Stories of Comedy
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Various >> Stories of Comedy
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We have said a ship left the harbor before the hooker had set sail; and
it is now fitting to inform the reader that Barny had contrived, in the
course of his last meeting with the "long sailor," to ascertain that
this ship, then lying in the harbor, was going to the very place Barny
wanted to reach. Barny's plan of action was decided upon in a moment; he
had now nothing to do but to watch the sailing of the ship and follow in
her course. Here was, at once, a new mode of navigation discovered.
The stars, twinkling in mysterious brightness through the silent gloom
of night, were the first encouraging, because visible, guides to the
adventurous mariners of antiquity. Since then, the sailor, encouraged by
a bolder science, relies on the unseen agency of nature, depending on
the fidelity of an atom of iron to the mystic law that claims its homage
in the north. This is one refinement of science upon another. But the
beautiful simplicity of Barny O'Reirdon's philosophy cannot be too much
admired,--to follow the ship that is going to the same place. Is not
this navigation made easy?
But Barny, like many a great man before him, seemed not to be aware of
how much credit he was entitled to for his invention, for he did not
divulge to his companions the originality of his proceeding; he wished
them to believe he was only proceeding in the commonplace manner, and
had no ambition to be distinguished as the happy projector of so simple
a practice.
For this purpose he went to windward of the ship and then fell off
again, allowing her to pass him, as he did not wish even those on board
the ship to suppose he was following in their wake; for Barny, like all
people that are quite full of one scheme, and fancy everybody is
watching them, dreaded lest any one should fathom his motives. All that
day Barny held on the same course as his leader, keeping at a respectful
distance, however, "for fear 'twould look like dodging her," as he said
to himself; but as night closed in, so closed in Barny with the ship,
and kept a sharp lookout that she should not give him the slip. The next
morning dawned, and found the hooker and ship companions still; and thus
matters proceeded for four days, during which entire time they had not
seen land since their first losing sight of it, although the weather was
clear.
"By my sowl," thought Barny, "the channel must be mighty wide in these
parts, and for the last day or so we've been goin' purty free with a
flowing sheet, and I wondher we aren't closin' in wid the shore by this
time; or maybe it's farther off than I thought it was." His companions,
too, began to question Barny on the subject, but to their queries he
presented an impenetrable front of composure, and said "it was always
the best plan to keep a good bowld offin'." In two days more, however,
the weather began to be sensibly warmer, and Barny and his companions
remarked that it was "goin' to be the finest sayson--God bless it--that
ever kem out o' the skies for many a long year, and maybe it's the whate
would not be beautiful, and a great dale of it."
It was at the end of a week that the ship which Barny had hitherto kept
ahead of him showed symptoms of bearing down upon him, as he thought,
and, sure enough, she did; and Barny began to conjecture what the deuce
the ship could want with him, and commenced inventing answers to the
questions he thought it possible might be put to him in case the ship
spoke him. He was soon put out of suspense by being hailed and ordered
to run under her lee, and the captain, looking over the quarter, asked
Barny where he was going.
"Faith then, I'm goin' an my business," said Barny.
"But where?" said the captain.
"Why, sure, an' it's no matther where a poor man like me id be goin',"
said Barny.
"Only I'm curious to know what the deuce you've been following my ship
for, the last week."
"Follyin' your ship! Why, thin, blur-an-agers, do you think it's
follyin' yiz I am?"
"It's very like it," said the captain.
"Why, did two people niver thravel the same road before?"
"I don't say they didn't; but there's a great difference between a ship
of seven hundred tons and a hooker."
"O, as for that matther," said Barny, "the same high-road sarves a coach
and four and a lowback car, the thravellin' tinker an' a lord a'
horseback."
"That's very true," said the captain, "but the cases are not the same,
Paddy, and I can't conceive what the devil brings _you_ here."
"And who ax'd you to consayve anything about it?" asked Barny, somewhat
sturdily.
"D--n me, if I can imagine what you're about, my fine fellow," said the
captain; "and my own notion is, that you don't know where the d--l
you're going yourself."
"O _baithershin_!" said Barny, with a laugh of derision.
"Why then do you object to tell?" said the captain.
"Arrah sure, captain, an' don't you know that sometimes vessels is bound
to sail under _saycret ordhers_?" said Barny, endeavoring to foil the
question by badinage.
There was a universal laugh from the deck of the ship, at the idea of a
fishing-boat sailing under secret orders; for, by this time, the whole
broadside of the vessel was crowded with grinning mouths and wondering
eyes at Barny and his boat.
"O, it's a thrifle makes fools laugh," said Barny.
"Take care, my fine fellow, that you don't be laughing at the wrong side
of your mouth before long, for I've a notion that you're cursedly in
the wrong box, as cunning a fellow as you think yourself. D--n your
stupid head, can't you tell what brings you here?"
"Why, thin, by gor, one id think the whole say belonged to you, you're
so mighty bowld in axin' questions an it. Why, tare-an-ouns, sure I've
as much right to be here as you, though I haven't as big a ship nor as
fine a coat,--but maybe I can take as good a sailin' out o' the one, and
has as bowld a heart under th' other."
"Very well," said the captain, "I see there's no use in talking to you,
so go to the d--l your own way." And away bore the ship, leaving Barny
in indignation and his companions in wonder.
"An' why wouldn't you tell him?" said they to Barny.
"Why, don't you see," said Barny, whose object was now to blind
them,--"don't you see, how do I know but maybe he might be goin' to the
same place himself, and maybe he has a cargo of _scalpeens_ as well as
uz, and wants to get before us there."
"True for you, Barny," said they. "By dad, you're right." And their
inquiries being satisfied, the day passed as former ones had done, in
pursuing the course of the ship.
In four days more, however, the provisions in the hooker began to fail,
and they were obliged to have recourse to the _scalpeens_ for
sustenance, and Barny then got seriously uneasy at the length of the
voyage, and the likely greater length, for anything he could see to the
contrary; and, urged at last by his own alarms and those of his
companions, he was enabled, as the wind was light, to gain on the ship,
and when he found himself alongside he demanded a parley with the
captain.
The captain, on hearing that the "hardy hooker," as she got christened,
was under his lee, came on deck; and as soon as he appeared Barny cried
out,--
"Why, thin, blur-an-agers, Captain dear, do you expec' to be there
soon?"
"Where?" said the captain.
"O, you know yourself!" said Barny.
"It's well for me I do," said the captain.
"Thrue for you, indeed, your honor," said Barny, in his most insinuating
tone; "but whin will you be at the ind o' your voyage, Captain jewel?"
"I daresay in about three months," said the captain.
"O Holy Mother!" ejaculated Barny; "three months!--arrah, it's jokin'
you are, Captain dear, and only want to freken me."
"How should I frighten you?" asked the captain.
"Why, thin, your honor, to tell God's thruth, I heard you were goin'
_there_, an' as I wanted to go there too, I thought I couldn't do better
nor to folly a knowledgeable gintleman like yourself, and save myself
the throuble iv findin' it out."
"And where do you think I _am_ going?" said the captain.
"Why, thin," said Barny, "isn't it to Fingal?"
"No," said the captain, "it's to _Bengal_."
"O Gog's blakey!" said Barny, "what'll I do now, at all at all?"
II.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
The captain ordered Barny on deck, as he wished to have some
conversation with him on what he, very naturally, considered a most
extraordinary adventure. Heaven help the captain! he knew little of
Irishmen, or he would not have been so astonished. Barny made his
appearance. Puzzling question and more puzzling answer followed in quick
succession between the commander and Barny, who, in the midst of his
dilemma, stamped about, thumped his head, squeezed his caubeen into all
manner of shapes, and vented his despair anathematically: "O, my heavy
hathred to you, you tarnal thief iv a long sailor, it's a purty scrape
yiv led me into. By gor, I thought it was _Fingal_ he said, and now I
hear it is _Bingal_. O, the divil sweep you for navigation, why did I
meddle or make wid you at all at all? And my curse light on you, Terry
O'Sullivan, why did I iver come across you, you onlooky vagabone, to put
sich thoughts in my head? And so it's _Bingal_, and not _Fingal_, you're
goin' to, Captain?"
"Yes, indeed, Paddy."
"An' might I be so bowld to ax, Captain, is Bingal much farther nor
Fingal?"
"A trifle or so, Paddy?"
"Och, thin, millia murther, weirasthru, how'll I iver get there at all
at all?" roared out poor Barny.
"By turning about, and getting back the road you've come, as fast as you
can."
"Is it back? O Queen iv Heaven! an' how will I iver get back?" said the
bewildered Barny.
"Then, you don't know your course, it appears?"
"O, faix I knew it iligant, as long as your honor was before me."
"But you don't know your course back?"
"Why, indeed, not to say rightly all out, your honor."
"Can't you steer?" said the captain.
"The divil a betther hand at the tiller in all Kinsale," said Barny,
with his usual brag.
"Well, so far so good," said the captain. "And you know the points of
the compass,--you have a compass, I suppose?"
"A compass! by my sowl an' it's not let alone a compass, but a _pair_ a
compasses I have, that my brother the carpinthir left me for a keepsake
whin he wint abroad; but, indeed, as for the points o' thim I can't say
much, for the childer spylt thim intirely, rootin' holes in the flure."
"What the plague are you talking about?" asked the captain.
"Wasn't your honor discoorsin' me about the points o' the compasses?"
"Confound your thick head!" said the captain. "Why, what an ignoramus
you must be, not to know what a compass is, and you at sea all your
life? Do you even know the cardinal points?"
"The cardinals! faix, an' it's a great respect I have for them, your
honor. Sure, ar'n't they belongin' to the pope?"
"Confound you, you blockhead!" roared the captain, in a rage,--"'twould
take the patience of the pope and the cardinals, and the cardinal
virtues into the bargain, to keep one's temper with you. Do you know the
four points of the wind?"
"By my sowl, I do, and more."
"Well, never mind more, but let us stick to four. You're sure you know
the four points of the wind?"
"By dad, it would be a quare thing if a seyfarin' man didn't know
somethin' about the wind anyhow. Why, Captain dear, you must take me for
a nathral intirely, to suspect me o' the like o' not knowin' all about
the wind. By gor, I know as much o' the wind a'most as a pig."
"Indeed, I believe so," laughed out the captain.
"O, you may laugh if you plaze, and I see by the same that you don't
know about the pig, with all your edication, Captain."
"Well, what about the pig?"
"Why, sir, did you never hear a pig can see the wind?"
"I can't say that I did."
"O, thin he does, and for that rayson who has a right to know more about
it?"
"You don't, for one, I dare say, Paddy; and maybe you have a pig aboard
to give you information."
"Sorra taste, your honor, not as much as a rasher o' bacon; but it's
maybe your honor never seen a pig tossing up his snout, consaited like,
and running like mad afore a storm."
"Well, what if I have?"
"Well, sir, that is when they see the wind a-comin'."
"Maybe so, Paddy, but all this knowledge in piggery won't find you your
way home; and, if you take my advice, you will give up all thoughts of
endeavoring to find your way back, and come on board. You and your
messmates, I dare say, will be useful hands, with some teaching; but, at
all events, I cannot leave you here on the open sea, with every chance
of being lost."
"Why, thin, indeed, and I'm behowlden to your honor; and it's the
hoighth o' kindness, so it is, you offer; and it's nothin' else but a
gintleman you are, every inch o' you; but I hope it's not so bad wid us
yet, as to do the likes o' that."
"I think it's bad enough," said the captain, "when you are without a
compass and knowing nothing of your course, and nearly a hundred and
eighty leagues from land."
"An' how many miles would that be, Captain?"
"Three times as many."
"I never larned the rule o' three, Captain, and maybe your honor id tell
me yourself."
"That is rather more than five hundred miles."
"Five hundred miles!" shouted Barny. "O, the Lord look down upon us!
how'll we ever get back?"
"That's what I say," said the captain; "and therefore, I recommend you
to come aboard with me."
"And where 'ud the hooker be all the time?" said Barny.
"Let her go adrift," was the answer.
"Is it the darlint boat? O, by dad, I'll never hear o' that at all."
"Well, then, stay in her and be lost. Decide upon the matter at once,
either come on board or cast off." And the captain was turning away as
he spoke, when Barny called after him, "Arrah, thin, your honor, don't
go jist for one minit antil I ax you one word more. If I wint wid you,
whin would I be home again?"
"In about seven months."
"O, thin, that puts the wig an it at wanst. I dar'n't go at all."
"Why, seven months are not long passing."
"Thrue for you, in throth," said Barny, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Faix, it's myself knows, to my sorrow, the half year comes round mighty
suddint, and the lord's agint comes for the thrifle o' rent."
"Then what's your objection, as to the time?" asked the captain.
"Arrah, sure, sir, what would the woman that owns me do while I was
away? and maybe it's break her heart the craythur would, thinking I was
lost intirely; and who'd be at home to take care o' the childher' and
airn thim the bit and the sup, whin I'd be away? and who knows but it's
all dead they'd be afore I got back? Och hone! sure the heart id fairly
break in my body, if hurt or harm kem to them, through me. So, say no
more, Captain dear, only give me a thrifle o' directions how I'm to make
an offer at gettin' home, and it's myself that will pray for you night,
noon, and mornin' for that same."
"Well, Paddy," said the captain, "as you are determined to go back, in
spite of all I can say, you must attend to me well while I give you as
simple instructions as I can. You say you know the four points of the
wind, north, south, east, and west."
"Yes, sir."
"How do you know them? for I must see that you, are not likely to make a
mistake. How do you know the points?"
"Why, you see, sir, the sun, God bless it, rises in the aist, and sets
in the west, which stands to raison; and whin you stand bechuxt the aist
and the west, the north is forninst you."
"And when the north is fornenst you, as you say, is the east on your
right or your left hand?"
"On the right hand, your honor."
"Well, I see you know that much, however. Now," said the captain, "the
moment you leave the ship, you must steer a northeast course, and you
will make some land near home in about a week, if the wind holds as it
is now, and it is likely to do so; but, mind me, if you turn out of your
course in the smallest degree you are a lost man."
"Many thanks to your honor!"
"And how are you off for provisions?"
"Why, thin, indeed, in the regard o' that same we are in the hoighth o'
distress, for exceptin' the scalpeens, sorra taste passed our lips for
these four days."
"O, you poor devils!" said the commander, in a tone of sincere
commiseration, "I'll order you some provisions on board before you
start."
"Long life to your honor! and I'd like to drink the health of so noble a
gintleman."
"I understand you, Paddy, you shall have grog too."
"Musha, the heavens shower blessin's an you, I pray the Virgin Mary and
the twelve apostles, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, not forgettin' Saint
Pathrick."
"Thank you, Paddy; but keep your prayers for yourself, for you need them
all to help you home again."
"Oh! never fear, when the thing is to be done, I'll do it, by dad, wid a
heart and a half. And sure, your honor, God is good, an' will mind
dessolute craythurs like uz on the wild oceant as well as ashore."
While some of the ship's crew were putting the captain's benevolent
intentions to Barny and his companions into practice, by transferring
some provisions to the hooker, the commander entertained himself by
further conversation with Barny, who was the greatest original he had
ever met. In the course of their colloquy, Barny drove many hard queries
at the captain, respecting the wonders of the nautical profession, and
at last put the question to him plump:--
"Oh! thin, Captain dear, and how is it at all at all, that you make your
way over the wide says intirely to them furrin parts?"
"You would not understand, Paddy, if I attempted to explain to you."
"Sure enough, indeed, your honor, and I ask your pardon, only I was
curious to know, and sure no wondher."
"It requires various branches of knowledge to make a navigator."
"Branches," said Barny, "by gar I think it id take the whole tree o'
knowledge to make it out. And that place you are going to, sir, that
_Bin_gal (oh! bad luck to it for a _Bin_gal, it's the sore _Bin_gal to
me), is it so far off as you say?"
"Yes, Paddy, half round the world."
"Is it round in airnest, Captain dear? Round about!"
"Aye, indeed."
"O, thin, ar'n't you afeard that whin you come to the top and that
you're obleedged to go down, that you'd go slidderhin away intirely, and
never be able to stop, maybe. It's bad enough, so it is, going down hill
by land, but it must be the dickens all out by wather."
"But there is no hill, Paddy; don't you know that water is always
level?"
"By dad, it's very _flat_ anyhow, and by the same token it's seldom I
throuble it; but sure, your honor, if the wather is level, how do you
make out that it is _round_ you go?"
"That is a part of the knowledge I was speaking to you about," said the
captain.
"Musha, bad luck to you, knowledge, but you're a quare thing!--and where
is it Bingal, bad cess to it, would be at all at all?"
"In the East Indies."
"O, that is where they make the _tay_, isn't it, sir?"
"No, where the tea grows is further still."
"Further! why that must be the ind of the world intirely; and they don't
make it, thin, sir, but it grows, you tell me."
"Yes, Paddy."
"Is it like hay, your honor?"
"Not exactly, Paddy; what puts hay in your head?"
"Oh! only bekase I hear them call it Bo_hay_."
"A most logical deduction, Paddy."
"And is it a great deal farther, your honor, the _tay_ country is?"
"Yes, Paddy, China it is called."
"That's, I suppose, what we call Chaynee, sir?"
"Exactly, Paddy."
"By dad, I never could come at it rightly before, why it was nathral to
drink tay out o' chaynee. I ax your honor's pardon for bein'
troublesome, but I hard tell from the long sailor, iv a place they call
Japan, in them furrin parts, and _is_ it there, your honor?"
"Quite true, Paddy."
"And I suppose it's there the blackin' comes from."
"No, Paddy, you are out there."
"O well, I thought it stood to rayson, as I heerd of Japan blackin',
sir, that it would be there it kem from; besides,--as the blacks
themselves,--the naygers, I mane, is in them parts."
"The negroes are in Africa, Paddy, much nearer to us."
"God betune us and harm. I hope I would not be too near them," said
Barny.
"Why, what's your objection?"
"Arrah sure, sir, they're hardly mortials at all, but has the mark o'
the bastes an thim."
"How do you make out that, Paddy?"
"Why sure, sir, and didn't Natur make thim wid wool on their heads,
plainly makin' it undherstood to Chrishthans, that they were little more
nor cattle?"
"I think your head is a wool-gathering now, Paddy," said the captain,
laughing.
"Faix, maybe so, indeed," answered Barny, good-humoredly, "but it's
seldom I ever went out to look for wool and kem home shorn, anyhow,"
said he, with a look of triumph.
"Well, you won't have that to say for the future, Paddy," said the
captain, laughing again.
"My name's not Paddy, your honor," said Barny, returning the laugh, but
seizing the opportunity to turn the joke aside, that was going against
him; "my name isn't Paddy, sir, but Barny."
"O, if it was Solomon, you'll be bare enough when you go home this time;
you have not gathered much this trip, Barny."
"Sure, I've been gathering knowledge, anyhow, your honor," said Barny,
with a significant look at the captain, and a complimentary tip of his
hand to his caubeen, "and God bless you for being so good to me."
"And what's your name besides Barny?" asked the captain.
"O'Reirdon, your honor,--Barny O'Reirdon's my name."
"Well, Barny O'Reirdon, I won't forget your name nor yourself in a
hurry, for you are certainly the most original navigator I ever had the
honor of being acquainted with."
"Well," said Barny, with a triumphant toss of his head, "I have done
Terry O'Sullivan, at any rate, the devil a half so far he ever was, and
that's a comfort. I have muzzled his clack for the rest iv his life, and
he won't be comin' over us wid the pride iv his _Fin_gal while I'm to
the fore, that was a'most at _Bin_gal!
"Terry O'Sullivan,--who is he, pray?" said the captain.
"O, he's a scut iv a chap that's not worth your axin' for,--he's not
worth your honor's notice,--a braggin' poor craythur. O, wait till I get
home, and the devil a more braggin' they'll hear out of his jaw."
"Indeed then, Barny, the sooner you turn your face toward home the
better," said the captain: "since you will go, there is no need of your
losing more time."
"Thrue for you, your honor,--and sure it's well for me I had the luck to
meet with the likes o' your honor, that explained the ins and the outs
iv it, to me, and laid it all down as plain as prent."
"Are you sure you remember my directions?" said the captain.
"Troth an I'll niver forget them to the day o' my death, and is bound to
pray, more betoken, for you and yours."
"Don't mind praying for me till you get home, Barny; but answer me, how
are you to steer when you shall leave me?"
"The nor-aist coorse, your honor, that's the coorse agin the world."
"Remember that! Never alter that course till you see land,--let nothing
make you turn out of a northeast course."
"Throth an' that would be the dirty turn, seein' that it was yourself
that ordhered it. O no, I'll depend my life an the _nor-aist coorse_,
and God help any that comes betune me an' it,--I'd run him down if he
was my father."
"Well, good by, Barny."
"Good by, and God bless you, your honor, and send you safe."
"That's a wish you want for yourself, Barny,--never fear for me, but
mind yourself well."
"O, sure, I'm as good as at home wanst I know the way, barrin' the wind
is conthrary; sure the nor-aist coorse'll do the business complate. Good
by, your honor, and long life to you, and more power to your elbow, and
a light heart and a heavy purse to you evermore, I pray the blessed
Virgin and all the saints, amin!" And so saying, Barny descended the
ship's side, and once more assumed the helm of the "hardy hooker."
The two vessels now separated on their opposite courses. What a contrast
their relative situations afforded! Proudly the ship bore away under her
lofty and spreading canvas, cleaving the billows before her, manned by
an able crew, and under the guidance of experienced officers; the finger
of science to point the course of her progress, the faithful chart to
warn of the hidden rock and the shoal, the long line and the quadrant to
measure her march and prove her position. The poor little hooker cleft
not the billows, each wave lifted her on its crest like a sea-bird; but
the three inexperienced fishermen to manage her; no certain means to
guide them over the vast ocean they had to traverse, and the holding of
the "fickle wind" the only _chance_ of their escape from perishing in
the wilderness of waters. By the one, the feeling excited is supremely
that of man's power. By the other, of his utter helplessness. To the
one, the expanse of ocean could scarcely be considered "trackless." To
the other, it was a waste indeed.
Yet the cheer that burst from the ship, at parting, was answered as
gayly from the hooker as though the odds had not been so fearfully
against her, and no blither heart beat on board the ship than that of
Barny O'Reirdon.
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