It was a calm night when Joshua Raynes took the boat from Fishguard to Rosslare. He did not go through the miseries his child had undergone and he steamed away through the calm waters in a boat at least three times the size. He had never been in Ireland in his life before, and when he arrived at Rosslare was much bothered with the tongue employed by the good-natured country folks. He said, "Eh, eh, what do you want to tell me?" over and over again. He told each individual he met that the said individual was stony deaf, and also dumb. The Irish person, be it man or woman, gossoon or girleen, objected to his manner, refused to be considered deaf and dumb when he could sphake the beautiful tongue--the Irish, bedad--to say nothing of that paltry tongue, the English. Joshua felt himself getting crosser and crosser each moment. What was he to do? How was he to hold out? How was he to find the man called Desmond who had spoken evil things of his Tilly? He did not in the least admire the beauty of the country. He had no eye for the green of the Emerald Isle nor her lofty mountains, nor her flowing streams and rushing rivers. He talked so angrily that people left him alone and the train that should have taken him to Mallow went off without him. He might have lingered at Waterford goodness knows how long, waiting for a man of the name of Desmond and trying to talk to stone-deaf and dumb people, who only talked gibberish, when a bright-eyed, sparkling-looking individual came suddenly on the platform, stared at Joshua, said a few words to the people round and presently came up and introduced himself. "I am told ye are lookin' for The Desmond," he said. "You won't find his high, great mightiness standing in a bit of a shanty like this. I'm Malachi Desmond, son of The Desmond. I've just had a big sale of horses this morning and am going back to Desmondstown in a quarter of an hour. If you want to see The Desmond I've no manner of objection." "I want to see _Mr._ Desmond of Desmondstown," said the coal-merchant. "There isn't such a person. _Mr._ Desmond! For the Lord's sake, man, ye are mighty ignorant!" "Am I, sir? Well, I don't want you to tell me what I am, and what I am not." "Then you listen to me," said Malachi. "The Desmond is next door to a king, and he lives in his kingdom, and I'm his son, Malachi. Be the powers! I wonder if you're the father of that nasty little bit-thing that stuck pins in the saddle of Starlight. I wouldn't be a scrap surprised if you were, nor flustered neither. You've got the same malicious gleam of the eye. We have cats at Desmondstown and _I'm_ one." "You are a very big cat," said Joshua. "Well, I'm one when I like. Do ye want to see The Desmond or do ye not?" "There isn't such a name, it is silly," said the coal-merchant.