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Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume I Part 35

Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon - BestLightNovel.com

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"Here let it be, then, Major," said I, holding his arm as he turned to leave the room,--"here, now; we are all so deeply interested, no place is so fit."

"Well, then," said the major, "as you desire it, now that I'm to regard you both in the light of my sons-in-law,--at least, as pledged to become so,--it is only fair as respects--"

"I see,--I understand perfectly," interrupted I, whose pa.s.sion for conducting the whole affair myself was gradually gaining on me. "What you mean is, that we should make known our intentions before some mutual friends ere we part; eh, Sparks? eh, Major?"

"Right, my boy,--right on every point."

"Well, then, I thought of all that; and if you'll just send your servant over to my quarters for our captain,--he's the fittest person, you know, at such a time--"

"How considerate!" said Mrs. Dalrymple.

"How perfectly just his idea is!" said the major.

"We'll then, in his presence, avow our present and unalterable determination as regards your fair daughters; and as the time is short--"

Here I turned towards Matilda, who placed her arm within mine; Sparks possessed himself of f.a.n.n.y's hand, while the major and his wife consulted for a few seconds.

"Well, O'Malley, all you propose is perfect. Now, then, for the captain.

Who shall he inquire for?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHARLES POPS THE QUESTION.]

"Oh, an old friend of yours," said I, jocularly; "you'll be glad to see him."

"Indeed!" said all together.

"Oh, yes, quite a surprise, I'll warrant it."

"Who can it be? Who on earth is it?"

"You can't guess," added I, with a very knowing look. "Knew you at Corfu; a very intimate friend, indeed, if he tell the truth."

A look of something like embarra.s.sment pa.s.sed around the circle at these words, while I, wis.h.i.+ng to end the mystery, resumed:--

"Come, then, who can be so proper for all parties, at a moment like this, as our mutual friend Captain Power?"

Had a sh.e.l.l fallen into the cold grouse pie in the midst of us, scattering death and destruction on every side, the effect could scarcely have been more frightful than that my last words produced. Mrs. Dalrymple fell with a sough upon the floor, motionless as a corpse; f.a.n.n.y threw herself, screaming, upon a sofa; Matilda went off into strong hysterics upon the hearth-rug; while the major, after giving me a look a maniac might have envied, rushed from the room in search of his pistols with a most terrific oath to shoot somebody, whether Sparks or myself, or both of us, on his return, I cannot say. f.a.n.n.y's sobs and Matilda's cries, a.s.sisted by a drumming process by Mrs. Dal's heels upon the floor, made a most infernal concert and effectually prevented anything like thought or reflection; and in all probability so overwhelmed was I at the sudden catastrophe I had so innocently caused, I should have waited in due patience for the major's return, had not Sparks seized my arm, and cried out,--

"Run for it, O'Malley; cut like fun, my boy, or we're done for."

"Run; why? What for? Where?" said I, stupefied by the scene before me.

"Here he is!" called out Sparks, as throwing up the window, he sprang out upon the stone sill, and leaped into the street. I followed mechanically, and jumped after him, just as the major had reached the window. A ball whizzed by me, that soon determined my further movements; so, putting on all speed, I flew down the street, turned the corner, and regained the hotel breathless and without a hat, while Sparks arrived a moment later, pale as a ghost, and trembling like an aspen-leaf.

"Safe, by Jove!" said Sparks, throwing himself into a chair, and panting for breath.

"Safe, at last," said I, without well knowing why or for what.

"You've had a sharp run of it, apparently," said Power, coolly, and without any curiosity as to the cause; "and now, let us on board; there goes the trumpet again. The skipper is a surly old fellow, and we must not lose his tide for him." So saying, he proceeded to collect his cloaks, cane, etc., and get ready for departure.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE VOYAGE.

When I awoke from the long, sound sleep which succeeded my last adventure, I had some difficulty in remembering where I was or how I had come there.

From my narrow berth I looked out upon the now empty cabin, and at length some misty and confused sense of my situation crept slowly over me. I opened the little shutter beside me and looked out. The bold headlands of the southern coast were frowning in sullen and dark ma.s.ses about a couple of miles distant, and I perceived that we were going fast through the water, which was beautifully calm and still. I now looked at my watch; it was past eight o'clock; and as it must evidently be evening, from the appearance of the sky, I felt that I had slept soundly for above twelve hours.

In the hurry of departure the cabin had not been set to rights, and there lay every species of lumber and luggage in all imaginable confusion.

Trunks, gun-cases, baskets of eggs, umbrellas, hampers of sea-store, cloaks, foraging-caps, maps, and sword-belts were scattered on every side,--while the _debris_ of a dinner, not over-remarkable for its propriety in table equipage, added to the ludicrous effect. The heavy tramp of a foot overhead denoted the step of some one taking his short walk of exercise; while the rough voice of the skipper, as he gave the word to "Go about!" all convinced me that we were at last under way, and off to "the wars."

The confusion our last evening on sh.o.r.e produced in my brain was such that every effort I made to remember anything about it only increased my difficulty, and I felt myself in a web so tangled and inextricable that all endeavor to escape free was impossible. Sometimes I thought that I had really married Matilda Dalrymple; then, I supposed that the father had called me out, and wounded me in a duel; and finally, I had some confused notion about a quarrel with Sparks, but what for, when, and how it ended, I knew not. How tremendously tipsy I must have been! was the only conclusion I could draw from all these conflicting doubts; and after all, it was the only thing like fact that beamed upon my mind. How I had come on board and reached my berth was a matter I reserved for future inquiry, resolving that about the real history of my last night on sh.o.r.e I would ask no questions, if others were equally disposed to let it pa.s.s in silence.

I next began to wonder if Mike had looked after all my luggage, trunks, etc., and whether he himself had been forgotten in our hasty departure.

About this latter point I was not destined for much doubt; for a well-known voice, from the foot of the companion-ladder, at once proclaimed my faithful follower, and evidenced his feelings at his departure from his home and country.

Mr. Free was, at the time I mention, gathered up like a ball opposite a small, low window that looked upon the bluff headlands now fast becoming dim and misty as the night approached. He was apparently in low spirits, and hummed in a species of low, droning voice, the following ballad, at the end of each verse of which came an Irish chorus which, to the erudite in such matters, will suggest the air of Moddirederoo:--

MICKEY FREE'S LAMENT.

Then fare ye well, ould Erin dear; To part, my heart does ache well: From Carrickfergus to Cape Clear, I'll never see your equal.

And though to foreign parts we're bound, Where cannibals may ate us, We'll ne'er forget the holy ground Of potteen and potatoes.

Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc.

When good Saint Patrick banished frogs, And shook them from his garment, He never thought we'd go abroad, To live upon such varmint; Nor quit the land where whiskey grew To wear King George's b.u.t.ton, Take vinegar for mountain dew, And toads for mountain mutton.

Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc.

"I say, Mike, stop that confounded keen, and tell me where are we?"

"Off the ould head of Kinsale, sir."

"Where is Captain Power?"

"Smoking a cigar on deck, with the captain, sir."

"And Mr. Sparks?"

"Mighty sick in his own state-room. Oh, but it's himself has enough of glory--bad luck to it!--by this time. He'd make your heart break to look at him."

"Who have you got on board besides?"

"The adjutant's here, sir; and an old gentleman they call the major."

"Not Major Dalrymple?" said I, starting up with terror at the thought, "eh, Mike?"

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Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume I Part 35 summary

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