At last, by dint of signs and repeating the question, I made out
something that sounded like "Innishkea," and when I pointed to the
island to the north the same answer came. When the land to the eastward
was designated he said Muhllet a Blackshod over and over. I gave him a
bit of silver, and the meaning of that he understood quite well, for he
grinned and closed his fist tight upon it, at the same time giving a
pull to his long front lock. I never heard such outlandish lingo in my
life as the man spoke, but I remembered the sounds of some of the words,
and when I got back to the ship I went into the cabin, and the carpenter
and I got out the map that showed the coast of Ireland, for Chips
insisted that the man was talking Gaelic, and that it was either Ireland
or Scotland whose shore lay off to the eastward.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" I cried suddenly, my attention arrested by a name.
"Here we are, Mr. Chips. The island of Inniskea--and off here is the
peninsula of Mullet that encloses the waters of Blacksod Bay."
So I knew where I was at last!
But there was lots to be done. Arming the crew, we took the fastenings
off the hatch, and ordered the prisoners into the boat. We left them on
shore with a barrel of ship's bread and a half-barrel of salt meat. And
then we rowed back, and prepared to do some impromptu calking, and fit
the old hulk in a better condition for putting to sea.
The _Duchess of Sutherland_ was loaded with machinery for some sort of
crushing business, and the rest of her cargo was cheap cloths and
print-stuffs, probably for the East Indian market. According to her
papers, she was bound for Calcutta.
The seam that had done most of the leaking was hardly a foot beneath the
surface of the water as she lay on even keel, we discovered. It had
opened up badly forward, and again amidships. So we set about lightening
her first before we hove her down.
Rigging a block and tackle, we jettisoned some heavy bits of machinery,
and found that the cargo had been very badly and loosely stowed.
The brig--she had been outfitted in a hurry--carried four guns, short
carronades of heavy weight, on her deck, and we shifted these to
starboard side, and then we rigged out an anchor at the end of a spar;
and I was surprised to see what a purchase we got on her, and how well
all this answered for our ends. As soon as they could, the carpenter and
the crew set about calking her with hemp from an old cable, whistling
and humming away merrily.
They progressed finely with the job, and as there was nothing for me to
do, I went aloft. I could smell the tar that they were boiling in the
galley, and was hoping that we could finish our work in time to get
under way that evening, when all at once I felt a jar, as if the vessel
had struck something below, and it appeared to me that we heeled a
little more to port.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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