“As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled,
The pitcher it tumbled,
And all the sweet buttermilk water’d the plain.
“‘Och! what shall I do now?
’Twas looking at you now;
Sure, sure, such a pitcher I’ll ne’er meet again;
’Twas the pride of my dairy,
Och, Barney McCleary,
You’re sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine.’”
So Fitz ran on, verse after verse, and tune after tune, till he stopped for want of breath.
Highly delighted, the old pikeman insisted on shaking us all round by the hand, and then, running in, brought us out a glass of whisky each. He was much surprised to find Denis and I declined taking it. Daley, however, prevented his feelings being offended by singing another song. Then Larry gave them a second tune on the fiddle, which pleased him still more, and he set to work with Phil to put to rights the harness, which had been considerably disarranged by the prancing of our steeds.
Then he exclaimed—
“Good luck to you. You’ll give us some more tunes when you come back. Off with you now. Success! success!”
Phil lashing on the horses, away we went, laughing heartily at our adventure. We soon arrived at the castle, where we found the guests rapidly assembling. I won’t describe the ceremony. My brother and Kathleen O’Brien were indissolubly united. No sooner was it over than every one rushed forward to kiss the blushing bride, and then we all heartily congratulated each other at the happy event. My mother took charge of her new daughter-in-law, who cried a little, but, soon recovering, looked as bright and blooming as any of her fair bridesmaids.
Plum-cake and wine were then handed round, just to stay our appetites till dinner was announced,—a substantial repast, to which all did good justice. Then the ball commenced, the bride leading off the dance. It was kept up, with an interval for a hot supper, until three or four in the morning. It was lucky for me that Nora O’Flaherty, for some reason or other, was not present, or I believe that in spite of my uncle’s advice I should have forgotten my poverty and confessed my love. But there’s luck in odd numbers, and there were so many charming girls present that my heart was pretty evenly divided among them. The whole of the guests were put up in the house,—and pretty close stowing it was, but no one complained,—and, after a breakfast as substantial as the supper, we set off to return home. We purposely went back by the way we came, and greatly astonished the old pike-keeper by not only paying him his toll, but treble the value of the whisky he had bestowed on us, as well as two or three additional songs. He had by this time discovered who we were, and was profuse in his apologies for the way in which he had behaved. We assured him that he had but done his duty, and as we had chosen to pass for stage-players we could not complain of him for believing us. For a few days things went on much as usual. At last my uncle received a letter from Captain Macnamara, saying that he had not been appointed to a ship himself, but had applied to Lord Robert Altamont, who had just commissioned the Jason at Plymouth, and who had agreed to receive me on board on his recommendation. “Your nephew will meet some of his old shipmates, who, I have no doubt, will be glad to have him among them,” he added.
At first I was highly delighted at this news, but when the time came for parting I wished that I had been able to remain longer at home. It appeared to me very unlikely that I should ever see my father again, and the state of our pecuniary affairs was evidently telling on my mother, though my brave uncle was doing his utmost to keep things together. It was settled, of course, that Larry was to accompany me.
“I should like to go with you,” said my uncle; “but you’re old enough to take care of yourself, and affairs at home require my presence. Two men will, however, attend you, to look after the horses and bring them back.”
I will not describe our leave-takings a second time, or my journey to Cork. I found there was a vessel just about to sail for Plymouth, and I therefore secured berths on board her for myself and Larry. Nothing particular occurred during the passage. We dropped anchor in the Catwater at Plymouth five days after leaving Cork. I at once repaired on board the Jason, lying in Hamoaze.