“Bedad, your honour, we’ll be after keeping a sharp look-out on the fellows, and if any one of them shows his ugly face in the neighbourhood, we’ll be down upon him as quick as lightning,” said Dan.
“But if you don’t know the men—and from what I understand, you only saw their backs in the gloom—you will find a considerable difficulty in recognising them,” observed Mr Ferris, “and may chance to lay hands on the wrong persons.”
“Shure, your honour, we’ll ask them if they’re the right ones before we give them a taste of the shillelagh,” answered Dan.
“At all events, Connor, I wish you, and a dozen stout fellows you may pick out, to act as a guard at my house, to protect my daughter and her friend, should any yet more daring attempt be made to carry them off,” replied Mr Ferris.
“I’ll do that same with all the pleasure in life,” answered Dan, “though it may be a hard matter to keep our eyes open to-night, seeing we were waking Pat Casey till a late hour this morning, and then, after seeing him laid dacently under the turf, had to drink long life and success to his sperrit and a short stay in purgatory, where the praste told us he had gone—though, being a kind-hearted man, he’d do his best to pray him out of it.”
“I have no fear of any fresh attempt being made to-night, so you may all sleep soundly in your beds,” said Mr Ferris; “but I shall require you to-morrow, and for some time to come after that, while I remain at Waterford.”
In those days the dinner-hour, even in the houses of the opulent, was at two o’clock, and some time before that two well-manned boats, from the stern of which floated the British ensign, reached the quay at Waterford. Only three officers, however, stepped on shore, the captain and two others, whom he introduced as his lieutenants to Mr Ferris, who went down to meet him. All were dressed in uniforms closely resembling that of the British navy, for such privateersmen were wont to wear. Captain Dupin, who spoke with a slight French accent, as most Jersey men did at that period, was a fair, good-looking young man, with a somewhat short though well-knit figure, his countenance betoking courage and determination. His first lieutenant, whom he introduced as Mr Macarthy, was a man of a very different mould. His well-bronzed features were concealed by a large beard and moustache, while a black patch over one eye, and another down his cheek, showing that he had suffered in the fight, did not add to the attractiveness of his appearance.
“As he is a countryman of yours, he was anxious to avail himself of your invitation, though scarcely recovered from wounds he received is our last action with a French ship, which we captured after a determined resistance,” observed the captain. “He was shot through the mouth, which considerably impedes his speech; but he will be able notwithstanding to do justice to your good fare, as I have no doubt you will perceive.”
Mr Macarthy shook hands with Mr Ferris, and expressed his satisfaction at finding himself once more on his native soil.
“It is many a long year since I left the old country, and from that time till I landed a few months ago in Jersey I have been knocking about in distant seas,” said the lieutenant. “Although Ballyadare, in Sligo, is my native place, I have more than once in my younger days visited Waterford, and this is not the first time I have been on shore at your beautiful town. Faith, sir, it is a place to boast of; so fine a river, such magnificent quays, and that old tower I see there—I forget its name—where will you find the like?”