Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I. Lever Charles James
favor of their truth, and, to such a reasoner as I was, a no less cogent argument for the goodness of the cause that elicited such virtues.
As the boat came alongside, I remarked that the deck was without a passenger. Heaps of trunks and luggage littered it the entire way; but the severity of the weather had driven every one under cover, except the steersman and the captain, who, both of them wrapped up in thick coats of frieze, seemed like huge bears standing on their hindquarters.
“How are you, Darby?” shouted the skipper. “Call out that lazy rascal to open the lock.”
“I don’t think he’s at home, sir,” said Darby, as innocently as though he knew nothing of the reason for his absence.
“Not at home! The scoundrel, where can he be, then? Come, youngster,” cried he, addressing me, “take the key there, and open the lock.”
Until this moment, I forgot the character which my dress and appearance assigned to me. But a look from the piper recalled me at once to recollection; and taking up the iron key, I proceeded, under Darby’s instructions, to do what I was desired, while Darby and the captain amused themselves by wondering what had become of Tim, and speculated on the immediate consequences his absence would bring down on him.
“Are you going with us, Darby?” said the captain.
“Faix, I don’t know, sir,” said he, as if hesitating. “Ar there was any gentleman that liked the pipes – ”
“Yes, yes; come along, man,” rejoined the skipper. “Is the boy with you? Very well; come in, youngster.”
We were soon under way again; and Darby, having arranged his instrument to his satisfaction, commenced a very spirited voluntary to announce his arrival. In an instant the cabin door opened, and a red-faced, coarse-looking fellow, in uniform, called out, —
“Halloo, there! is that a piper?”
“Yes, sir,” said Darby, without turning his face round; while, at the same time, he put a question in Irish to the skipper, who answered it with a single word.
“I say, piper, come down here!” cried the yeoman, for such he was, – “come down here, and let ‘s have a tune!”
“I ‘m coming, sir!” cried Darby, standing up; and holding out his hand to me, he called out, – “Tom, alannah, lead me down stairs.”
I looked up in his face, and to my amazement perceived that he had turned up the white of his eyes to represent blindness, and was groping with his hand like one deprived of sight. As any hesitation on my part might have betrayed him at once, I took his hand, and led him along, step by step, to the cabin door.
I had barely time to perceive that all the passengers were habited in uniform, when one of them called out, – “We don’t want the young fellow; let him go back. Piper, sit down here.”
The motion for my exclusion was passed without a negative; and I closed the door, and sat down by myself among the trunks on deck.
For the remainder of the day I saw nothing of Darby, – the shouts of laughter and clapping of hands below stairs occasionally informing me how successful were his efforts to amuse his company; while I had abundant time to think over my own plans, and make some resolutions for the future.
CHAPTER VII. KEVIN STREET
How this long, melancholy day wore on I cannot say. To me it was as gloomy in revery as in its own dismal aspect; the very sounds of mirth that issued from the cabin beneath grated harshly on my ear; and the merry strains of Darby’s pipes and the clear notes of his rich voice seemed like treachery from one who so lately had spoken in terms of heart-breathing emotion of his countrymen and their wrongs. While, therefore, my estimation for my companion suffered, my sorrow for the cause that demanded such sacrifices deepened at every moment, and I panted with eagerness for the moment when I might take my place among the bold defenders of my country, and openly dare our oppressors to the battle. All that M’Keown had told me of English tyranny and oppression was connected in my mind with the dreadful scene I had so lately been a witness to, and for the cause of which I looked no further than an act of simple hospitality. From this I wandered on to the thought of those brave allies who had deserted their career of Continental glory to share our almost hopeless fortunes here; and how I burned to know them, and learn from them something of a soldier’s ardor.
Night had fallen when the fitful flashing of lamps between the tall elms that lined the banks announced our approach to the capital. There is something dreadfully depressing in the aspect of a large city, to the poor, unfriended youth, who without house or home is starting upon his life’s journey. The stir, the movement, the onward tide of population, intent on pleasure or business, are things in which he has no part. The appearance of wealth humiliates, while the sight of poverty affrights him; and, while every one is animated by some purpose, he alone seems like a waif thrown on the shores of life, unclaimed, unlocked for. Thus did I feel among that busy crowd who now pressed to the deck, gathering together their luggage, and preparing for departure. Some home awaited each of these, – some hearth, some happy faces to greet their coming. But I had none of these. This was a sorrowful thought; and as I brooded over it, my head sank upon my knees, and I saw nothing of what was going forward about me.
“Tom,” whispered a low voice in my ear, – “Master Tom, don’t delay, my dear; let us slip out here. The soldiers want me to go with them to their billets, and I have promised; but I don’t mean to do it.”
I looked up. It was Darby, buttoned up in his coat, his pipes unfastened for the convenience of carriage.
“Slip out after me at the lock here; it ‘s so dark we ‘ll never be seen.”
Keeping my eye on him, I elbowed my way through the crowded deck, and sprang out just as the boat began her forward movement.
“Here we are, all safe!” said Darby, patting me on the shoulder. “And now that I ‘ve time to ask you, did you get your dinner, my child?”
“Oh yes; the captain brought me something to eat.”
“Come, that’s right, anyhow. Glory be to God! I ate heartily of some bacon and greens; though the blackguards – bad luck to them for the same! – made me eat an orange lily whole, afraid the greens, as they said, might injure me.”
“I wonder. Darby,” said I, “that you haven’t more firmness than to change this way at every moment.”
“Firmness, is it? Faix, it’s firm enough I’d be, and Stiff, too, if I did n’t. Sure it ‘s the only way now at all. Wait, my honey, till the time comes round for ourselves, and faix, you ‘ll never accuse me of coorting their favor; but now, at this moment, you perceive, we must do it to learn their plans. What do you think I got to-night? I learned all the signs the yeos have when they ‘re drinking together, and what they say at each sign. Thers ‘s a way they have of gripping the two little fingers together that I’ll not forget soon.”
For some time we walked on at a rapid pace, without exchanging more than an occasional word. At last we entered a narrow, ill-lighted street, which led from the canal harbor to one of the larger and wider thoroughfares.
“I almost forget the way here,” said Darby, stopping and looking about him.
At last, unable to solve the difficulty, he leaned over the half-door of a shop, and called out to a man within, “Can you tell where is Kevin Street?”
“No. 39?” said the man, after looking at him steadily for a moment.
Darby stroked down one side of his face with his hand slowly; a gesture immediately imitated by the other man.
“What do you know?” said Darby.
“I know ‘U,’” replied the man.
“And what more?”
“I know ‘N’”
“That ‘ill do,” said Darby, shaking hands with him cordially. “Now, tell me the way, for I have no time to spare.”
“Begorra! you ‘re in as great haste as if ye were