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Updated: May 20, 2025
The third day Barny's fears for the continuity of his nor-aist coorse were excited, as a large brig hove in sight, and the nearer she approached, the more directly she appeared to be coming athwart Barny's course. "May the divil sweep you," said Barny, "and will nothin' else sarve you than comin' forninst me that away?
Barny lamented much, however, that the brig was not bound for Ireland, that he might practice his own peculiar system of navigation; but as staying with the brig could do no good, he got himself put into his nor-aist coorse once more, and ploughed away toward home. The disposal of his cargo was a great godsend to Barny in more ways than one.
Nothing particular occurred for the two succeeding days, during which time Barny most religiously pursued his nor-aist coorse, but the third day produced a new and important event.
Barny calculated the American was bound for Ireland, and as she lay almost as directly in the way of his "nor-aist coorse" as the West-Indian brig, he bore up to and spoke her. He was answered by a shrewd Yankee captain. "Faix, an' it's glad I am to see your honor again," said Barny. The Yankee had never been to Ireland, and told Barny so.
O no, I'll depend my life an the nor-aist coorse, and God help any that comes betune me an' it, I'd run him down if he was my father." "Well, good by, Barny." "Good by, and God bless you, your honor, and send you safe." "That's a wish you want for yourself, Barny, never fear for me, but mind yourself well."
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?"
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