n
the cabin table. He had not the slightest recollection of me, but when
he heard I was his lieutenant's brother, he poured out three glasses and
proposed luck all round.

"Sit down, Gallagher," said he to Tim. "I can't ask your brother to
sit, for the sake of the discipline of the ship; but I'm pleased to see
him, and if he's a handy lad like you I'll make a seaman of him."

"Barry's worth any dozen of the likes of me," said Tim, "when it comes
to sailing. If any one can get an extra tack out of the old _Kestrel_,
he can."

"Don't talk disrespectfully of your ship, lieutenant," said Captain
Keogh. "To be sure, the carpenter has been pestering me this morning
about the timbers; but I told him he'd probably only make things worse
by patching. You can't put new wine into old bottles, you know,"--here
he poured himself out a fresh glass--"and we shall hold well enough
together till we reach Bantry."

"Sligo," said Tim.

"Well, Sligo. We must keep clear of French privateers and give the
coast a wide berth. That's the very thing. This wind must have been
turned on to suit us. I positively thought the _Kestrel_ was sailing
fast to-day."

"She's well enough as she is, but if we get into dirty weather, we ought
to run in for the nearest port we can reach."

"We are much more likely to run into dead calms, and have to sit
whistling for the wind--dry work at best, but in this weather terrible."
And he gulped down his rum, and nodded a dismissal.

The captain's forecast, as it turned out, was pretty near the mark. Off
the Cornish coast we fell into a succession of calms, which kept us
practically motionless for half a week. Even the light breezes which
would have sufficed to send the _Arrow_ spinning through the water,
failed utterly to put way upon our cranky tub; and every day the
carpenter was growing more persistent in his complaints. At last
Captain Keogh ordered him to do what he pleased so long as he held his
peace, whereupon the sound of hammering and tinkering might be heard for
a day across the still water.

During these lazy days, Tim and I talked a great deal. He was full of
visions and hopes of an emancipated Ireland, and all the glories which
should belong to her.

"Think of it, Barry. Every man's land will be his own. We shall have
our own army and navy. There will be no England to tax us and bleed us
to death. We shall have open arms for the friends of liberty all the
world over. Iri