Kilgorman Part 3

Presently, his honour came in with a candle. He had evidently been up all night, and looked haggard and anxious.

"Get up," said he, "and make the boat ready."

I rose to obey, when he called me back.

"Come here," said he harshly. And he held the candle to my face and stared hard at me. It was a sinister, sneering face that looked into mine, and as I returned the stare my looks must have betrayed the hatred that was in my mind.

"Which of Gallagher's boys are you?" he demanded.

"Barry, plaze your honour."

"How old are you?"

"I think twelve, sir--the same as Tim." For Tim and I were twins.

He looked hard at me again, and then said, "What was it your mother sent word?"

"She said would your honour plaze to come quick, for she felt like dying, and wished to spake to you before."

"Was that all?"

"Indeed, sir, she talked queerly the night about a dead la.s.sie, and called on your honour to save my father, if you plaze, sir."

He went to a cupboard and poured himself out a gla.s.s of raw whisky and drank it. Then he beckoned to me to follow him down to the boat.

CHAPTER TWO.

A LOAD OF TURNIPS.

Mr Gorman seated himself silently in the stern, while I shoved off, and hauled up the sail.

The storm was blowing still, but more westerly, so that the water was quieter, and we could use the wind fairly to the point of the shoals.

After that it would be hard work to make my father's cabin.

I handed the sheet to his honour, and curled myself up in the bows.

Maurice Gorman was no great seaman, as I knew. But it was not for me to thrust myself forward when he took the helm. Yet I confess I felt a secret pleasure as I looked at the breakers ahead, and wondered how soon he would call me aft to steer him through them.

To-night, as it seemed to me, he hugged the eastern sh.o.r.e more than usual, thereby laying up for himself all the harder task when the time came to cross in the face of the wind.

"Begging your honour's pardon," said I at last, "luff her, sir."

He paid no heed, but held on as we went till the shoals were long distanced, and the black cliff of Kilgorman rose above us.

The day was now dawning, and the terrors of the place were somewhat diminished. Yet I confess I looked up at the gaunt walls and chimneys with uneasiness.

Now, as we came nearer, the mystery of the moving lights of the night before suddenly cleared itself. For snugly berthed in a narrow creek of the sh.o.r.e lay the strange cutter whose daring entry into the lough I had yesterday witnessed. At the sight of her the curiosity I had felt, but which my poor mother's message had driven from my head, revived.

Who and what was she? and what was she doing in Lough Sw.i.l.l.y?

Then I recalled the strange words his honour had spoken last night in my hearing, about the arms being landed and stowed. And I remembered hearing some talk among the fisher folk of foreign weapons being smuggled into Ireland against the king's law, and of foreign soldiers coming, to help the people to tight against his Majesty.

I was too young to understand what it all meant, or why his Majesty was to be fought with; for we were comfortable enough in our little cabin, what with the sheep and my mother's savings, and my father's fish, and the little that Tim and I could earn ferrying pa.s.sengers over the lough.

I was too young, I say, to know what wanted altering, but the sight of this queer-looking craft set me thinking about it.

"Get out your oar," said his honour suddenly, letting the sheet fly, and running the boat into the creek.

My heart sank, for I hoped we were going across to where my poor mother lay.

I got out the oar, and paddled the boat into the creek till we came up to the stern of the cutter. _Cigale_--that was her name, painted on the stern-board; but there was nothing to show her port or the flag she flew.

At the sound of our bows grating on her side one of her crew ran aft and looked over. He had a strange foreign appearance in his red cap, and curls, and white teeth, and looked like some startled animal about to spring on us. But his honour shouted something in French, and the man scrambled over the side of the cutter with a grin and jumped lightly into our boat, talking rapidly all the while.

I do not think Mr Gorman understood all he said, for he presently ordered the man to hold his peace, and stepped ash.o.r.e, beckoning me to follow him.

I obeyed after making fast the painter. As we scrambled up the rocks and reached the road which leads down from Kilgorman to the sh.o.r.e, I was surprised to see several carts standing laden with sacks or straw, as though on the way to market. Still more surprised was I when among the knot of men, half-foreign sailors, half countrymen, who stood about, sheltering as best they could from the sleet (for the weather was coming in yet worse from the west), I recognised my father.

If he noticed me at first he made no sign of it, but walked up to Maurice Gorman with a rough nod.

"Is all landed and stowed?" said his honour, repeating the question of last night.

"'Tis," said my father shortly, nodding in the direction of the carts.

"How many are in the house?"

"There's two hundred."

"Father," said I, breaking in at this point, in spite of all the Gormans of Donegal, "you're needed at home. Mother's dying, and sent me for his honour to speak to her."

My father started, and his sunburnt cheeks paled a little as he looked at Mr Gorman and then across the lough. He would fain have flown that moment to the beat, but I could see he was too far under his honour's thumb to do so without leave.

"We cannot spare you, Mike, till the job is finished. We must get the carts to Derry before night."

"I'm thinking," said my father, "Barry here knows the road to Derry as well as me. Who'll be minding a young boy on a cart of turnips?"

His honour mused a moment, and then nodded.

"Can you get the cutter away in this wind?" asked he.

"I could get her away as easy as I got her in," said my father; "but she's well enough as she is for a day or two, by your honour's leave."

"Father," said I, all excitement, "sure it wasn't you ran the cutter into the lough round Fanad yesterday? I knew n.o.body else could have done it!"

My father grinned at the compliment.

"That's the boy knows one end of a s.h.i.+p from the other," said he.