Afloat and Ashore | Page 9

with redoubled vigour.--"It's wonderful how
you managed them."
"Arrah, sure it's a way I've got wid me, honey," said he with a wink.
Still, I could see he was pleased with my remark all the same, from the
smile of contentment that overspread his face as he added: "Bless ye
though, me darlint, sure an' it's ownly blarney arter all!"
"And what is that?" I asked.
"Faix, ya moost go owver to old Oireland to larn, me bhoy," he
answered with a laugh. "Wait till ye kiss the blarney stone, an' thin ye'll
know!"
"I suppose it's what father calls the suaviter in modo," said I, laughing

also, he put on such a droll look. "And I think, Mr Rooney, you possess
the fortiter in re, too, from the way you can speak sometimes."
"Bedad, I don't ondercumstubble," he replied, taking off his cap and
scratching his head reflectively, rather taken aback by my Latin
quotation; "though if that haythen lingo manes soft sawder, by the
powers I've got lashins av it! Howsomedevers, youngster, we naydn't
argify the p'int; but if the foorst mate were ownly aboord, d'ye know
what I'd loike to do?"
"What?" I inquired.
"Why, trate them dock loompers to grog all round. They've worruked
loike blue nayghurs; specially that l'adin' man av theirs, that chap there,
see him, wid the big nose on his face? I'd loike to pipe all hands down
in the cabin to splice the main-brace, if ownly the foorst mate were
aboord," he repeated in a regretful tone. Adding, however, the next
moment more briskly: "An', by the blissid piper that played before
Moses, there he is!"
CHAPTER THREE.
WARPING OUT OF DOCK.
While the boatswain was still speaking, and expressing his regret at not
being able to show the stevedores that he properly appreciated the
mode in which they had done their work, I noticed a boy come out
from somewhere on the deck below, just underneath where we were
standing, and make his way towards the forepart of the ship, apparently
in a great hurry about something or other.
I wondered what he was going to do, and was puzzling my head about
the matter, not liking to interrupt Tim Rooney, when the boy himself
the next instant satisfied my curiosity by going up to the ship's bell,
which was suspended in its usual place, under the break of the
forecastle, just above and in front of the windlass bits away forward;
when, catching hold of a lanyard hanging from the end of the clapper,
he struck four sharp raps against the side of the bell, the sound ringing

through the air and coming back distinctly to us aft on the poop. I
should, however, explain that I, of course, was not familiar with all
these nautical details then, only learning them later on, mainly through
Tim Rooney's help, when my knowledge of ships and of sea terms
became more extended.
Just as the last stroke of the bell rang out above the babble of the men's
voices and the shuffling noise of their feet moving about, the four
strokes being sounded in pairs, "cling-clang, cling-clang!" like a double
postman's knock, a slim gentlemanly young man, with brown hair and
beard and moustache, who was dressed in a natty blue uniform like
mine, save that he wore a longer jacket and had a band of gold lace
round his cap in addition to the solitary crown and anchor badge which
my head-gear rejoiced in, appeared on top of the gangway leading from
the wharf alongside. The next instant, jumping down from the top of
the bulwarks on to the main-deck, a couple of strides took him to the
foot of the poop ladder, quickly mounting which, he stood beside us.
"Sure, an' it's proud I am to say yez, sorr," exclaimed the boatswain,
touching the peak of his dilapidated cheese-cutter in salute, and with a
smile of welcome on his genial face; "though it's lucky, bedad, ye didn't
come afore, Misther Mackay, or faix ye'd have bin in toime to be too
soon."
"How's that, Rooney?" inquired the other with a pleasant laugh,
showing his nice white teeth. "Instead of being too early, I'm afraid I
am a little late."
"The divil a bit, sorr," replied Rooney. "We've only jist this viry minnit
struck down the last av the cargo; an' if ye'd come afore, why, it's
ruckshions there'd a bin about our skulkin', I know."
"No, no," laughingly said the young officer; who, I suppose, was older
than he looked, for Tim Rooney told me in a loud whisper while he was
speaking that he was the "foorst mate" of the ship. "I'm not half such a
growler as you are, bosun; but, all the same, I'm glad you've got the