Orange and Green | Page 7

anchor would hold for a moment on that rocky bottom, in such a sea.
On reaching the village, they joined a group of fishermen who were standing under the shelter of the end of a cottage.
"Can nothing be done, Considine?" Mr. Davenant shouted, in the ear of one of the fishermen.
"Not a thing, yer honour. She has just let drop one of her anchors."
"But they could not hope it would hold there," Mr. Davenant said.
"Not they, your honour, onless they were mad. They hoped it would hoult so as to bring her head round; but the cable went, as soon as the strain came. I saw her head go sharp up to the wind, and then fall off again; not that it would have made much difference in the end, though it would have given them half an hour longer of life."
"Could we get a boat off with a line, if she strikes?"
"Look at the sea, yer honour. Mr. Walter has been asking us; but there's no boat could get through that surf, not if all Ireland dipinded on it."
"Where is Walter?"
"Sure and I can't tell ye, yer honour. He was here a few minutes since; but what's come of him is more nor I can tell ye."
"He went off with Larry Doolan," a boy, who was standing next to the fisherman, shouted.
"Then, as sure as fate, they are up to some mischief," Mr. Davenant said. "Walter is bad enough by himself, but with Larry to help him, it would take a regiment to look after them."
"They can't be in much mischief tonight, yer honour," the fisherman said.
"Look, sir, she's coming in fast. She draws a power of water, and she will strike in a minute or two."
"She seems crowded with men. Can nothing be done to help them?" the priest asked.
"Nothing, your reverence. Praying for them is the only thing that can help the poor sowls now."
"You are sure it's not possible to launch a boat, Considine?"
"Look for yourself, yer honour. There's not a boat on the coast that could get through them breakers."
"There she goes."
Even above the noise of the storm, a loud cry was heard, and the crash of breaking timber as, with the shock, the main and mizzen masts, weakened by the loss of the foremast, went over the sides. The next great wave drove the vessel forward two or three fathoms.
"That's her last move," Considine said. "The rocks will be through her bottom, now."
"They are off," a boy shouted, running up.
"Who are off?" Considine asked.
"The young squire and Larry Doolan."
"Off where?" Mr. Davenant exclaimed.
"Off in the curragh, yer honour. Me and Tim Connolly helped them carry it round the Nose, and they launched her there. There they are. Sure you can see them for yourself."
The party rushed out from the shelter, and there, a quarter of a mile along on the right, a small boat was seen, making its way over the waves.
"Be jabers, yer honour, and they have done it," the boatmen said, as Mr. Davenant gave a cry of alarm.
"I didn't think of the curragh, and if I had, she could not have been launched here. Mr. Walter has hit on the only place where there was a chance. Under the shelter of the Nose it might be done, but nowhere else."
The Nose was a formidable reef of rocks, running off from a point and trending to the south. Many a ship had gone ashore on its jagged edge, but, with the wind from the northeast, it formed somewhat of a shelter, and it was under its lee that Walter and Larry had launched the curragh.
The curragh is still found on the Irish coast. It is a boat whose greatest width is at the stern, so much so that it looks like a boat cut in two. The floor is almost flat, and rises so much to the bow that three or four feet are entirely out of water. They are roughly built, and by no means fast, but they are wonderfully good sea boats, for their size, and can live in seas which would swamp a boat of ordinary build.
Walter had, with the assistance of Larry Doolan, built this boat for going out fishing. It was extremely light, being a mere framework covered with tarred canvas. As soon as Walter had reached the village, and found that the fishermen considered that no boat could possibly be put out, he had found and held a consultation with Larry.
"Do you think the curragh could go out, Larry?"
"Not she, yer honour. She would just be broke up like an eggshell with them breakers."
"But she might float, if we got beyond them, Larry."
"She might that," Larry agreed, "seeing how light she is."
"Well, will you go with me, Larry?"
"Sure and I would go anywhere with yer honour, but