Ben Burton Part 8

As the hour of dinner approached, the guests began to arrive in considerable numbers; and carts, and cars, and waggons came b.u.mping and thumping over the uneven path, though the greater part made their appearance on horseback. I was looking out of a window which commanded the approach to the castle, when I saw coming along the road a large party of naval officers, whose well-known uniform I at once recognised as they drew nearer, and I fancied I knew two of those who led the way.

On they came; I could not be mistaken. There were Captain Oliver and Lieutenant Schank, and several other officers and midshipmen whom I remembered on board the "Grecian". I ran to my poor mother with delight to tell her this. She turned pale, recollecting the sorrow she had gone through when last she saw them.

"I cannot face them," she said; "but you go, Ben; they will be glad to see you; I should feel out of place in their company, and though my family may be as good as that of many among them, they knew me under such different circ.u.mstances, that I should not like to be sitting at table with them."

On hearing my mother make these remarks, I too was seized with a bashful fit, but she insisted on my going down to meet them; and at length mustering courage, I ran downstairs. Captain Oliver did not at first know me, but Mr Schank recognised me at once.

"What, Ben, my boy, what brings you here?" he exclaimed.

I soon explained that Mr Kilcullin had married my aunt, and that my mother and I were among the guests.

"Ah! I always thought she was above her position on board," he observed to Captain Oliver, who, when he found out who I was, shook me warmly by the hand.

"Well, Ben, recollect I shall keep to my promise, and when your mother can spare you, I will take you with me."

"I hope we shall see her, Ben," observed Mr Schank, kindly; "I should like to shake hands with her." I told him how she felt on the subject.

"Oh!" he said, "that cannot signify. Tell her we shall not half enjoy the evening unless she comes down." The officers now arrived in the entrance hall, where my uncle and aunt were standing to welcome their guests. Of course they received them with all due honour.

"We're in a wild part of the country, Captain Oliver and gentlemen, but we will show you, at all events, that we have hospitable intentions, however roughly we may carry them out," said my uncle.

The great dining-hall was very soon filled, and several adjoining rooms, the guests of inferior quality, of whom there were a good many, making themselves happy in separate parties wherever they could find room to sit down. Among those most active in attending to the wants of the guests, and directing the other serving-men, were Peter Crean and Pat Brady, who was a host in himself, for though second cousin to the bride, he did not at all object to acting the part of a servant. As room was scarce, I was among the picnickers outside. The feast was progressing, when I saw Pat Brady come up to Peter Crean, pulling, for him, a wonderfully long face.

"Faith Peter!" I heard him say, "I do not at all like his looks.

There's a hang-dog expression about him, and to my mind he's a bailiff in disguise!"

"A what?" exclaimed Peter. "Has one of them vipers ventured into the neighbourhood of Ballyswiggan? Faith, then, it would have been better for him had he never seen this part of the country, for it will never do to let him go boasting that he set his foot in it without being discovered. Where is he?"

"He is just now outside the gate," answered Pat; "but I told two or three of the boys to keep him talking, and on no account to let him come beyond it. I think they have just got an idea that he will not be altogether a welcome guest."

"I have no doubt who he is, then," observed Peter Crean. "I have been expecting him. And, sure, he must not see the master, or he would be spoiling the fun of to-day, and for many a long day afterwards. Here, Pat, you go and talk to him, and I will just make arrangements to receive him."

Peter Crean was a man of action. A small room was cleared of visitors, a table prepared with viands and various liquors. This done, Peter hurried out to receive the guest. His suspicions were thoroughly confirmed on his inspection of the man.

"Your name, sir," he said, "that I may make you welcome to Ballyswiggan Castle. My master is just now particularly engaged with a few guests, but he will be happy to see you when the wine is on the table; and, in the meantime, you will just come in and satisfy your appet.i.te. You have had a long ride since you took anything to eat, barring maybe the whisky, which is not quite so rare on the road."

"My name is Jonas Quelch, at your service," answered the stranger, "and I come from England, though I have been living for some time in Dublin.

It's a fine city, that Dublin."

"Faith it is, Mr Quelch," observed Crean; "and fine people in it, and rogues in it, and the rogues sometimes come out of it, and when they do they are pretty glad to get back again, for we don't like rogues in these parts, Mr Quelch. But I will not keep you sitting on your horse; that will be taken to the stable, and you will just come in, as I said, and partake of the scanty fare this poor part of the country can afford."

He spoke in a satirical tone. Mr Quelch, holding his riding-whip in his hand, as if for defence, followed him into the house. Peter. Crean was, however, all courtesy and attention. He entreated his visitor to make himself at home, and helped him abundantly to the good things in the dishes placed before him, nor did he omit to ply him with whisky.

Gla.s.s upon gla.s.s he induced him to pour down his throat, till I began to wonder how he could swallow so much without inconvenience. He was evidently a hardened vessel. Crean, however, had not yet done with him.

He now placed before him a flagon of claret.

"Faith, this is the stuff for a gentleman," he observed. "You may just empty the bottle, and feel none the worse, but rather much the better than when you began."

The stranger, nothing loath, followed the advice of the steward. By degrees, however, Mr Quelch's speech became thick, and his conversation more and more incoherent. Crean watched him with a wicked look in his eyes, continuing to press the liquor more and more warmly upon him.

"Come, now, Mr Quelch, just let's begin another bottle. I have always found, where one bottle confuses a man's head, a second one puts him all to rights again. Now, I should not be surprised but that you are beginning to feel a little fuddled."

"You are right, friend," answered Mr Quelch, though the words were jerked out in a manner indicative of his state.

"Just so; and, now, follow my advice. Take the other bottle to cure you. We never like a stranger to come to this part of old Ireland without showing him due hospitality."

Mr Quelch, unaccustomed to claret, drank it as he would beer, and before he had finished the second bottle, on the top of almost an equal quant.i.ty of whisky, his head began to nod, and finally it dropped down on the table, where he let it remain, completely overcome.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I was describing, at the end of my last chapter, my uncle's uninvited guest--Jonas Quelch--dead drunk, with his head on the table. I sat at the further end of the room watching proceedings. Peter Crean gave a well-satisfied nod, and then left the room. In a short time he returned with Pat Brady, and a bundle of papers in his hand. Without much ado, they commenced an examination of the pockets of the stranger, and produced from them several doc.u.ments. One of them, as Peter ran his eyes over it, seemed to excite his excessive indignation. However, producing one from among his own papers, of a similar size and appearance, he sat down and wrote off several paragraphs, which seemed to afford him and Pat infinite amus.e.m.e.nt. This, with some other papers, which he had taken from the stranger's pockets, he then returned to them. This done, he and Pat--having removed the provisions and jugs-- left the stranger still sleeping, with his head resting on his arms, as before, I soon got tired of watching, and made my way into the banqueting hall, from which shouts of boisterous merriment were proceeding. His guests were, indeed, doing ample justice to my new uncle's good cheer, and speeches and songs were succeeding each other in rapid succession. Sometimes, indeed, two or three of the guests seemed disposed to sing or speak at the same time, one exciting the other, and adding not a little to the Babel of tongues. At this state of affairs the ladies took their departure, though not without several gentlemen rushing after them to bring them back. "Are ye after leaving us without a sun in the firmament!" exclaimed one. "The stars are going out, and we shall be in darkness presently," cried another. "A garden without roses is a sorry garden, by my faith!" exclaimed a third. "What shall we do without those beautiful eyes beaming out on us?" shouted a fourth.

However, in spite of the flatteries and efforts of Mr Tim Gillooly and his companions--for he was among the most demonstrative of the party-- the ladies made their escape to an upper room. Curiosity at length prompted me to go back and see what had become of the stranger. As I entered the room, he lifted up his head and looked about him, evidently wondering where he was. At length he rose to his feet, and with unsteady steps began to pace backwards and forwards.

"This won't do," he said to himself. "I am not in a fit condition, I have a notion, to execute this writ. However, it must be done. That liquor was not bad, or I should not feel as comfortable as I do. If now I can get a basin of water, and pour some of the cold liquid down my throat, I shall be soon all to rights again. I wonder when that foolish old steward will come back. He seemed to fancy that I had some favour to bestow on his master by the way he treated me. However, these Irish have very poor wits, and it is no hard matter to impose on them."

While he was speaking, Peter opened the door. The stranger made his request, with which he promised to comply. In a short time, Pat appeared with a basin and a jug of water. "I am your man now,"

exclaimed Mr Quelch, having dipped his head several times in the cold water, "and shall be happy to pay my respects to your master."

"To be sure, sir, to be sure," answered Pat. "He is with his friends in the great hall, and you will be welcome as all gentlemen from England are sure to be. You have only to go in and make your bow and give your message, and depend upon it you will get a civil answer, whatever else you get, and be requested to sit down and make yourself happy with the rest."

Peter, on this, led the way, followed by Mr Quelch. He did not observe that a number of women and others who had been feasting outside brought up the rear. A large party followed him into the hall, where he enquired for Mr Kilcullin, as he said, that he might make no mistake.

"There he is to be sure, at the end of his table, where a gentleman, with a beautiful wife always should be," answered Peter, pointing to the lord of the mansion, who, with his guests, appeared to be enjoying himself amazingly without any consciousness of the approach of a bailiff.

"Your servant, sir," said Mr Quelch, advancing towards him, and drawing from his pocket a long doc.u.ment.

"The same to you, I beg your pardon, what is your name?" said Mr Kilcullin, with a complacent smile. "You are welcome to Ballyswiggan, as all honest men are, and if they are not honest, by the powers they had better keep away! And what is that paper with which you are about to favour me?"

"Perhaps, sir, you will read it," said Mr Quelch, with a somewhat doubtful expression in his countenance.

"Certainly!" exclaimed my new uncle, "with the greatest pleasure in the world. Now listen, friends and gentlemen all. This is to give notice to all present that the bearer--Jonas Quelch--has come across the Channel to the west side of ould Ireland, on a fool's errand. There are many more like him, may be, but he must understand that he will have to go back the way he came, or else consent to be deported forthwith to the coast of Africa, to live henceforth among the black sons of the soil, for whom alone he is a fit a.s.sociate."

The astonishment of Mr Quelch on hearing this knew no bounds. Scarcely recovered from the effects of his ample potations, the little sense he possessed entirely forsook him. He began to storm and swear, and declared that he had been vilely tricked. Loud peak of laughter from the guests present were the only answer he received.

"Come, come, Mr Quelch!" exclaimed Peter Crean, touching him on the shoulder. "You have your choice, my boy, but, by my faith, if you go on abusing Irish gentlemen in this fashion, you will be sent off sooner than a Kilkenny cow can leap over the moon to the country where the n.i.g.g.e.rs come from, and it will be no easy matter for you to find your way back again, I'm after thinking." This answer only increased the anger of the unhappy bailiff. The consequence was that he found himself seized by several of the men around, and amid the varied cries of the guests quickly hurried out of the hall. Derisive shouts of laughter followed the unhappy man as he was carried away. Most of the guests had, in their time, taken part in a similar drama to that which was about to be enacted, and knew full well how the man was to be treated.

The carouse continued till it was time to clear the room for the ball.

Several of the guests had to be borne off, and their heads bathed in cold water to make them fit companions for the ladies in the dance.

Meantime, Jonas Quelch was carried back to the room he had left, where Crean plied him with a further supply of whisky under the excuse of keeping up his spirits.

"Faith, my friend, we bear you no ill-will," observed the steward, "but you should have known that in this part of ould Ireland it's against the law to execute writs. Such a thing never has been done, and it would be contrary to our consciences ever to allow it to be done, and, therefore, though it's your masters are to blame, it's _you_ who will have to bear the consequences."

Mr Quelch, however, by the time these remarks were made, was scarcely in a condition to understand their full meaning; and he was shortly again reduced very much to the condition in which he had been before he had gone into the hall. At this juncture a party of men entered the room, one of them telling him that they had come to conduct him on board the ship which was to convey him to the coast of Africa. In vain he urged that he had no wish to go there, and that he would do anything, even to going back to the country from which he had come, if that would satisfy them. No excuses, however, were available. Away he was carried, in spite of all his struggles, down to the sea-sh.o.r.e, where a boat was waiting, as he was told, for him. As I preferred remaining to see the dancing, I can only give the story as I afterwards heard it. In spite of his struggles he was placed in the boat, which immediately pulled off into the bay, where he quickly found himself transferred on board a vessel which lay there at anchor. He was carried down below, and placed in a small cabin by himself.

"We will treat you decently," said one of the men, who appeared to be the leader of the party. "There are just two things you will have to do, you must understand, or have a chance of being knocked on the head.

You must not attempt to get out, and you must ask no questions. It is to the coast of Africa we are going to carry you, and to the coast of Africa you must go. The voyage will not be a long one if we have a fair breeze, and they are dacent sort of people where we are going to land you; may be they will make you a prince of their country, and let you marry a princess, but you will understand that if you love your life, on the sh.o.r.es of ould Ireland again you will never venture to set foot."

The unfortunate Mr Quelch could make no resistance. All his expostulations were in vain. He heard, as he fancied, the anchor being got up and sail made, and was fully under the impression that he had begun the voyage which was to carry him away for ever from his native land. The man who had first spoken to him again came below.

"We wish to treat you as a jintleman, though may be it's more than you deserve," he said, "so we will not stint you in liquor. You shall have as much as you can pour down your throat, for I have a notion you will not get an over abundant supply when you reach Africa. It's a fine country, I am told, though a little more sandy than ould Ireland."