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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Well, there's no use in talkin' aboot it now, anyhow; but when do you expec' to be there?" "Why, you see we must wait antil I can tell how the wind is like to hould on, before I can make up my mind to that." "But you're sure now, Barny, that you're up to the coorse you have to run?"
"I thought you might be asleep, Barny." "Not when you bid me wake, sir; and there's a nice fire ready for you, and as fine a dhrop o' potteen as ever tickled your tongue, sir." "You're the lad, Barny! good fellow I'll be back with you by-and-by;" and off whipped Dick again.
In this manner was the terraqueous part of our system, when Parra Ghastha's mare, after havin' taken a cowld collation on Barny Branagan's grass, was returnin' to her master's side o' the merin; an' Barny Branagan's goats, havin' tasted the sweets of Parra Ghastha's cabbages, were on their way acrass the said merin to their own side.
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."
Barny now determined on a manoeuvre, classing him among the first tacticians at securing a good retreat. Moreau's highest fame rests upon his celebrated retrograde movement through the Black Forest. Xenophon's greatest glory is derived from the deliverance of his ten thousand Greeks from impending ruin by his renowned retreat.
The brig was immovable, and Barny finished with a duet volley of prayers and curses together, apostrophizing the hard case of a man being "done out o' his nor-aist coorse." "A-hoy there!" shouted a voice from the brig, "put down your helm or you'll be aboard of us. I say, let go your jib and foresheet, what are you about, you lubbers?"
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.
Up in a corner sat Barny, surrounded by the seniors of the village, sawing the fiddle with indefatigable vigor, and leading the conversation with equal spirit.
"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.
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."
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