Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798Reed, Talbot Baines
History
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798
Reed, Talbot Baines
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Juvenile fiction; Ireland -- Juvenile fiction
"At Rouen," persisted the skipper.
"No! here, I tell you."
The skipper's reply was to make a grab at his companion, who, however,
was quick enough to elude him and jump ashore.
"There, thief and robber, villain and assassin, I wash my hands of you!
I have done with you. Reach Havre when you like. Adieu!" and he spat
at the barge.
The skipper looked as if he would have followed him, but thought better
of it. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled out a cigar. The other,
after standing insultingly on the bank for some minutes, heaping all
sorts of imprecations and taunts on his late employer, swaggered away,
and was presently caught up in a knot of belated sightseers hastening to
the scene of the insurrection.
I waited till the coast was clear, and then descended to the river side.
"Citizen bargee," said I, with a salute, "do you want a man to-day?"
The skipper looked up at me and took his cigar from his lips.
"Can you sail a barge?" said he.
"Ay, and tow it too if you like," said I. "And as for wages, suit
yourself, and give me what you like at the journey's end."
"I serve the Republic," said the man.
"_Vive la Republique_," said I. "She does not desert her sons."
"Your name?" demanded he. "Belin," said I, inventing a name for the
occasion. "You are engaged, Belin," said the skipper; "we start this
minute."
With a grateful heart I stepped on board and busied myself with casting
loose the rope.
"Observe, Belin," said my new master, noticing approvingly that at least
I knew how to handle a rope, "your name under me is Plon, that of a
vagabond scoundrel who has just deserted me, and who is named on the
way-bill. There are his jersey and his cap; put them on, and keep your
counsel."
"Pardon, my captain," said I, when I had obeyed him, "what is our
business for the Republic?"
"We carry coats and boots for the Army of the North."
"Long live the Army of the North," said I devoutly.
We soon reached the bridge which marked the boundary of the city. Here
our bill of lading was carefully scrutinised, and our cargo inspected to
make sure we carried no fugitive hidden in the midst of it.
As for me, I took my skipper's advice, and sat smoking my cigar and
saying nothing while the ceremony lasted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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