Gerald had to return with Lieutenant Foley to the Champion, while the Ouzel Galley, having taken a pilot on board, at once ran up the harbour, when Norah and her father proceeded to Mr Ferris’s. The arrival of the Ouzel Galley was hailed with great satisfaction by Mr Ferris; still more so was the news Norah gave Ellen, that the Champion was one of the ships of war appointed to convoy the Ouzel Galley and the other merchant vessels to the West Indies. All diligence was used in discharging her cargo and taking a fresh one on board; and in shorter time than usual, thanks to the assistance rendered by her old captain, she was ready for sea. Owen had the happiness of spending the evenings with Norah, and Ellen was the better able to dispense with her society as Lieutenant Foley managed frequently to get on shore, bringing Gerald with him. Their time, however, was not always passed so agreeably, as they had on several occasions to take charge of the pressgangs sent on shore to pick up men, and more than once they were engaged in pretty severe encounters with the unwilling seamen whom it was their duty to capture.
Mr Foley and the young midshipman were spending the evening at Mr Ferris’s, when they were summoned out.
“We must wish you good night,” said the lieutenant to Ellen, returning; “we have some duty to attend to, and shall afterwards have to go on board our ship.”
The ladies came into the hall, and were somewhat astonished at the garb which the two officers quickly assumed. Over their neat uniforms they put on large Flushing trousers, thick coats of the same material buttoned up to their throats, round which they tied large comforters, while on their heads they wore weather-beaten sou’-westers. A cutlass, buckled on by a leathern belt in which a brace of pistols were stuck, showed that they were about to proceed on an expedition in which rough play might be expected.
“Where are you going?” asked Ellen, in some trepidation.
“Only to obtain a few loyal seamen to serve his Majesty,” answered the lieutenant. “The fellows don’t know their true interests, and may perhaps offer some opposition; but don’t be alarmed—we hope to be on shore to-morrow to give a good account of ourselves.”
The lieutenant and midshipman set off under the guidance of the captain’s coxswain, a Dublin man, who had come for them. Proceeding to a public-house on one of the lower quays, they found a dozen seamen dressed and armed as they were. The lieutenant having given them directions, they followed him and his guide to that part of Dublin known as the “Liberties,” inhabited by the dregs of the population. The night was dark; no lamps illumined that part of the town. The lantern carried by Larry Flynn, the coxswain, enabled the party to thread their way through several narrow streets till they reached a house, at the door of which he stopped.
“This is it, yer honour,” said Larry; “but we must be mighty quick, or they’ll be after escaping along the tiles.”
On this he gave a gentle knock at the door. “Hist! Mother O’Flanigan, open the door, or I’ll be taken hold of by the watchmen,” he whispered through the keyhole, as he heard a step within.
“Who is it?” asked the voice.