Part 22 (1/2)
'More's the pity,' said I, interrupting.
'You're right,' said he, with a slight pinch of my arm, 'whether you are joking or not.'
The dinner was not a very appetising one, nor indeed the company over seductive, so that I disappeared with the cloth, glad to find myself once more in the open air, with the deck to myself; for my fellow-travellers had, one and all, begun a very vigorous attack upon sundry jugs of hot water and crucibles full of whisky, the fumes of which, added to the heat, the smoke, and other disagreeables, made me right happy to escape.
As the evening wore late, the noise and uproar grew louder and more vociferous, and, had not frequent bursts of laughter proclaimed the spirit of the conviviality, I should have been tempted to believe the party were engaged in deadly strife. Sometimes a single narrator would seem to hold the company in attentive silence; then a general chorus of the whole would break in, with shouts of merriment, knocking of knuckles on the table, stamping of feet, and other signs of approbation and applause. As this had now continued for some time, and it was already verging towards midnight, I began to grow impatient; for as sleep stole over my eyelids, I was desirous of some little quiet, to indulge myself in a nap. Blessings on my innocent delusion! the gentlemen below-stairs had as much notion of swimming as sleeping. Of this a rapid glance through a little window, at the extremity of the cabin, soon satisfied me. As well as the steamed and heated gla.s.s would permit my seeing, the scene was a strange one.
About forty persons were seated around a narrow table, so closely packed that any att.i.tude but the bolt upright was impracticable. There they were, of every age and s.e.x; some asleep with Welsh wigs and red pocket-handkerchiefs screening their heads from cold, and their ears as well as might be from uproar; some were endeavouring to read by the light of mutton candles, with wicks like a light infantry feather, with a n.o.b at the head; others, with their heads bent down together, were confidentially exchanging the secrets of the last market; while here and there were scattered about little convivial knots of jolly souls, whose noisy fun and loud laughter indicated but slight respect for their drowsy neighbours.
The group, however, which attracted most of my attention was one near the fire at the end. This consisted of his reverence Father Tom, a stout, burly-looking old farmer opposite him, the austere lady from Loughrea, and a little dried-up, potted-herring of a man, who, with a light-brown coat and standing collar, sat up perpendicularly on his seat and looked about him with an eye as lively and an accent as sharp as though it were only noonday. This little personage, who came from that Irish Pennsylvania called Moate, was endeavouring to maintain a controversy with the worthy priest, who, in addition to his polemics, was deep in a game of spoiled five with the farmer, and carrying on besides another species of warfare with his fair neighbour. The diversity of all these occupations might possibly have been overmuch for him, were it not for the aid of a suspicious-looking little kettle that sat hissing and rocking on the hob, with a look of pert satisfaction that convinced me its contents were something stronger than water.
Perceiving a small s.p.a.ce yet unoccupied in the party, I made my way thither by the stair near it, and soon had the satisfaction to find myself safely installed, without attracting any other notice from the party than a proud stare from the lady, as she removed a little farther from beside the priest.
As to his reverence, far too deeply interested in his immediate pursuits to pay any attention to me, he had quite enough on his hands with his three antagonists, none of whom did he ever for a moment permit to edge in even a word. Conducting his varied warfare with the skill of a general, who made the artillery, the infantry, and the cavalry of mutual aid and a.s.sistance to one another, he continued to keep the church, the courts.h.i.+p, and the cards all moving together, in a manner perfectly miraculous--the vehemence with which he thumped down a trump upon the table serving as a point in his argument, while the energy of the action permitted a squeeze of the lady's hand with the other.
'There ye go, six of spades! Play a spade, av ye have one, Mr.
Larkins---- For a set of shrivelled-up craytures, with nothing but thee and thou for a creed to deny the real ould ancient faith, that Saint Peter and---- The ace of diamonds! _that_ tickled you under the short ribs----- Not you, Mrs. Carney; for a sore time you have of it, and an angel of a woman ye are; and the husband that could be cruel to you, and take---- The odd trick out of you, Mr. Larkins----
No, no, I deny it--_nego in omnibus, Domine_. What does Origen say? The rock, says he, is Peter; and if you translate the pa.s.sage without---- Another kettleful, if you please. I go for the ten, Misther Larkins.
Trumps! another--another--hurroo! By the tower of Clonmacnoise, I'll beggar the bank to-night. _Malhereux au jeux, heureux en amour_, as we used to say formerly. G.o.d forgive us!'
Whether it was the French, or the look that accompanied it, I cannot aver, but certainly the lady blushed and looked down. In vain did the poor Quaker essay a word of explanation. In vain did Mrs. Carney herself try to escape from the awkward inferences some of his allusions seemed to lead to. Even the old farmer saw his tricks confiscated, and his games estreated, without a chance of recovery; for, like Coeur de Lion with his iron mace, the good priest laid about him, smas.h.i.+ng, slaying, and upsetting all before him, and never giving his adversaries a moment to recover from one blow, ere he dealt another at their heads.
'To be sure, Mrs. Carney, and why not? It's as mild as mother's milk.
Come, ould square-toes, take a thimbleful of it, and maybe it'll lead you to a better understanding. I play the five fingers, Mr. Larkins.
There goes Jack, my jewel! Play to that--the trick is mine. Don't be laughing; I've a bit of fat in the heel of my fist for you yet. There now, what are you looking at? Don't you see the cards? Troth, you 're as bad as the Quaker; you won't believe your own eyes---- And ye see, ma'am'--here he whispered something in the lady's ear for a few seconds, adding as he concluded--'and thim, Mrs. Carney, thim's the rights of the Church. Friends, indeed! ye call yourselves friends! Faix, ye're the least social friends I ever forgathered with, even if the bare look of you wasn't an antidote to all kinds of amus.e.m.e.nts---- Cut, Mr.
Larkins---- And it's purgatory ye don't like? Ye know what Father O'Leary said, ”Some of ye may go farther and fare worse,” not to speak of what a place heaven would be, with the likes of you in it---- Av it was Mrs. Carney, indeed. Yes, Mary, your own beautiful self, that's fit to be an angel any day, and discoorse with angels---- Howld, av you please, I've a club for that---- Don't you see what nonsense you're talking--the little kettle is laughing at you---- What's that you 're mumbling about my time of life? Show me the man that'll carry twelve tumblers with me; show me the man that'll cross a country; show me the man that 'll---- Never mind, Mrs. Carney---- Time of life, indeed! Faix, I'll give you a song.'
With these words, the priest pushed the cards aside, replenished the gla.s.ses, and began the following melody to an air much resembling 'Sir Roger de Coverley':--
'To-morrow I 'll just be three-score; May never worse fortune betide me Than to have a hot tumbler before, And a beautiful crayture beside me!
If this world 's a stage, as they say, And that men are the actors, I 'm certain, In the after-piece I 'd like to play, And be there at the fall of the curtain.
Whack! fol lol.
'No, no, Mrs. Carney, I'll take the vestment on it, nothing of the kind--the allusion is most discreet; but there is more.
'For the pleasures of youth are a flam; To try them again, pray excuse me; I 'd rather be priest that I am, With the rights of the Church to amuse me.
Sure, there's naught like a jolly old age, And the patriarchs knew this, it said is; For though they looked sober and sage, 'Faith, they had their own fun with the ladies!
Whack! fol lol.
'Come now, Captain, you are a man that knows his humanities; 'I be judged by you.'
'I protest,' said I laughingly, 'I'd rather p.r.o.nounce on your punch than your polemics.'
'No, would you though?' said the priest, with a joyous twinkle in his eye, that showed which controversy had more attraction for him. 'Faix, then, you shall have a fair trial. Beach me that gla.s.s, Mr. Larkins; and if it isn't sweet enough, maybe Mrs. Carney would stir it for you with her finger. There, now, we'll be comfortable and social, and have no more bother about creeds, nor councils; for although it is only child's play for me to demolish a hundred like you, I'd rather be merciful, and leave you, like Alexander the coppersmith, to get the reward of your works.'