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Updated: June 19, 2025
Ef it wor a chap loike that `Ugly' now, the sulky baste ez wouldn't hev a koind wurrd fur ye, loike a Christian, since ye saved his rascally loife last year, begorrah, Oi could say the sinse ov it; but, fur a chap loike yersilf, Tom, fur to do it, with ivverythin' to loose, Oi'm ashamed on ye!"
"'Twas in the Cath'lic Chapel I saw her first, me oi roiling round as usual to see fwhat was to be seen, 'You're too good for Bragin, my love, thinks I to mesilf, 'but that's a mistake I can put straight, or my name is not Terence Mulvaney. "Now take my wurrd for ut, you Orth'ris there an' Learoyd, an' kape out av the Married Quarters as I did not.
Above all broaden their minds. Give them education and the Divine tachin' will find a surer restin' place. Ignorance and dirt fill the hospitals and the asylums, and it is THAT so many of the priests are fosterin'." "I'll not listen to another wurrd," cried Father Cahill, turning away. O'Connell strode in front of him. "Wait. There's another thing.
Oi give ye me wurrd an' Oi've yure wurrd an' that is sufficient. The paper can go to the shaarks where it belongs." He then descended into the cabin and returned with the paper they had signed, which he tore in two and cast into the sea. The next morning the Captain and Paul went ashore for the clearance papers and that afternoon anchor was weighed and the "Foam" stood away for the south.
"Divil a shaky," interposed the hon. member for Tipperary. "Arrah, fwy wud the chap call on the Daity? Fishper did ye iver foine justice in a coort? Be me sowl, Oi'd take the man's wurrd agin all the coorts in Austhrillia. An' more betoken divil blasht the blame Oi'd blame him fur sthrekin a match, whin dhruv to that same." All mix eh? "Much the same in English, Theophile," I observed.
It is East Caicos, Oi know the bay well an' it has a great reputation of bein' a resort fur pirates in olden days; an' mark me wurrd, b'y, the visit to that old black will be the means av makin' our fortune. Instead av headin' fur Little Cayman to-morrow mornin', we'll pint her fur East Caicos. It is over fure hundred miles north by east from here; but it will pay us to make the run."
"Now don't go for to say as I'm disturbing on ye, Passon," he remonstrated, mildly; "I ain't said a mortal wurrd! I was onny jes' keepin' my eye on the clap gate yonder, in case the party in the churchyard might walk through, thinkin' it a right-o'-way. Them swagger folk ain't got no sort of idee as to respectin' private grounds." Walden's eyes flashed. "A party in the churchyard?" he repeated.
"Byes, byes," he said, "if there had been twinty yards more the Rhondda would have won. Now d'ye moind, Takia, ye divil . . . d'ye moind! Keep th' byes in hand till I give ye th' wurrd! . . . An' whin ye get th' wurrd, byes! . . . Oh, Saints! Shake her up when ye get th' wurrd!" The third heat was closely contested.
Their wurrd goes they're straight men. If they had Windy corralled all night, as Nick sez . . . fwhy! . . . that let's Windy out." He was silent awhile, then: "That harse av Windy's," he burst out with an oath, "I thought 't'was a cinch. Somethin' passin' rum 'bout all this. There's abs'lutely no mistake 'bout th' harse. Somebody in this god-forsaken burg must ha' used him tu du th' killin' wid.
He moved a step or two, then again turned: "I shall want you later on in the orchard, the grass there needs attending to." A slow grin pervaded Bainton's countenance. "Ye minds me of the 'Oly Scripter, Passon, ye does reely now!" he said "Wi' all yer different orders an' idees, y'are behavin' to me like the very moral o' the livin' Wurrd!" Walden looked amused. "How do you make that out?"
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