‘It’s a sevare day, yer honour,’ said he, politely touching his hat. ‘God be good to them that’s at sea on an evening like that.’
‘It is very stormy, indeed; but I think the worst of it is now over.’
‘God sind it, thin, for it’s hard times for the fishermen; though it’s mighty good for the stillin’.’
‘Good for the stilling!’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Why, I mane there’s little fear of “the boys” being interrupted in weather like that.’
‘Interrupted at what?’
‘Why, at the stillin’, av coorse; and by the same token, yonder they’re at it;’ and he pointed to the little island already referred to, now partially disrobed of its mist.
‘Do you mean to say that there is illicit distillation now going on at that island?’
‘Faix and you’ve just guessed it; and sure it comes mighty handy, by rayson that the fair is on Monday.’
I need not weary the reader with all that passed between me and my chance companion, whom I recognised as Mickey Mehaffey, a hanger-on about one of the hotels in the town. From Mickey I learned that the inhabitants of Innismurry consisted of about a score of families, who obtained a living by fishing and illicit distillation, and I grieve to say, chiefly by the latter. There were no police on the island, and as in stormy weather it was wholly unapproachable from the mainland, they could carry on their nefarious business without fear of ‘disturbance.’ At other times their scouts could give at least half-an-hour’s warning of approaching danger, and this was sufficient to enable them to secrete their contraband goods before the ‘inimy’ arrived. And when hard pressed, the Atlantic always formed a safe and capacious storehouse. They had also their agents and confederates on the mainland, who assisted them to land and dispose of the poteen prior to fairs, wakes, and marriages, these being the favourite channels of ‘home consumption.’