CHAPTER IV. MY WANDERINGS.
I CANNOT deny it,--the horrible imprecation I had heard uttered againstme seemed to fill up the cup of my misery. An outcast, without home,without a friend, this alone was wanting to overwhelm me with verywretchedness; and as I covered my face with both hands, I thought myheart would break.
"Come, come. Master Tom!" said Darby, "don't be afeard; it'll never doyou harm, all she said. I made the sign of the cross on the road betweenyou and her with the end of my stick, and you 're safe enough this time.Faix, she 's a quare divil when she 's roused,--to destroy an illigintpot of praties that way! But sure she had hard provocation. Well, well!you war n't to blame, anyhow; Tony Basset will have a sore reckoningsome day for all this."
The mention of that name recalled me in a moment to the considerationof my own danger if he were to succeed in overtaking me, and I eagerlycommunicated my fear to Darby.
"That's thrue," said he; "we must leave the highroad, for Basset will beup at the house by this, and will lose no time in following you out. Ifyou had a bit of something to eat."
"As to that. Darby," said I, with a sickly effort to smile, "Peg's cursetook away my appetite, full as well as her potatoes would have done."
"'T is a bad way to breakfast, after all," said Darby. "Do you ever takea shaugh of the pipe, Master Tom?"
"No," said I, laughing, "I never learned to smoke yet."
"Well," replied he, a little piqued by the tone of my answer, "'t isworse you might be doin' than that same. Tobacco's a fine thing for theheart! Many's the time, when I 'm alone, if I had n't the pipe I 'd belone and sorrowful,--thinking over the hard times and the like; but whenI 've filled my dudeen, and do be watching the smoke curling up, I begindhraming about sitting round the fire with pleasant companions, chattingaway, and discoorsing, and telling stories. And then I invint thestories to myself about quare devils of pipers travelling over thecountry, making love here and there, and playing dhroll tunes out oftheir own heads; and then I make the tunes to them. And after that,maybe, I make words, and sometimes lay down the pipe and begin singingto myself; and often I take up the bagpipes and play away with all mymight, till I think I see the darlingest little fairies ever you seendancing before me, setting to one another, and turning round, andcapering away,--down the middle and up again; small chaps, withthree-cornered hats, and wigs, and little red coats all slashed withgoold; and beautiful little craytures houlding their petticoats,this way to show a nate leg and foot; and I do be calling out tothem,--'Hands round!' 'That 's your sowl!' 'Look at the green fellow;'tis himself can do it!' 'Rise the jig, hoo!'--and faix 't is sorryenough I 'm when they go, and lave me all alone by myself."
"And how does all that come into your head. Darby?" "Troth, 'tis hardto tell," said Darby, with a sigh. "But my notion is, that the poor manthat has neither fine houses, nor fine clothes, nor horses, nor sarvantsto amuse him, that Providence is kind to him in another way, and fillshis mind with all manner of dhroll thoughts and quare stories and bitsof songs, and the like, and lets him into many a sacret about fairiesand the good people that the rich has no time for. And sure you musthave often remarked it, that the quality has never a bit of fun inthem at all, but does be always coming to us for something to make themlaugh. Did you never lave the parlor, when the company was sitting withlashings of wine and fruit, and every convaniency, and go downstairs tothe kitchen, where maybe there was nothing but a salt herrin' and a jugof punch; and if you did, where wais the most fun, I wondher? Arrah,when they bid me play a tune for them, and I look at their sorrowfulpale faces, and their dim eyes and the stiff way they sit upon theirchairs, I never put heart in it; but when I rise 'Dirty James,' or 'TheLittle Bould Fox,' or 'Kiss my Lady,' for the boys and girls, sure 't ismy whole sowl does be in the bag, and I squeeze the notes out of it withall my might."
In this way did Darby converse until we reached a cross road, when,coming to a halt, he pointed with his finger to the distance, andsaid,--
"Athlone is down beyond that low mountain. Now, Ned Malone's is only sixshort miles from this. You keep this byroad till you reach the smith'sforge; then turn off to the lift, across the fields, till you come to anould ruin; lave that to your right hand, and follow the boreen straight;'twill bring you to Ned's doore."
"But I don't know him," said I.
"What signifies that? Sure 'tis no need you have. Tell him you 'll stopthere till Darby the Blast comes for you. And see, now, here 's all youhave to do: put your right thumb in the palm of your lift hand,--thisway,--and then kiss the other thumb, and then you have it. But mindyou don't do that till you 're alone with him; 't is a token betweenourselves."
"I wish you were coming with me, Darby; I'd rather not leave you!"
"'Tis myself mislikes it, too," said Darby, with a sigh. "But I daren'tmiss going to Athlone; the major would soon ferret me out; and it'sworse it would be for me."
"And what am I to do if Mr. Basset comes after me?"
"If he has n't a throop of horse at his back, you may laugh at him inNed Malone's, And now good-by, acushla; and don't let your heart below,--you 'll be a man soon, you know."
The words of encouragement could not have been more happily chosen toraise my drooping spirits. The sense of opening manhood was alreadystirring within me, and waited but for some direct occasion to elicit itin full vigor.
I shook Darby's hand with a firm grasp, and assuming the easiest smile Icould accomplish, I set out on the path before me with all the alacrityin my power.
The first thought that shot across my mind when I parted with mycompanion was the utter loneliness of my condition; the next--andit followed immediately on the other--was the bold consciousness ofpersonal freedom. I enjoyed at the moment the untrammelled liberty towander without let or control. All memory of Tony Basset was forgotten,and I only remembered the restraint of school and the tyranny of mymaster. My plan--and already I had formed a plan--was to become afarmer's servant, to work as a daily laborer. Ned Malone would probablyaccept of me, young as I was, in that capacity; and I had no otherambition than such as secured my independence.
As I travelled along I wove within my mind a whole web of imaginarycircumstances: of days of peaceful toil; of nights of happy andcontented rest; of friendship formed with those of my own age andcondition; of the long summer evenings when I should ramble alone tocommune with myself on my humble but happy lot; on the red hearth inwinter, around which the merry faces of the cottagers were beaming, assome pleasant tale was told;--and as I asked myself, would I exchange alife like this for all the advantages of fortune my brother's positionafforded him, my heart replied, No! Even then the words of the piperhad worked upon me, and already had I connected the possession of wealthwith oppression and tyranny, and the lowly fortunes of the poor man asalone securing high-souled liberty of thought and freedom of speech andaction.
I trudged along through the storm, turning from time to time to seethat I was not pursued; for as the day waned, my fear of being overtakenincreased, and in every moaning of the wind and every rustle ofthe branches I thought I heard Tony Basset summoning me to stop andsurrender myself his prisoner. This dread gradually gave way, as theloneliness of the road was unbroken by a single traveller; the wildhalf-tilled fields presented no living object far or near; the thickrain swooped along the swampy earth, and, in its misty darkness, shutout all distant prospect; and a sadder picture eye never rested on.
At length I reached the ruined church Darby spoke of, and following thetrack he indicated, soon came out upon the boreen, where for the firsttime some little shelter existed.
It was only at nightfall, when fatigue and hunger had nearly obtainedthe victory over me, that I saw, at some short distance in front, thelong roof of a well-thatched cabin. As I came nearer, I could perceivethat it contained several windows, and that the door was sheltered by asmall porch,--marks of comfort by no means common among the neighboringfarmers; lights moved here and there through the cabin; and the voicesof people driving in the cows, and t
he barking of dogs, were welcomesounds to my ear. A half-clad urchin, of some seven years old, armedwith a huge bramble, was driving a flock of turkeys before him as Iapproached; but instead of replying to my question, "If this were NedMalone's," the little fellow threw down his weapon, and ran for hislife. Before I could recover from my surprise at his strange conduct,the door opened, and a large, powerful-looking man, in a long bluecoat, appeared. He carried a musket in his hand, which, as soon as heperceived the figure before him, he laid down within the porch, callingout to some one inside,--
"Go back, Maurice,--it's nothing. Well, sir," continued he, addressingme, "do you want anybody hereabouts?"
"Is this Ned Malone's, may I ask?" said I.
"It is," answered he; "and I am Ned Malone, at your service. And whatthen?"
There was something in the cold, forbidding tone in which he spoke, aswell as in the hard severity of his look, that froze all my resolutionto ask a favor, and I would gladly have sought elsewhere for shelter forthe night had I known where to look.
The delay this indecision on my part created, caused him to repeathis question, while he fixed his eyes on me with a dark and piercingexpression.
"Darby the Blast told me," said I, with a great effort to seem at ease,"that you would give me shelter to-night. To-morrow morning he 's tocome here for me."
"And who are you," said he, harshly, "that I am to take into my house?In these troublesome times a man may ask the name of his lodger."
"My name is Burke. My father's name was Burke, of Cremore; but he 'sdead now."
"'T is you that Basset is after all day, is it?"
"I can't tell; but I fear it may be."
"Well, some one told him that you took the Dublin road, and another senthim up here, and the boys here sent him to Durragh. And what are youafter, young gentleman? Do you dislike Tony Basset? Is that it?"
"Yes," said I; "I 'm resolved never to go home and live with him. Hemade my father hate me, and through him I have been left a beggar."
"There 's more than you has a score to settle with Tony. Come into thehouse and get your clothes dried. But stop, I have a bit of a cautionto give you. If you see anything or anybody while you 're under my roofthat you did n't expect--"
"Trust me there!" interrupted I, eagerly, and making the sign the piperhad taught me.
"What!" cried Malone, in astonishment; "are you one of us? Is a sonof Matt Burke's going to redress the wrongs his father and grandfatherbefore him inflicted? Give me your hand, my brave boy; there 's nothingin this house isn't your own from this minit."
I grasped his strong hand in mine, and with a proud and swelling heart,followed him into the cabin.
A whisper crept round the various persons that sat and stood about thekitchen fire as I appeared among them; and the next moment one afteranother pressed anxiously forward to shake hands with me.
"Help him off with his wet clothes, Maurice," said Malone, to a youngman of some twenty years; and in a few seconds my wet garments were hungon chairs before the blaze, and I myself, accompanied with a friezecoat that would make a waistcoat for an elephant, sat basking beforethe cheerful turf fire. The savory steam of a great mess of meat andpotatoes induced me to peep into the large pot over the fire. A heartyburst of laughing from the whole party acknowledged their detection ofmy ravenous hunger, and the supper was smoking on the board in a fewminutes after. Unhappily, a good number of years have rolled over myhead since that night; but I still hesitate to decide whether to myappetite or to Mrs. Malone's cookery should attribute it, but certainlymy performance on that occasion called forth unqualified admiration.
I observed during the supper that one of the girls carried a plateful ofthe savory dish into a small room at the end of the kitchen, carefullyclosing the door after her as she entered; and when she came out,exchanging with Malone a few hurried words, to which the attention ofthe others was evidently directed. The caution I had already received,and my own sense of propriety, prevented my paying any attention tothis, and I conversed with those about me, freely narrating the wholecircumstances of my departure from home, my fear of Basset, and my firmresolve, come what might, never to become an inmate of his house andfamily. Not all the interest they took in my fortunes, nor even the warmpraises of what they called my courage and manliness, could ward off thetendency to sleep, and my eyes actually closed as I lay down in my bed,and notwithstanding the noise of voices and the sounds of laughter nearme, sank into the heaviest slumber.
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I Page 5