Part 10 (1/2)
Question after question followed; but Paul was unable to convince the coast-guard that he had left the s.h.i.+p voluntarily and had landed in safety. The guard could not understand why any man should leave a vessel and come in on the coast of Ireland in such a gale unless he was s.h.i.+pwrecked. He thought Paul's brain had been injured by concussion with the rocks and a pitying expression came over his face as he said:
”Well, me poor fellow, 'ts no matther where ye're frum. It's me duty to help ye and yure mates an' if ye'll only tell me phere they air Oi'll collect the b'ys an' have thim out. Now tell me as calmly as ye can, how many is drohwned besides yureself?”
Paul saw his mistake and positively a.s.sured the guard that he was the only person to land, and that there had been no wreck and that the steamer had proceeded on her way to Queenstown. Notwithstanding all his protestations the coast guard could not realize the situation. The man before him was, however s.h.i.+pwrecked and in distress, so with the proverbial hospitality for which the Irish are famous, the guard said:
”Niver moind me lad how ye came ashure. Ye look tired enough. Come in here an' lay near the fire.”
When Paul entered the warm room he removed his uncouth costume. He was thoroughly worn out buffeting the waves and with his long tramp down the road, so he gladly accepted the proferred bunk close to the fire and was soon in a sound sleep from which he was awakened by a kindly voice saying:
”Here me poor fellow, take this, 't will do ye good.”
Before Paul could realize it he had poured a gla.s.s of whiskey down his throat, the strength of which raised every individual hair on his head.
It was then about eight o'clock in the morning and the coast guard house was full of the villagers, men and women who curiously crowded around his bunk. They were a wild looking lot. Paul noticed the women particularly. They looked strong and rosy. They all wore long cloaks with a hood covering the head, and their feet were naked and as red as a pigeon's. From the expressions he overheard, he concluded that the coast-guard man had drawn on his imagination in explaining the stranger's appearance in the station.
”Did he railly swim from New York?” he heard time and again.
”Oh, thin he's not human if he could do that,” and many other exclamations of like nature greeted the astonished Paul as he drowsily turned out of the bunk.
The coast-guard man now approached and driving the curious villagers out of the station, he invited him to breakfast in a little tavern across the way. The entire village was out. Crowds blocked their way as they crossed the street. While eating breakfast Paul learned that the most of the excitement was created by a report that he had swam all the way from New York. In conversation with the guard, he found out that the village was called Baltimore, a little coast town about thirty miles from where he had left the steamer; and also that there was no telegraph office nearer than Skibbereen, a distance of nine miles. There was but one conveyance in the village and as the driver was a very eccentric character, it was doubtful if he could be induced to go out on such a stormy morning. Paul requested that this man be sent for. Soon afterward he appeared pus.h.i.+ng his way through the villagers. He was a strange looking man. The coast guard introduced him:
”Here is Andy,” said he.
The latter acknowledged the introduction, by pulling his head forward with a lock of hair and exclaiming, as he eyed Paul curiously:
”Did ye railly swim from New Yark'”
Paul laughed, saying: ”I hear you have a horse and I am anxious to get over to Skibbereen and send off a telegram. I would like to have you take me over there.”
”It's no ha.r.s.e Oi have,” he solemnly responded, ”but Oi've wan av the finest mares in the south av Ireland an Oi'll drive ye over for six s.h.i.+llin'. But did ye railly swim from New Yark? Shure it's not natural.”
Paul urged him to get his animal as quickly as possible and the driver rushed through the door only to be surrounded by a group of wild looking villagers, who questioned him both in Irish and English. Soon after Andy re-appeared coming down the village street driving a sorry looking nag. As he approached the tavern and saw Paul and the guard at the door, he shouted loudly to the crowd to separate, as though wis.h.i.+ng to show Paul the blood in his favorite mare. He punched her with a little stick from which the sharp point of a nail protruded and by a dexterous movement dodged the flying hind feet that were aimed at his head.
”Phat de ye think o' that, sur? There's blood fur ye.” A murmur of admiration stirred the crowd.
”But where is your cart? Hurry up and get her hitched,” urged Paul.
Soon after Andy drove up to the door of the coast guard station with his jaunting car. The mare was. .h.i.tched to the car with a curious combination of harness composed of twisted hay, rope, cords and leather.
As nearly every one knows, a jaunting car is a two-wheeled affair.
Over each wheel runs a seat, fore and aft, and in the centre is a little receptacle for small baggage, called the well. A car generally carries four pa.s.sengers, two on each side. On such occasions, the driver sits on a little seat over the well, looking to the front, while the pa.s.sengers' backs are turned toward each other. Having only one pa.s.senger, Andy decided to sit on the opposite side of the car to ballast her evenly. After Paul bid good-bye to the coast guard and thanked him for his hospitality, he placed his rubber suit on the forward part of the seat and sprung up behind. Andy seemed in no hurry to get under way. A mult.i.tude of knots in the harness required attention and he carefully scrutinized every part of the car while the villagers kept up a volley of comments such as: ”Shure it's a quare customer ye have this mornin', Andy my b'y. The Lord betune ye an'
harrum, Andy avick. Shure it's no human bein' ye're drivin' away wid.”
And many other remarks made in Irish, no doubt, of the same encouraging character.
”Come, come,” exclaimed Paul impatiently, ”let us get off?”
Andy reluctantly clambered on the opposite seat and commenced driving slowly up the village street, followed by a loud huzza. He seemed ill at ease and was loth to leave, driving so slowly that Paul had to urge him on. Reaching the last house on the straggling village street, he stopped the car and turning to Paul said: ”Oi want to get a light fur my pipe, sur.”
After a little time, during which Paul heard a vehement conversation going on inside, Andy re-appeared holding a coal of fire on the bowl of his clay pipe. He remounted again and slowly drove away followed by the shrill blessings and good wishes of the barefooted woman that stood at the door. Their way now lay along the cliff-road and squall after squall came bearing in from a roaring sea outside. At times Andy would reach across when the booming of the breakers could be heard coming up through ravine on the cliffs and say: