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Updated: May 27, 2025
We tow'rt on six week thinking aitch day wur th' last, We shifted, an' shifted, till neaw we're quoite fast; We lived upo' nettles, whoile nettles wur good, An' Waterloo porridge the best o' eawr food, Oi'm tellin' yo' true, Oi can find folk enow, As wur livin' na better nor me.
Yis, we wor aboord her roight enuf; an' Oi heerd the bo'sun poipe to `make sail, an' the order guv 'way aloft, lay out on the yards an' loose tops'ls. Thin Oi thinks ez how Oi'm ashore, ez will ez aboord; an' Oi says the Active a-sailin' out o' harbour, ez nate ez ye plaize wid all her upper sails an' flyin' jib, an' fore-topmast stays'l set!"
When he heard the swish of the green waters cleaving before her keel, he put his helm hard down. "Hail them, Blob!" he screamed, and scrambling forward brought the lug-sail down with a rattle. "Boat ahoy" a voice from the frigate "who are you?" Blob stood in the bows, one hand on the flapping jib. "Oi'm Blob Oad what killed Nabowlin Bownabaardie," he yelled.
"Did yez notice, ma'am, if she touched wood whin she said it?" asked Maggie. "I didn't notice." "Thot's it, thot's it," declared the maid, with conviction. "Oi'm not superstitious, but Oi nivver brag about mesilf thot Oi don't touch wood. Mark me worruds, whin a person boasts and fergits to touch wood, something happens to thot person. I nivver knew it to fail."
"Oi'm fer doin' it, sorr," broke in Mahoney, "an' Oi'm spakin' fer ivery Irishmon in H troop." "And you, Miles?" "I'm not so bloomin' fond of a fight, Lieutenant," he said, scratching his head, "but I like to stay fighting after I once get started. Ain't that about the size of it, boys?" Several heads nodded, and one fellow growled, "Hell! we kin giv' 'em the same dose a third time."
WITH the elasticity of youth the boys slept away their fatigue during the night, but woke up the next morning ravenously hungry. "What in the world are we goin' to do for grub, Si?" asked Shorty, as soon as he got his eyes fairly open. "Oi know what Oi'm goin' to do," said Hennessey.
"It's little the loss to ye not ter be her, an' Oi'm thinkin' loikely Jack Keith will be moighty well plased ter know the truth. What's 'Black Bart' so ayger ter git hold av this Maclaire gyurl fer?" "I do not in the least know. He must have induced me to go to that place in the desert believing me to be the other woman. Yet he said nothing of any purpose; indeed, he found no opportunity." Mrs.
"Tom," said Mick to me, when we came down from the yards, by which time the ship was abreast of Southsea Pier on her way out in the fairway, "Oi'm afther settin' oop, faith, fur a conjirer, now me drame's coom roight!" "You're more than a conjurer, Mick," I replied to this, laughing. "You're a prophet!"
"We'll take ye back to camp for a little visit before we take ye to the 'Pen. A year in the cooler will do ye moore good, Oi'm thinkin', than anny other tratement. Here, Guy, you take the end av the rope and fetch the feller to camp, while I help Caleb." Guy was in his glory.
Kit, the one sailor aboard, here on his own element, wished to lord it out alone. "How d'you feel, Blob?" he called, hoping for the best. "Whoy," said Blob, the breeze in his teeth, "Oi'm that empty Oi can hear me innuds rollin. Oi could just fancy a loomp o porruk fatty-loike." The Parson raised himself. "Swine," he moaned, "have you no soul?" He turned on his elbow.
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