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Updated: May 13, 2025
Treenail; "help him out of his berth." He was pinioned like the rest, and forthwith we walked them all off to the beach. By this time there was an unusual bustle in the Holy Ground, and we could hear many an anathema curses not loud but deep ejaculated from many a half-opened door as we passed along.
A line-of-battle ship, three frigates, and a number of merchantmen at anchor men-of-war lovely craft bands playing a good deal of the pomp and circumstances of war. Next forenoon, Mr. Treenail, the second lieutenant, sent for me. "Mr. Cringle," said he, "you have an uncle in Cork, I believe?" I said I had.
So away we pulled, the tide being now nearly on the turn, and presently we were so near the opening that we could see the signal lights in the rigging of the sloop of war. All was quiet on the dike. "Thank God, they have retreated after all," said Mr Treenail. "Whoo o, whoo o," shouted a gruff voice from the shore. "There they are still," said Splinter.
Still no one answered. I pushed against, the door, and found it was open, and Mr Treenail and myself immediately ascended a flight of six marble steps, and stood in the lower piazza, with the hall, or lower vestibule, before us. We entered. A very welldressed brown woman, who was sitting at her work at a small table, along with two young girls of the same complexion, instantly rose to receive us.
"Gemini! what is that now?" quoth Tip again, as we distinctly heard the commixed rumbling and rattling sound of artillery scampering along the dike. "The ship has sent up these rockets to warn us of our danger," said Mr Treenail. "What is to be done? Ah, Splinter, we are in a scrape there they have brought up field pieces, don't you hear?" Splinter had heard it as well as his junior officer.
"What do you see aloft?" repeated Mr. Treenail, while the crew, greatly puzzled, continued to follow my eyes, as they thought, and to stare up into the rigging. "Why, sir, I have thereby got a stiff neck that's all, sir." "Go and turn in at once, my good boy make haste, now; tell our steward to give you a glass of hot grog, and mind your hand that you don't get sick."
There was a bustle, and a rumbling tumbling noise within. "My lads, we are now sure of your game," sung out Treenail, with great animation. "Sling that clumsy bench there." He pointed to an oaken form about eight feet long, and nearly three inches thick. To produce a two inch rope, and junk it into three lengths, and rig the battering ram, was the work of an instant.
Treenail returned, we shook hands with Mr. , and once more shoved off; and, guided by the lights shown on board the Torch we were safe home again by three in the morning, when we immediately made sail, and nothing particular happened until we arrived within a day's sail of New Providence.
Treenail and myself, and the two blackies on the top of her, rolling in our descent over, or rather into, another large mahogany tray which had just been carried out, with a tureen of turtle soup in it, and a dish of roast-beef, and platefuls of land-crabs, and the Lord knows what all besides.
"What do you see aloft?" repeated Mr Treenail, while the crew, greatly puzzled, continued to follow my eye, as they thought, and to stare up into the rigging. "Why, sir, I have thereby got a stiff neck that's all, sir." "Go and turn in at once, my good boy make haste, now tell our steward to give you a glass of hot grog, and mind your hand that you don't get sick."
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