“No, no, sir, believe me; it’s no fog-bank, that large dark mass to leeward there,--that’s Cintra.” “Land!” cried I, springing up, and rushing upon deck; “where, Skipper,--where is the land?” “I say, Charley,” said Power, “I hope you mean to adopt a little more clothing on reaching Lisbon; for though the climate is a warm one--” “Never mind, O’Malley,” said the major, “the Portuguese will only be flattered by the attention, if you land as you are.” “Why, how so?” “Surely, you remember what the niggers said when they saw the 79th Highlanders landing at St. Lucie. They had never seen a Scotch regiment before, and were consequently somewhat puzzled at the costume; till at last, one more cunning than the rest explained it by saying: ‘They are in such a hurry to kill the poor black men that they came away without their breeches.’” “Now, what say you?” cried the skipper, as he pointed with his telescope to a dark-blue mass in the distance; “see there!” “Ah, true enough; that’s Cintra!” “Then we shall probably be in the Tagus River before morning?” “Before midnight, if the wind holds,” said the skipper. We breakfasted on deck beneath an awning. The vessel scarcely seemed to move as she cut her way through the calm water. The misty outline of the coast grew gradually more defined, and at length the blue mountains could be seen; at first but dimly, but as the day wore on, their many-colored hues shone forth, and patches of green verdure, dotted with sheep or sheltered by dark foliage, met the eye. The bulwarks were crowded with anxious faces; each looked pointedly towards the shore, and many a stout heart beat high, as the land drew near, fated to cover with its earth more than one among us. “And that’s Portingale, Mister Charles,” said a voice behind me. I turned and saw my man Mike, as with anxious joy, he fixed his eyes upon the shore. “They tell me it’s a beautiful place, with wine for nothing and spirits for less. Isn’t it a pity they won’t be raisonable and make peace with us?” “Why, my good fellow, we are excellent friends; it’s the French who want to beat us all.” “Upon my conscience, that’s not right. There’s an ould saying in Connaught, ‘It’s not fair for one to fall upon twenty.’ Sergeant Haggarty says that I’ll see none of the divarsion at all.” “I don’t well understand--” “He does be telling me that, as I’m only your footboy, he’ll send me away to the rear, where there’s nothing but wounded and wagons and women.” “I believe the sergeant is right there; but after all, Mike, it’s a safe place.” “Ah, then, musha for the safety! I don’t think much of it. Sure, they might circumvint us. And av it wasn’t displazing to you, I’d rather list.” “Well, I’ve no objection, Mickey. Would you like to join my regiment?”