“Bloody wars! Ned,” siz I, “does this mean your humble sarvint?” “Divil another,” siz he. So I makes no more ado, than with a hop, skip, and jump gets over to the captin, who was now talkin’ to the yallow fellow that was afther starin’ me out ov countenance. “Pardon my roodness, your honour,” siz I, mighty polite, and makin’ a bow,—at the same time Ned was at my heels—so risin’ my foot to give the genteel scrape, shure I scraped all the skin off Ned’s shins. “May bad luck to your brogues,” siz he. “You’d betther not curse the wearer,” siz I, “or—— ” “Oh, Darby!” siz the captin, “don’t be unginteel, an’ so many ladies and gintlemen lookin’ at ye.” “The never another mother’s soul shall lay their peepers on me till I see sweet Inchegelagh agen,” siz I. “Begar, ye are doin’ it well. How much money have ye gother for my shwimmin’?” “Be quiet, Darby,” siz the captin, an’ he look’d very much frickened; “I have plenty, an’ I’ll have more for ye if ye do what I want ye to do.” “An’ what is it, avic?” siz I. “Why, Darby,” siz he, “I’m afther houldin’ a wager last night with this gintleman for all the worth ov my ship, that you’ll shwim agen any shwimmer in the world; an’ Darby, if ye don’t do that, I’m a gone man.” “Augh, give us your fist,” siz I; “did ye ever hear ov Paddies disheving any man in the European world yet—barrin’ themselves?” “Well, Darby,” siz he, “I’ll give you a hundred dollars; but, Darby, you must be to your word, an’ you shall have another hundred.” So sayin’, he brought me down into the cellar; but, my jewel, I didn’t think for the life of me to see sich a wondherful place—nothin’ but goold every way I turn’d, an’ Darby’s own sweet face in twenty places. Begar, I was a’most ashamed to ax the gintleman for the dollars. “But,” siz I to myself agen, “the gintleman has too much money, I suppose, he does be throwin’ it into the sea, for I often heard the sea was much richer than the land, so I may as well take it, anyhow.” “Now, Darby,” siz he, “here’s the dollars for ye.” But, begar, it was only a bit of paper he was handin’ me. “Arrah, none ov yer thricks upon thravellers,” siz I; “I had betther nor that, an’ many more ov them, melted in the sea; give me what won’t wash out ov my pocket” “Why, Darby,” siz he, “this is an ordher on a marchant for the amount.” “Pho, pho!” siz I, “I’d sooner take your word nor his oath,” lookin’ round mighty respectful at the goold walls. “Well, Darby,” siz he, “ye must have the raal thing.” So, by the powthers, he reckoned me out a hundred dollars in goold. I never saw the like since the stockin’ fell out of the chimley on my aunt and cut her forred. “Now, Darby,” siz he, “ye are a rich man, and ye are worthy ov it all—sit down, Darby, an’ take a bottle ov wine.” So to please the gintleman I sat down. Afther a bit, who comes down but Ned. “Captin,” siz he, “the deck is crowded; I had to block up the gangway to prevint any more from comin’ in to see Darby. Bring him up, or blow me if the ship won’t be sunk.” “Come up, Darby,” siz the captin, lookin’ roguish pleasant at myself. So, my jewel, he handed me up through the hall, as tendher as if I was a lady, or a pound ov fresh butther in the dog days.
“I WAS MADE TO PEEL OFF BEHIND A BIG SHEET.”
When I got up, shure enough I couldn’t help starin’; sich crowds of fine ladies and yallow gintlemen never was seen before in any ship. One ov them, a little rosy-cheeked beauty, whispered the captin somethin’, but he shuk his head, and then came over to me. “Darby,” siz he, “I know an Irishman would do anything to please a lady.” “In throth you may say that with your own ugly mouth,” siz I. “Well, then, Darby,” siz he, “the ladies would wish to see you give a few sthrokes in the sea.” “Och, an’ they shall have them, an’ welkim,” siz I. “That’s a good fellow,” siz he; “now strip off.” “Decency, captin,” siz I; “is it in my mother-naked pelt before the ladies? Bad luck to the undacent brazen-faced—but no matther! Irish girls for ever, afther all!” But all to no use. I was made to peel off behind a big sheet, and then I made one race an’ jump’d ten yards into the wather to get out of their sight. Shure enough, every one’s eyes danced in their head, while they look’d on the spot where I went down. A thought came into my head while I was below, how I’d show them a little divarsion, as I could use a great many thricks on the wather. So I didn’t rise at all till I got to the other side, an’ every one run to that side; then I took a hoult ov my two big toes, an’ makin’ a ring ov myself, rowled like a hoop on the top ov the wather all round the ship. I b’leeve I opened their eyes! Then I yarded, back swum, an’ dived, till at last the captin made signs for me to come out so I got into the boat an’ threw on my duds. The very ladies were breakin’ their necks runnin’ to shake hands with me. “Shure,” siz they, “you’re the greatest man in the world!!” So for three days I showed off to crowds ov people, though I was fryin’ in the wather for shame.
At last the day came that I was to stand the tug. I saw the captin lookin’ very often at me. At last, “Darby,” siz he, “are you any way cow’d? The fellow you have to shwim agenst can shwim down watherfalls an’ catharacts.” “Can he, avic?” says I; “but can he shwim up agenst them? Wow, wow, Darby, for that. But, captin, come here; is all my purvisions ready? don’t let me fall short ov a dhrop ov the raal stuff above all things.” An’ who should come up while I was tawkin’ to the captin but the chap I was to shwim with, an’ heard all I sed. Begar! his eyes grew as big as two oysther-shells. Then the captin called me aside. “Darby,” siz he, “do you put on this green jacket an’ white throwsers, that the people may betther extinguish you from the other chap.” “With all hearts, avic,” siz I; “green for ever! Darby’s own favourite colour the world over; but where am I goin’ to, captin?” “To the swhimmin’ place, to be shure,” siz he. “Divil shoot the failers an’ take the hindmost,” siz I; “here’s at ye.” I was then inthrojuiced to the shwimmer. I looked at him from head to foot. He was so tall he could eat bread an’ butther over my head—with a face as yallow as a kite’s foot. “Tip us the mitten, ma bouchal” siz I (but, begad, I was puzzled. “Begar,” siz I to myself, “I’m done. Cheer up, Darby. If I’m not able to kill him, I’ll fricken the life out ov him.”) “Where are we goin’ to shwim to?” But never a word he answered. “Are ye bothered, neighbour?” “I reckon I’m not,” siz he, mighty chuff. “Well, then,” siz I, “why didn’t ye answer your betthers? What ’ud ye think if we shwum to Keep Cleer or the Keep ov Good Hope?” “I reckon neither,” siz he agen, eyein’ me as if I was goin’ to pick his pockets. “Well, then, have ye any favourite place?” siz I. “Now, I’ve heard a great deal about the place where poor Boney died; I’d like to see it, if I’d any one to show me the place; suppose we wint there?” Not a taste ov a word could I get out ov him, good or bad. Off we set through the crowds ov ladies and gintlemen. Sich cheerin’ an’ wavin’ ov hats was never seen even at Dan’s[11] enthry; an’ then the row ov purty girls laughin’ an’ rubbin’ up agenst me, that I could har’ly get on. To be shure, no one could be lookin’ to the ground, an’ not be lookin’ at them, till at last I was thript up by a big loomp ov iron stuck fast in the ground with a big ring to it. “Whoo, Darby!” siz I, makin’ a hop an’ a crack ov my finger, “you’re not down yet.” I turn’d round to look at what thript me.
“What d’ye call that?” siz I to the captin, who was at my elbow.
“Why, Darby,” siz he, “that’s half an anchor.”
“Have ye any use for it?” siz I.
“Not in the least,” siz he; “it’s only to fasten boats to.”
“Maybee you’d give it to a body,” siz I.