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- 5206
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- 5136
- text
- were, to ask whether there were any of his countrymen among us. There
were two of them; one, a lad of sixteen—a bright, curly-headed
rascal—and, being a young Irishman, of course, his name was Pat. The
other was an ugly, and rather melancholy-looking scamp; one M’Gee,
whose prospects in life had been blasted by a premature transportation
to Sydney. This was the report, at least, though it might have been
scandal.
In most of my shipmates were some redeeming qualities; but about M’Gee,
there was nothing of the kind; and forced to consort with him, I could
not help regretting, a thousand times, that the gallows had been so
tardy. As if impelled, against her will, to send him into the world,
Nature had done all she could to insure his being taken for what he
was. About the eyes there was no mistaking him; with a villainous cast
in one, they seemed suspicious of each other.
Glancing away from him at once, the bluff priest rested his gaze on the
good-humoured face of Pat, who, with a pleasant roguishness, was
“twigging” the enormous hats (or “Hytee Belteezers,” as land beavers
are called by sailors), from under which, like a couple of snails,
peeped the two little Frenchmen.
Pat and the priest were both from the same town in Meath; and, when
this was found out, there was no end to the questions of the latter. To
him, Pat seemed a letter from home, and said a hundred times as much.
After a long talk between these two, and a little broken English from
the Frenchmen, our visitors took leave; but Father Murphy had hardly
gone a dozen rods when back he came, inquiring whether we were in want
of anything.
“Yes,” cried one, “something to eat.” Upon this he promised to send us
some fresh wheat bread, of his own baking; a great luxury in Tahiti.
We all felicitated Pat upon picking up such a friend, and told him his
fortune was made.
The next morning, a French servant of the priest’s made his appearance
with a small bundle of clothing for our young Hibernian; and the
promised bread for the party. Pat being out at the knees and elbows,
and, like the rest of us, not full inside, the present was acceptable
all round.
In the afternoon, Father Murphy himself came along; and, in addition to
his previous gifts, gave Pat a good deal of advice: said he was sorry
to see him in limbo, and that he would have a talk with the consul
about having him set free.
We saw nothing more of him for two or three days; at the end of which
time he paid us another call, telling Pat that Wilson was inexorable,
having refused to set him at liberty, unless to go aboard the ship.
This, the priest now besought him to do forthwith; and so escape the
punishment which, it seems, Wilson had been hinting at to his
intercessor. Pat, however, was staunch against entreaties; and, with
all the ardour of a sophomorean sailor, protested his intention to hold
out to the last. With none of the meekness of a good little boy about
him, the blunt youngster stormed away at such a rate that it was hard
to pacify him; and the priest said no more.
How it came to pass—whether from Murphy’s speaking to the consul, or
otherwise, we could not tell—but the next day, Pat was sent for by
Wilson, and being escorted to the village by our good old keeper, three
days elapsed before he returned.
Bent upon reclaiming him, they had taken him on board the ship; feasted
him in the cabin; and, finding that of no avail, down they thrust him
into the hold, in double irons, and on bread and water. All would not
do; and so he was sent back to the Calabooza. Boy that he was, they
must have counted upon his being more susceptible to discipline than
the rest.
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