LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 532, 2 March 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE GHOST ON BOARD SHIP.

(Bow Bells Annual.)

Continued.

Faith, it was as much as I could do to wonder at everything I saw on boord the beautiful clipper—for clipper she was, boys, and could knock off her twelve knots an hour as easy as a bird flies. The skipper was as good a seaman as ever boxed a compass; the crew, barring the skulkers, were well trated. As for the ' ould soldiers,' the way they got hazed and started was—l must use a Yankee word—a caution.

We made the Battery at New York in a few hours over thirty days. I got leave to go on shore with the third mate, a mighty cfacint young man, and whin I toulcl him I wanted liini to take me to my cousin, by my mother's side, whose name was O'Gorman, with the small pox, a squint, and a foxy head, I thought he'd taken a seven years' lase of a laugh, and would—unless he split his sides—never do anything else but that same for the rest of his born days. To cut the matter short, he tould me the skipper had sould me as chape as a speckled orange ! So I gave up all hopes of finding my cousin and my fortune, saw as much as I could of the beautiful city, bought a trifle or two to take home, and, after another splendid run, was landed, safe and sound, onct more on the dear ould Cove of Cork.

' Then you saw no ghost in that ship ?' says Bostock. 'Faith, I did!' ' But you have told us nothing about it,' says I. Wait till a while ago. I tuck my wages, and started for the public, where I knew I should find my cousin—and right glad he was to see me; but I couldn't help feeling as if something was wrong by the way he looked and answered me, when I asked after the ould people and little Norah and Fatsey. ' Take a tumbler of punch, now,' says he : ' and we'll talk of that afterwards.'

* Not at all,' says I. ' The news, whether good or bad, will go better with the punch, so we'll have them together. How is my darlint mother ?'

'Well,' says he. ' And dad ?' I inquired. ' Well, too,' says he. ' Thank the Lord for that!' says I. ' And the little ones ?'

' Happy and hearty,' says he. ' Thanks be to heaven, again!' says I. ' But what's the matter wid you, at all, man alive ?'

' The matter wid me,' said he, ' what would be the matter wid me ?' said he.

' Sorra a one of me knows !' replied he. ' But you look as if you were at a wake widout Avhisky !' ' You didn't hear much about what happened at Ballyshevan, in Amerikay ? says he.

'Faith, you are right. Not much more than I did about Foxey O'Gorman, wid his squint and red hair !' says I, laughing to think what a fool the skipper had made of me.

' There's nothing to laugh at here !' says I. 'There's only two things that have been plintiful this season !' ' Potaties and oats V says I. ' No such luck,' says he. ' What thin ?' I asked.

' Famine and faver !' he says pat. You might have knocked me down wid a jackstraw, whin I heard these words. I raled back, and if it hadn't been for a binch that was close against the wall, which I clutched a hould of, and managed to bring myself up with, I'd have fallen full length on the floor.

' Have a good sup of this,' says he, handing inehis tumbler of punch ; 'and don't take on so/ says he. 'You are better off than most of the neighbours ! Sure death hasn't knocked at your door; and all you love are living—though they have had a hard time of it—to welcome you back.' 'You are right,' says I, as I started up, ' and the sooner I get that welcome the better. What 'am I wasting my time here for, at all at all, when I ought to be there—its only twenty miles. It's airly yet, I can be home by nightfall. I have promised to return, but I've got three days' lave, so I'm ofF at onct.'

' I won't kape you on the road, sure it's longer than ever it seemed ; but it came to an end at last. I forgot all my fatigue whin I opened the door, and stepped inside the threshhold ; it was between daylight and dark—there was no candle burning—but I could see the forms of the four people most dear to me on earth. An involuntary ' The Vargin be praised !' broke from my lips.

'My son ! my son !' almost screamed my mother, and if I had been four boys instead of one there wouldn't have been room enough on me for the kisses they all wanted to give me at the same time.

Whin the first great joy of our meeting was over, I began to ask pardon for quitting ould Ireland widout their lave.

'Don't spake about it, darlint,'said my mother; thin, pointing upwards, she added, mighty solemn, ' Glory be to Him, it was His will, and it was the best day's work ever you did. Tell him what has happened.' ' I will,' said my father. ' You ses, Phil, my son, soon after you sailed for Amerikay, the old master died, and the estate came into the hands of his nephew, a wild harumscarum sort of a chap, that kapes the hoith of company with the quality and rich people in London and Paris, and the Lord knows where else besides j but never sets his foot, nor spends a shurrick here, where the money that pays for his houses, and carriages, and the wine his foine friends drinks—when his tenants is starving—comes from. Seeing how things were likely to go, the ould agent threw up his place rather than rack the tenants any further; this just suited my gintleman, who sent over a new one, a hard, man, with a heart of stone, and he drove the poor craytures as a wolf would drive a flock of shape; the did their best, till their crops failed, to kape their bits of farms; but then—God help them ! they were dead bate —sure the famine came, and the famine brought on the faver ; they couldn't pay; they were evicted by dozens ; and the evictions brought on something worse than the famine or faver—something they hungered and thirsted for more than mate and dhrink.'

' What was that, father dear V ' Revinge !' says he. ' Revinge ! father—revinge !' I muttered. *Yis,' says he; but hush! spake low, darlin'. The boys wint out. Well, after that, it's lit ile the moon or stars were wanted to light up the night while there was a full barn on the estate.'

'The country is overrun by the po-lice and the sogers; but it is small good they have done, or are likely to do. Starving men don't care much for stale or lead; but '

Here he paused and raised his hand. ' Hush ! there's futsteps on the road, and me talking loud enough to be heard a mile off.

As he spoke, he rose, went stealthily to the door, opened it, and looked out. ' There's nothing to be afraid of, it's naither the peelers nor the sogers, it's frinds that coming. As he wint back to his sate, a line, handsome young fellow brought in a lovely girl, exclaiming as he entered, ' God save all here.

'Amen for thai; same kindly wish,'was our answer.

They were ould frinds and playmates, the son and daughter of two of the snuggest farmers on the estate ; and I well knew before I sailed for Amerikay they were engaged to bo married.

'I wasn't wrong,' said the young man, as he looked hard at me; 'it is Phil him self. How's every bit of you? sure, it's right glad I am to see you here this blessed night.' ' And me, too, Phil,' said the pretty Mary Sheam, as she took the hand young O'Rourke left free, and shook it warmly. We sat for, maybe, an hour or more, talking over ould times, and it was with a sad heart I listened to the bad news—for bad enough it was. O'Rourke tould me the rason of his visit was to let me know he and Mary had made up their minds to sail for Amerikay, wher« they had some friends doing well, and it was agreed they would go as steerage passengers with me, three days after date, in the clipper ship, George Washington. As they rose to depart, and were bidding us a good night, a low Avhistle outside caused us all to start. O'Rourke drew himself up, and compressed his lips tightly as he listened for a repetition of the signal.

[(To le continue A.)