The O'Donoghue Part 15

"You may say that, Lanty Lawler; fair weather or foul, them's the boys never change; but come now be alive, and get out the baste."

"I'm going, I'm going; it's myself would like to hear them sing a Roosian song. Whisht! what's that? did ye hear a shout there?"

"Here they are; that's them," said Mary, springing towards the door, and withdrawing the bolt, while a smart knock was heard, and the same instant, a voice called out--

"Holloa! house ahoy!"

The door at the moment flew open, and a short, thick-set looking man, in a large boat cloak, entered, followed by a taller figure, equally m.u.f.fled. The former dropping his heavy envelope, and throwing off an oil-skin cap from his head, held out his arms wide as, he said--

"_Marie, ma mie! embra.s.se moi_;" and then, not waiting for a compliance with the request, sprang forward, and clasped the buxom landlady in his arms, and kissed her on each cheek, with an air compounded of true feeling, and stage effect.

"Here's my friend and travelling companion, Henry Talbot, come to share your hospitality, Mary," said he in English, to which the slightest foreign accent lent a tone of recitative. "One of us, Mary--one of us."

The individual alluded to had by this time dropped his cloak to the ground, and displayed the figure of a slight and very young man, whose features were singularly handsome, save for a look of great effeminacy; his complexion was fair as a girl's, and, flushed by exercise, the tint upon his cheek was of a pale rose colour; he was dressed in a riding coat, and top boots, which, in the fashion of the day, were worn short, and wrinkled around the leg; his hair he wore without powder, and long upon his neck; a heavy riding whip, ornamented with silver, the only weapon he carried, composed his costume--one as unlike his companion's as could be.

Captain Jacques Flahault was a stout-built, dark-complexioned fellow, of some four or five and forty; his face a grotesque union of insolence and drollery; the eyes black as jet, shaded by brows so arched, as to give always the idea of laughing to a countenance, the lower part of which, shrouded in beard and moustache, was intended to look stern and savage.

His dress was a short blue frock, beneath which he wore a jersey shirt, striped in various colours, across which a broad buff leather belt, loosely slung, supported four pistols and a dirk; jack boots reached about the middle of the thigh, and were attached to his waist by thongs of strong leather, no needless precaution apparently, as in their looseness the wearer might at any moment have stepped freely from them; a black handkerchief, loosely knotted round his neck, displayed a throat brawny and ma.s.sive as a bull's, and imparted to the whole head an appearance of great size--the first impression every stranger conceived regarding him.

"Ah! ah! Lawler, you here; how goes it, my old friend? Sit down here, and tell me all your rogueries since we parted. _Par St, Pierre_, Henry, this is the veriest _fripon_ in the kingdom"--Talbot bowed, and with a sweetly courteous smile saluted Lanty, as if accepting the speech in the light of an introduction--"a fellow that in the way of his trade could cheat the Saint Pere himself."

"Where's the others, Captain Jack?" said Mary, whose patience all this time endured a severe trial--"where's the rest?"

"_Place pour la potage! Ma Mie!_--soup before a story; you shall hear every thing by and by. Let us have the supper at once."

Lanty chimed in a willing a.s.sent to this proposition, and in a few moments the meat smoked upon the table, around which the whole party took their places with evident good-will.

"While Mary performed her attentions as hostess, by heaping up each plate, and ever supplying the deficiency caused by the appet.i.te of the guests, the others eat on like hungry men. Captain Jacques alone intermingling with the duties of the table, a stray remark from time to time.

"_Ventre bleu!_ how it blows; if it veers more to the southard, there will be a heavy strain on that cable. _Trinquons mon ami, Trinquons toujours; Ma belle Marie_, you eat nothing."

"'Tis unasy I am, Captain Jack, about what's become of the others," said Mrs. M'Kelly.

"Another b.u.mper, _Ma Mie_, and I'm ready for the story--the more as it is a brief one. _Allons donc_--now for it. We left the bay about nine o'clock, or half-past, perhaps, intending to push forward to the glen at once, and weigh with the morning's tide, for it happens that this time our cargo is destined for a small creek, on the north-west coast; our only business here being to land my friend, Harry"--here Talbot bowed and smiled--"and to leave two hogsheads of Bourdeaux, for that very true-hearted, kind, _brave homme_, Hemsworth, at the Lodge there. You remember last winter we entered into a compact with him to stock his cellar, provided no information of our proceedings reached the revenue from any quarter. Well, the wine was safely stored in one of the caves on the coast, and we started with a light conscience; we had neither despatches nor run-brandy to trouble us--nothing to do but eat our supper; saluer madame"--here he turned round, and with an air of mock respect kissed Mary's hand--"and get afloat again. As we came near the 'Lodge,' I determined to make my visit a brief one; and so leaving all my party, Harry included, outside, I approached the house, which, to my surprise, showed lights from nearly every window. This made me cautious, and so I crept stealthily to a low window, across which the curtain was but loosely drawn, and _Mort de ma vie!_ what did I behold, but the prettiest face in Europe. _Une ange de beaute_. She was leaning over a table copying a drawing, or a painting of some sort or other. _Tete bleu!_ here was a surprise. I had never seen her before, although I was with Hemsworth a dozen times."

"Go on--go on," said Lanty, whose curiosity was extreme to hear what happened next.

"_Eh bien_--I tried the sash, but it was fastened. I then went round the house, and examined the other windows, one after the other--all the same. _Que faire!_ I thought of knocking boldly at the back-door, but then I should have no chance of a peep at _la belle_ in that way."

"What did you want with a peep at her?" asked Mary, gruffly.

"_Diable!_ what did I want? _Pour l'admirer, l'adorer_--or, at least to make my respects, as becomes a stranger, and a Frenchman. _Pursuivons_.

There was no _entree_, without some noise--so I preferred the room she was in, to any other, and gently disengaging my dirk, I slipped it between the two sashes, to lift up the latch that fastened them. _Mort bleu!_ the weapon slipped, and came slap through the pane, with a tremendous fracas. She started up, and screamed--there was no use in any more delay. I put my foot through the window, and pushed open the sash at once--but before I was well in the room, bells were ringing in every quarter of the house, and men's voices calling aloud, and shouting to each other--when, suddenly, the door opened, and whiz went a pistol-ball close by my head, and shattered the shutter behind me. My fellows, outside, hearing the shot, unslung their pieces, and before I could get down to them, poured in a volley--why, wherefore, or upon whom, the devil himself, that instigated them, can tell. The garrison mustered strong, however, and replied--that they did, by Jove, for one of ours, Emile de Louvois, is badly wounded. I sounded the retreat, but the scoundrels would not mind me--and before I was able to prevent it, _tete bleu!_ they had got round to the farmyard, and set fire to the corn-stacks; in a second, the corn and hay blazed up, and enveloped house and all in smoke. I sounded the retreat once more, and off the villains scampered, with poor Emile, to the boat; and I, finding my worthy friend here an inactive spectator of the whole from a grove near the road, resolved not to give up my supper--and so, _me voici!_--but come, can none of you explain this affair? What is Hemsworth doing, with all this armed household, and this captive princess?"

"Is the 'Lodge' burned down?" said Lanty, whose interest in the inhabitants had a somewhat selfish origin.

"No, they got the fire tinder. I saw a wild-looking devil mount one of the ricks, with a great canvas sail all wetted, and drag it over the burning stack--and before I left the place, the Lodge was quite safe."

"I'm sorry for it," said Mary, with a savage determination. "I'm sorry to the heart's core. Luck nor grace never was in the glen, since the first stone of it was laid--nor will be again, till it is a ruin! Why didn't they lay it in ashes, when they were about it?"

"Faith, it seemed to me," said Talbot, in a low soft voice, "they would have asked nothing better. I never saw such bull-dogs in my life. It was all you could do, Flahault, to call them off."

"True enough," replied Jacques, laughing. "They enjoy a _brisee_ like that with all their hearts."

"The English won't stay long here, after this night," was Lanty's sage reflection, but one which he did not utter aloud in the present company.

And then, in accordance with Jacques' request, he proceeded to explain by what different tenants the Lodge became occupied since his last visit; and that an English baronet and his daughter, with a household of many servants, had replaced Hemsworth and his few domestics. At every stage of the recital, Flahault stopped the narrative, to give him time to laugh. To him the adventure was full of drollery. Even the recollection of his wounded comrade little damped his enjoyment of a scene, which might have been attended by the saddest results; and he chuckled a hundred times over what he suspected the Englishman must feel, on this, his first visit to Ireland. "I could rob the mail to-morrow, for the mere fun of reading his letters to his friends," said he. "_Mort bleu!_ what a description of Irish rapparrees, five hundred in number, armed with pikes."

"I wish ye'd gave him the cause to do it," said Mary, bitterly--"what brings them here? who wants them? or looks for them?"

"You are right, Mary," said Talbot, mildly. "Ireland for the Irish!"

"Ay, Ireland for the Irish!" repeated Mary and Lanty; and the sentiment was drank with all the honours of a favoured toast.

For some time the party continued to discuss Flahault's story, and calculate on every possible turn the affair might give rise to. All agreeing, finally, on one point, that Sir Marmaduke would scarcely venture to protract his stay in a country, where his visit had been signalized by such a reception. The tone of the conversation seemed little to accord with Captain Jacques' humour, whose convivial temperament found slight pleasure in protracted or argumentative discussions of any kind.

"_Que le diable l'importe_," cried he, at last. "This confounded talk has stopped the bottle this half-hour. Come, Talbot, let's have a song, my lad; never shake your head, _mon enfant,_---- Well, then, here goes."

Thus saying, Flahault pushed back his chair a little from the table, and in a rich deep ba.s.s voice, which rung through the high rafters of the cabin, chanted out the following rude verses, to a French vaudeville air--giving the final _e_ of the French words, at the end of each line, that peculiar accentuation of _a_--which made the word sound _contrabanda!_

Though this information as to Captain Jacques' performance seems of little moment, yet such was the fact, that any spirit the doggerel possessed could only be attributed to the manner of the singer, and the effect produced by the intonation we have mentioned.

LA CONTRABANDE.

A b.u.mper, "mes enfans," to swallow your care, A full b.u.mper, we pledge, "a L'Irlande;"

The land of "belles femmes"--le pays de bonne chere, "Et toujours de la Contrabande."

Some like to make love, and some like to make war, Some of beauty obey "la commande;"

But what is a glance from an eye, "bleu," or "noir,"

Except it be, "la Contrabande."

When a prince takes the cash that a peasant can't spare, And lets him lie down "sur la lande;"

Call it, as you like--but the truth is, I swear, "C'est bien pire que--la Contrabande."

Stolen kisses are ever the sweetest, we're told, They sink like a "navire qui fende;"

And what's true of a kiss, is the same, too, of gold, They're both, in their way, "Contrabande!"

When kings take your money, they won't even say, "Mon ami le Dieu vous le rende;"

While even the priest, for a blessing takes pay, "C'est partout et toujours, Contrabande."

The good things of life are not equal, I'm sure, Then, how pleasant to make the "amende;"

To take from the wealthy, and give to the poor, "Voila! que j'appelle, Contrabande."

Yet, as matters go, one must not deem it strange, That even "La France et L'Irlande,"

If good wishes and friendship they simply exchange, There are folks who call that, "Contrabande."

"_Vive la Contrabande, mes amis_," shouted out Jacques, as he arose gla.s.s in hand, and made the room ring with the toast. And every voice repeated the words, in such imitations as they were able.

"'Tis an elegant song, any way," said Lanty, "if one only understood it all--and the tune's mighty like the 'Cruiskeen Lawn.'"