The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Thus Norah argued with her father.

“But Mrs Massey—what will she do without you?” he asked.

“She would not detain me. Am not I going to assist in the search for her son, as well as in that for Gerald?” answered Norah. “Were I Owen Massey’s younger brother, she would not hesitate to send me; she will not do so now. She has too long lived a life of solitude to object to being left for a few short months, especially when she can hope that Owen may be found.”

Norah had gained her point. The old captain was really thankful to have her society, and so often had he braved the dangers of the sea that he no longer feared them for his daughter. Firm as the captain was in his opinion, few others agreed with him; and when it was known that he was looking out for a ship, most of his acquaintance pitied him, and whispered that the loss of his son had turned his head. Still, nothing any one could say changed his resolution; indeed, there was something grand in his very obstinacy, and worthy of admiration. The only person who stuck to him was Captain O’Brien.

“If I were a younger man, faith, I’d be after going out as mate,” exclaimed the brave old captain. “Whether the lads are alive or dead, the point will be settled, and I am fain to believe that they are still alive. If I can’t go myself, I’ll prove my faith in the undertaking by subscribing five hundred pounds towards it. The sooner you get the ship fitted out and put to sea, the better it will be for my friend Norah—of that I’m very sure.”

Though the two old captains were thus of one mind, no one else agreed with them. The house of Ferris, Twigg, and Cash would have nothing to do with the matter; they were not inclined to send good money after bad, and unless they could gain some information, however slight, that the Ouzel Galley was really in existence, they should consider it folly to send another vessel to look for her. They would not even help in searching for a fitting vessel. Captain Tracy, however, heard of one which had been brought into Cork harbour as a prize, and, accompanied by his friend O’Brien, he went over to have a look at her. She was just the vessel they wanted; she was ship-rigged, carried twenty guns, and was quite new, having been only a few weeks out of port when she was captured. She was of great beam, and would carry four or six more guns, if necessary. The purchase was soon completed; and the two captains, having engaged a few hands to navigate her, brought her round to Waterford, where she could be fitted out under their own eyes. One of the points to be settled was her name. Captain O’Brien, bowing to Norah, proposed that she should be called Love’s Messenger; but to this Norah objected, and it was finally settled that she should be called the Research. The captain had devoted Gerald’s prize-money, and the whole sum he had at his own disposal, and the amount contributed by Captain O’Brien; but still a sum was required for ammunition, stores, and the wages of the crew. Captain Tracy was in a dilemma; he might obtain a cargo for the vessel, but then he would have to wait for a convoy, as no insurance could otherwise be effected on her, and that would cause a delay. Rather than suffer this, he resolved to sell his patrimony, though very unwilling to do so. Captain O’Brien, who had formerly traded to Bristol, had gone over to that port to look out for efficient officers and any good men he could find to form part of the crew; the remainder could be obtained at Waterford.

Captain Tracy was setting off one morning, resolved to make the final arrangements with his lawyer for the disposal of his property, when just as he left his house he was accosted by a man, whose ragged dress, shoeless feet, and thin cheeks showed that he was suffering from the extreme of poverty. Captain Tracy’s well-practised eye convinced him at once, before the man had spoken, that he was a sailor, and believing that he came to beg, he put his hand into his pocket to relieve his necessities, when the man, touching his battered hat, addressed him, “Plase, yer honour, are you Captain Tracy?”

“I am. What is it you want with me?” asked the captain.

“Shure, I’m glad to hear it, for I’ve been looking for yer honour for many a day,” answered the man, “as I’ve made a vow, if you were still in the land of the living, to give you a message from a dying shipmate, and my mind couldn’t rest aisy till I’d done it.”

“What’s the message, my friend? Is it a long or a short one?” asked the captain, eyeing the man steadily, to judge whether he was speaking with sincerity or uttering a falsehood. “What ship did you belong to, my friend?”