My New Curate Part 54

The following day was Sunday and All Saints' Day besides; and Jem, being a conscientious man, heard an early Ma.s.s; and being a const.i.tutional man, he strolled down to take the fresh air--down the gra.s.sy slopes that lead to the sea. Jem was smoking placidly and at peace with himself and the world. One trifle troubled him. It was a burn on the lip, where the candle had caught him the night before at Mrs. Haley's, when he was induced to relax a little, and with his hands tied behind his back, grabbed at a rosy apple, and caught the lighted candle in his mouth. But that was a trifle. As Jem calmly strolled along, he became suddenly aware of a marine phenomenon; and Jem, as a profound student of natural history, was so interested in the phenomenon that he actually took the pipe from his mouth and studied the marvel long and carefully. About twenty yards from where he was standing, a huge pile of rock started suddenly from the deep--a square, embattled ma.s.s, covered by the short, springy turf that alone can resist the action of the sea. Beside it, a tall needle of rock, serrated and sharp, shot up. These two solitary islands, the abode of goats and gulls, were known in local geography as the Cow and Calf. Now the Cow and Calf were familiar to Jem Deady from his childhood. So were the deep, hollow caves beneath. So was the angry swirl of the tide that, parted outside the rocks, swept around in fierce torrents, and met with a shock of strength and a sweat of foam at the angle near the cliffs. Therefore, these things did not surprise the calm, equable mind of Jem. But perched on the sward on the top were two strange beings, the like of whom Jem had never seen before, and whom his fancy now at once recognized as the mermen of fable and romance. Their faces were dark as that of his sable majesty; their hair was tossed wildly. But they looked the picture of despair, whereas mermen were generally reputed to be jolly. It might be no harm to accost them, and Jem was not shy about strangers.

"Hallo, there!" he cried across the chasm; "who the--are ye? Did ye shwim across from ole Virginny, or did ye escape from a throupe of Christy Minstrels?"

"You, fellow," said a mournful voice, "go at once for the poluss."

"Aisier said than done," said Jem. "What am I to say suppose the gintlemin are not out of their warm beds?"

"Tell them that two of Her gracious Majesty's servants are here--brought here by the worst set of ruffians that are not yet hanged in Ireland."

"And what do ye expect the police to do?" said Jem, calmly.

"To do? Why, to get a boat and tuk us out o' thus, I suppose!"

"Look at yere feet," said Jem, "and tell me what kind of a boat would live there?"

True enough. The angry waters were hissing, and embracing, and swirling back, and trying to leap the cliffs, and feeling with all their awful strength and agility for some channel through which they might reach and devour the prisoners.

By some secret telegraphy a crowd had soon gathered. One by one, the "byes" dropped down from the village, and to each in turn Jem had to tell all he knew about the mermen. Then commenced a running fire of chaff from every quarter.

"Where are yere banjoes, gintlemin? Ye might as well spind the Sunday pleasantly, for the sorra a wan o' ye will get off before night."

"Start 'Way down the Suwanee River,' Jem, and we'll give 'em a chorus."

"You're Jem Deady, I suppose," said one of the bailiffs. "Well, Deady, remember you're a marked mon. I gut yer cherickter last night from a gentleman as the greatest ruffian amongst all the ruffians of Kilronan--"

"Yerra, man, ye're takin' lave of yer sinses. Is 't Jem Deady? Jem Deady, the biggest _omadhaun_ in the village."

"Jem Deady, the greatest _gommal_[9] that ever lived."

"Jem Deady, that doesn't know his right hand from his left."

"Jem Deady, who doesn't know enough to come in out of the wet."

"Jem Deady, the innocent, that isn't waned from his mother ayet."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Hallo, there!... who the ---- are ye?" (p. 457.)]

During all these compliments Jem smoked placidly. I had forgotten one of the most serious duties of a novelist--the description of Jem's toilette. I had forgotten to say that a black pilot coat with velvet collar, red silk handkerchief, etc., was a veritable Nessus shirt to Jem. So pa.s.sionately fond of work was he, and so high an idea had he conceived on the sacredness and n.o.bleness of work, that integuments savoring of Sabbath indolence were particularly intolerable to him. He moved about stiffly in them, was glad to shake them off, and resume his white, lime-stained, patched, and torn, but oh! such luxuriously easy garments of every-day life. Then I regret to have to record an act of supreme vanity, that might be pardonable or venial in a young lady going to a ball or coming out in her first concert, but was simply shocking in a middle-aged man going out to Ma.s.s on a Sunday morning. Jem Deady actually _powdered his face_! I do not say that it was violet powder or that he used a puff. His methods were more primitive and more successful. He went to a pot where lime was seething, or rather had been seething. He took up the thick lumps and crushed them into dust. He made his face as white as if he were going to play the king in Macbeth, and Banquo's ghost was arising; and he turned his glossy locks into a cadaverous and premature grayness, and Bess didn't like it. She wanted to see him only one Sunday in "his best shuit"; but Jem, unkind fellow, would not grant her that gratification.

Where was I? Oh, yes!

Jem, nothing loth, "ruz" the "Suwanee River," and accompanying himself on an imaginary banjo, drew tears from all eyes by singing, with mingled pathos and regret:--

"All the world am sad and dreary Eberywhere I roam; Oh! darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from the old folks at home."

Then commenced a fresh cross-fire of chaff.

"The gintlemin in the orchaystra will now favor the company wit' a song."

Suddenly one young rascal shouted out:--

"Begor, perhaps it's badin' ye were goin'. Don't ye know the rigulations of the coast? If ye were caught takin' off even yere hats here without puttin' on a badin' dress, ye'd be dragged before the Mayor and Lord Lieutenant of Kilronan, and get six weeks' paynal servitude."

Then suddenly a bright idea seemed to dawn on these scamps. There was a good deal of whispering, and nodding, and pointing; and at last Jem Deady stepped forward, and in a voice full of awe and sorrow he said:--

"Wan of the byes is thinkin' that maybe ye're the same strange gintlemin that are on a visit with the priest for the last three days, and who were dacent enough to shtand 'dhrinks all round' last night at Mrs.

Haley's. 'Pon the vartue of yere oath, are ye?"

"We are. Und dom fools we made of ourselves."

"Now, aisy, aisy," said Jem. "Ye don't know us as yet; but sure wan good turn desarves another."

"Ye appear to be a dacent sort of fellow," said one of the bailiffs.

"Now, look here. If ye get us 'ut of thus, we'll gev ye a pun' note, and as much dhrink as ye can bear."

Here there was a cheer.

"The tide goes down at four o'clock," said Jem, "and thin for eight minits there is a dhry pa.s.sage across the rocks. Thin ye must run for yere lives, and we'll be here to help ye. But how the divil did ye get there? We never saw but a goat there afore."

"That's a matter for the Queen's Bench, my fine fellow. G.o.d help those who brought us here!"

"Amen!" cried all devoutly, lifting their ragged hats. Then they departed to make the needful preparation. After they had half mounted the declivity, one was sent back.

"The gintlemin who are going to resky ye," he said, "wants to know if ye have any conscientious objection to be brought over on the Sabbath; or wud ye rather remain where ye are till Monday?"

He was answered with an oath, and went away sadly. He was scandalized by such profanity. "Sich language on a Sunday mornin', glory be to G.o.d!

What is the world comin' to?"

Four o'clock came, and the entire village of Kilronan turned out to the rescue. There were at least one thousand spectators of the interesting proceedings, and each individual of the thousand had a remark to make, a suggestion to offer, or a joke to deliver at the unhappy prisoners. And all was done under an affectation of sympathy that was deeply touching.

Two constables kept order, but appeared to enjoy the fun. Now, in any other country but Ireland, and perhaps, indeed, we may also except Spain and France and Italy, a simple thing is done in a simple, unostentatious manner. That does not suit the genius of our people, which tries to throw around the simplest matter all the pomp and circ.u.mstance of a great event, and in the evolution thereof every man, woman, and child is supposed to have a personal interest, and a special and direct calling to order and arrange and bring the whole proceeding to perfection. Now, you would say, what could be simpler than to fling a rope to the prisoners and let them walk across on the dry rocks? That's your ignorance and your contempt for details; for no Alpine guides, about to cross the creva.s.ses of a dangerous glacier, with a nervous and timid following of tourists, ever made half the preparations that Jem Deady and his followers made on this occasion. Two stout fishermen, carrying a strong cable, clambered down the cliff, and crossed the narrow ledge of rock, now wet with seaweed and slippery. They might have gone down, with perfect ease, the goat-path, sanded and gravelled, by which the bailiffs were carried the night before; but this would not be value for a pound and the copious libations that were to follow. They then tied the cable around the bailiffs and around themselves, and proceeded on their perilous journey. With infinite care they stepped on rock and seaweed, shouting hoa.r.s.e warnings to their mates; but all their warnings were not sufficient to prevent the bailiffs from slipping and floundering in the deep sea-water pools left by the receding tide. Somehow the rope would jerk, or a fisherman would slip, and down all would come together.

Meanwhile hoa.r.s.e shouts echoed from the gallery of spectators above.

"Pull aft there, Bill."

"Let her head stand steady to the cliff."

"Port your helm, you lubber; don't you see where you're standing for?"

"Ease her, ease her, Tim! Now let her for'ard." And so, with shouts, and orders, and a fair sprinkling of profane adjurations, the rescuers and the rescued were hauled up the roughest side of the cliff, until the black visages of the bailiffs were visible. Then there was a pause, and many a sympathetic word for the "poor min."

"Where did they come from, at all?"

"No one knows. They're poor shipwrecked furriners."

"Have they any talk?"

"Very little, except to curse."

"Poor min! and I suppose they're all drowned wet."