JIM ROSSITER.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1018, 6 April 1883, Page 4

JIM ROSSITER.

LITERATURE.

* How He Made a Port.— (Continued.) “ 1 Boundo Waterfordo ?’ I shouts at him, thinkin’ be might be hard of hearing. He starts back and shakes his head. Then I pauses and reflecks, an’ it sthrnck he was almost sartin to be bound for Queenstown or Falmouth. “ ‘ Queen-towno !’ I shouts agen. ‘ Si, si,’ he cries, running up and down the quarterdeck like a caged monkey, ‘I think I understand you now, me cnrly-headed bucko,’says 1. ‘ Fillo, fillo!’ I bawls at him, pointing to the canvas yloft; and then the youngsther puts his fist to his mouth an’ makes some remark in his own gibberish, an’ about twenty hands were scramblin’ up the rattlin’s while you’d be axing for the loan of ,a seek. An’ then I marks the coors for ’em by the compass—south and by west. “ ’Got a charto, Capitano ?” I axes ; an’ he seemed to understand that, for he goes to the companion and beckons to me to follow him dawn to the cabin ; and there I sees the cause of the throuhle, and ’pon me song it sent a cowld thrill through me ould bones. A chart was spreed out on the cabin table, and the rats wer aflher atin’ the whole Irish coast out of it. “ ‘ Tare an’ onons, Capitano,” say's I, ‘ve are all losto, losto !’ He shakes his head at me, as much as to say, ‘ Thrue for you, Jim, me hoy ;’ but 1 thought to myself then that it was the best of mo play to put a bould front on, an’, as we were scuddin’away from the-land with a fine noitherly breeze, the deuce a much harm could come to us for a few days at any rate. ‘No bono, no bono,’ says I; but I’m the grandest piloto that ever swam salt wather, so make yourself aisy in your mind, me darlin’ man ;’ and then I putsiny hand tenderly on his shoulder to give him courage. ‘ I know plenty, Capitano,’ shouts I with a wink : and I think the wink cornforced the poor craychure, for he produced a bottle of dirty sour wine an’ a piece of pie, and I tucked into the victuals like a cock at a blackberry.’ “ Then I lays meself down on the cabin sofy tor I was mortial tired ; and moreover I wanted to show that I had an aisy conscience, an’ was makin’ a straight coorse for Queenstown. Although I closed me peepers, I didn’t sleep a great dale, for I was cogitatin’in mo mind how I was to get the ship into safety. Even with the help of a chart I’d find some throuhle in makin’ Queenstown, as I have never been much at ■ sea in my lifetime, although I’m the grandest pilot that over sor foot in a ship—but that’s nayther here not hereafter, as Mohammed remarked when his coffin was floatin’ between earth and heaven.

“ Well, me darlin’ man, but it was nightfall when I ventured on deck wance more, an’ the northerly breeze was on the wane, an’ it smelt like as if a s’utherly wind wasn’t very far off. Be the pipers of Moll Kelly !’ says I to myself, * but if it comes on thick an’ dirty from the s’uth’ard we’ll be all lavin’ our bones high and dhry on some part of me native say coast.’ An’ sure enough it came on from the s’ulh’ard before mornin’ thick as butter-milk and dirty as a gallon of coal-tar. There was nothing left for me to do but to ’bout the ship and trust to Providence for pickin’ up Waterford agen or some other neighbourin’ port. We gets the ship round and fills her sails an’ of coorse the dago thought ’twas mighty onnateral to be going back over the same ground ; but I gives him anither cunnin’ wink, an’ says I : “‘Capitano, (rado vindo, trade vindo thravels round in circle ’; and I winds my arm round my head a few times to explain matters more clearly, and blew a few whiffs out of my mouth at the same time, an’ the poor angashore thought I was the grandest pilot as ever he’d see with his two eyes; an’ so I am too, though 'tis meself that says it. “ Whin we got about I calculated after lookin’ at the Scrivan’s dead reckonin’, that we were about ninety miles sou’-sou’-West of Watherford harbour, so that be keepin’ square yards on the bark, an runnin’ before the sou’west wind, we might to pick up Watherford agen about daybreak next morning’, or if we didn’t pick up Watherford, why we find ourselves in the St George’s Channel, unless, of coorse we got wracked before hand on the Wasford coast. We sails along all day, the breeze keepin’ purty steady from the wan point, an’ at nightfall we took most of the canvas off the ship, accordin’ to ordhers from meself. I kem on deck at daybreak, and sure enough, there was land in sight, an’ at about breakfast time I thought, I recognised the Cannibeg lightship, so I puts the bark’s head a little more to the aist’ard, as I thought it was the best of me play to thry and get into St George’s Channel afther all, where the ship would have plenty of say-room. About noonday we shaved the Tuskar rock be a miricle, an’ then I knew it was all plain sailin’ for another day or so.” t! ‘Hnrroo, me jewel!’ says I, with a shout, clapping the Capitano on the back, ‘they may talko about sailin’ be deadreckonin’, but here’s a specimen of sailin’ bo dead-knowledge.’ ‘ Si, si,’ says he, grinnin’ at me like a play aethor. “As soon as I calculated we ought to be into the middle of the George’s channel, and as the wind was then nearly south, I orders all sail to be crowded on the bark once more, an’ her coorse to be laid due north as straight as a split in a peeler’s poll. Thin I wint down to me dinner wud an aisy conscience an’ a heart as light as a bad sovereign. “ Now, thinks I to meself, before we’re much ouldher we’ll fall in wud a pilotboat aither from Liverpool or from Dublin, an* I can lay all the blame on the 'Dago’s chart. An’ as I was reflectin’ on Dublin and Liverpool, it sthrikes me all of a suddint that there was such a fine harbour as Kingstown in Dublin Bay. I had often heard tell of Kingstown and seen picters of it, so I should be sartin to recognize it, an’ I could tell me brave Capilano that I thought ’twas Kingstown and not the Queenstown he wanted. So afther tucking in a heavy male of food an’dhrink in the cabin, I comes on deck, an’ orders the ship’s coorse to he althered a few points, so that we might creep up on the Irish side. “ ‘ Huggo starboard© coasto poco, Capitano,’ says I, addressing the man in his own lingo. 1 Huggo poco, coasto, this idde o’ waving me left hand toward the Irish shore as I stood facing the bows. “He understhood me after a bit, so we hugged the Irish shore all day, an’ at night I agen took the precaution of gettin’ nearly all sail off the ship, so that if we did fall foul of a rock or an ould sandbank in the dark, we mightn’t hit it too great a wollop. The Capitano seemed mighty proud of me an’ of the illigant way I was pilotin’ his ship, an’ he trated me to lashin’s of atein’an’drinkin.’ He wasn’t a bad soovt at all, although he was a dago ; but shure even a black hen lays white eggs, an’ sometimes there do be a power of good qualities hid under the oily, skin of a Tallyan. An’, afther all, isn’t he wan of God’s- crayclmres like ourselves ?”

Here Mr Kossiter was visibly affected, and found if necessary to indulge in copious draughts of gin and water before he could proceed further with his narrative- “ Well, the next day,” continued Jim, after he had wiped his mouth carefully with the sleeve of his coat, and rubbed his forehead with a red cotton handkerchief, which he excavated from his battered silk hat, “ we got abreast of a big headland which I med up rne mind was Bray Head, bekase of it’s sthrange appearance, and bekase of the fine big bay which was stretchin’ itself out in front of ns. I didn’t know whether to be glad or the other way whin I saw a cutther bearin’ down on us, which I med sure was a pilot cutther, an’ sartin to be cornin’ from Dublin on the look-out for sthrange visithors. “ The dago will discover all me manoeuvres, says I, as soon as we get the pilot aboord,or soon afther at any rate, an maybe tis a few inches of cauld steel he’ll be puttin’ into me stomick for desavvin’ and misladin’ him for them furriners have quare tempers, and some of 'em would think no more of givin’ you a taste of a dagger than they would of flavourin’ your victuals wud garlic. In due coorse the pilot cutther kem alongside, and a pilot was hoisted aboord out of her. “‘0 mother of Moses]’ says I, whin I saw him standin’ on deck,' 1 but ’tis young Mike Delaney !’ Mike had sarved on the Watherford pilot cutther for a short spell, on’ as he was a smart knowledgable young fellow, he picked up a liape of furrin lingo, and could act as an intarpenter on an emergency if required. I had heard tell he was on the Dublin -pilot service, but sure it never stliruck me that such a wonderful piece of luck should fall in me road as to have him put aboord of me misfortunate hark. “‘Mike, me darlin’ fellow!’ says I goin’ over to him, an givin’ him a hearty shake of the hand. “ ‘ Jim Rossiler,’ says he, wud his eyes openin’ as wide as a niggea’s mouth when there’s a plate of boiled rice in front of him. ‘ What in the name of heaven brought you here ?’ “ ‘ Och, divarision !’ says I, as the man remarked when he galloped his cat through the ashes. “ Then I tnk him on wan side an’l towld him straight all about the whole matther, an’ sure poor Mike laughed until you’d think his heart would break. “ ‘ An’ now,’ says he, ‘ I think I may tell you that you’re likely to fall in for a slice of rale good luck after all, for this very ship, the Jackyrno—l fogot to tell you that was her name—is a long spell overdue, an’ I’ve heard that Misther O’Flaherty of Dublin has bought her cargo an’ wants it hadlj', so whin he hears she is in Dublin Bay, he’s sure to give his ordhers there, for he’s a dacent man, an’ wouldn’t thry for to take a mane advantage on account of the mistake in not calling for orders to Queenstown.’ “ Be jabers, I nearly jumped clane out of me skin at the good news, “ ‘ May the heavens be your bed, Mike, mo darlin’ man,’ says 1 ; ‘ you’re better nor a reprieve. An’ now, Mike, if you love me, bring the bark into Kingstown, an’ tell the skipper it’s all fair an’ square ; that they shifts (he name of the port over an’ hether ; and that wan time ’tis the Queen’s town, accordin’ as ’tis a King or a Queen that rules the waves,’ “ ‘ All right,’ says Mike. Then he goes up to the Capitano, an’ Mike explains in the lingo to him, for he spakes the . langwidge a sight better nor I do, though I’m not a bad hand at all, hut me accent is agen me. “ Well, to make a long story short, it all turned out as young Delaney said it would ; an’ the dacent marchent in Dublin gev the Jackyrno orders to’discharge at the North Wall; an’ meself wint home to the wife with twinty golden sovereigns in me pocket, as the reward of me.honest sarvice. An’ indeed, though tis meself that say's it, I’m the grandest pilot that—” “ Ever told a lie or drank a quart of gin at a sitting, Eh, James ?”—Tinsley's Magazine.