll be first, and that one siz she’ll be first. At any rate I pitched on one that was finely painted. When I wint on boord to ax the fare, who shou’d come up out ov a hole but Ned Flinn, an ould townsman ov my own.
“Och, is it yoorself that’s there, Ned?” siz I; “are ye goin’ to Amerrykey?”
“Why, an’ to be shure,” sez he; “I’m mate ov the ship.”
“Meat! that’s yer sort, Ned,” siz I; “then we’ll only want bread. Hadn’t I betther go and pay my way?”
“You’re time enough,” siz Ned; “I’ll tell you when we’re ready for sea—leave the rest to me, Darby.”
“Och, tip us your fist,” siz I; “you were always the broath of a boy; for the sake ov ould times, Ned, we must have a dhrop ov drink, and a bite to ate.” So, my jewel, Ned brought me to where there was right good stuff. When it got up to three o’clock I found myself mighty weak with hunger. I got the smell ov corn-beef an’ cabbage that knock’d me up entirely. I then wint to the landlady, and siz I to her, “Maybee your leddyship ’id not think me rood by axin iv Ned an’ myself cou’d get our dinner ov that fine hot mate that I got a taste ov in my nose?” “In throath you can,” siz she (an’ she look’d mighty pleasant), “an’ welkim.” So my darlin’ dish and all came up. “That’s what I call a flaugholoch[8] mess,” siz I. So we ate and drank away.
