Chapter 20

"Och! botheration--'T is a beautiful coost
All made up of rocks and deep bays;
Ye may sail up and down, a marvellous host,
And admire all its beautiful ways."

Irish Song.

Little did we, or could we, anticipate all that lay before us. The wind
held at north-west until the ship had got within twenty miles of the Welsh
coast; then, it came out light, again, at the southward. We were now so
near Liverpool, that I expected, every hour, to make some American bound
in. None was seen, notwithstanding, and we stood up channel, edging over
towards the Irish coast at the same time, determined to work our way to
the northward as well as we could. This sort of weather continued for two
days and nights, during which we managed to get up as high as Whitehaven,
when the wind came dead ahead, blowing a stiff breeze. I foresaw from the
commencement of this new wind, that it would probably drive us down
channel, and out into the Atlantic once more, unless we could anchor. I
thought I would attempt the last, somewhere under the Irish coast, in the
hope of getting some assistance from among the children of St. Patrick. We
all knew that Irish sailors, half the time, were not very well trained,
but anything that could pull and haul would be invaluable to us, in heavy
weather. We had now been more than a week, four of us in all, working the
ship, and, instead of being in the least fagged, we had rather got settled
into our places, as it might be, getting along without much trouble;
still, there were moments when a little extra force would be of great
moment to us, and I could see by the angry look of the skies, that these
moments were likely to increase in frequency and in the magnitude of their
importance to us.

The waters we were in were so narrow, that it was not long before we drew
close in with the Irish coast. Here, to my great joy, we saw a large
fishing-boat, well out in the offing, and under circumstances that
rendered it easy for those in it to run close under our lee. We made a
signal, therefore, and soon had the strangers lying-to, in the smooth
water we made for them, with our own main-yard aback. It is scarcely
necessary to say, that we had gradually diminished our own canvass, as it
became necessary, until the ship was under double-reefed top-sails, the
fore-course, jib and spanker. We had brought the top-sails down lower than
was necessary, in order to anticipate the time when it might be
indispensable.

The first of the men who came on board us was named Terence O' something.
His countenance was the droll medley of fun, shrewdness, and blundering,
that is so often found in the Irish peasant, and which appears to be
characteristic of entire races in the island.

"A