"We are ordered to Ballyporrit. An out of the way hole as a man could
wish to be buried in. It seems that there are a lot of stills at work
in the neighborhood. The gauger has applied for military aid. A nice
job we have got before us. I have had my turn at it before, and know
what it means. Starting at nightfall, tramping ten or fifteen miles
over the hills and through bogs, and arriving at last at some wretched
hut only to find a wretched old woman sitting by a peat fire, and
divil a sign of still or mash tubs or anything else. We start the
first thing to-morrow morning; so you had better get your kit packed
and your flask filled to-night. We have nineteen miles march before
us, and a pretty bad road to travel. I have just been in to Desmond's
quarters, and he is tearing his hair at the thought of having to leave
the gayeties of Cork."
"I think it is a nice change," Ralph said, "and shall be very glad to
have done with all these parties and balls. Ballyporrit is near the
sea, isn't it?"
"Yes. About a mile away, I believe. Nearly forty miles from here."
The detachment marched next morning. Ralph enjoyed the novelty of the
march, but was not sorry when at the end of the second day's tramp
they reached the village. The men were quartered in the houses of the
villagers, and the officers took rooms at the inn. Except when engaged
in expeditions to capture stills--of which they succeeded in finding
nearly a score--there was not much to do at Ballyporrit. All the
gentry resident within a wide circle called upon them, and invitations
to dinners and dances flowed in rapidly. As one officer was obliged to
remain always in the village with the detachment, Ralph seldom availed
himself of these invitations. O'Connor and Lieutenant Desmond were
both fond of society; and, as Ralph very much preferred staying
quietly in his quarters, he was always ready to volunteer to take duty
upon these occasions.
Ballyporrit lay within a mile of the sea, and Ralph, when he had
nothing else to do, frequently walked to the edge of the cliffs, and
sat there hour after hour watching the sea breaking among the rocks
three or four hundred feet below him, and the sea-birds flying here
and there over the water, and occasionally dashing down to its
surface. A few fishing boats could be seen, but it was seldom that a
distant sail was visible across the water; for not one vessel in those
days sailed for the west to every fifty that now cross the Atlantic.
The rocks upon which he sat rose in most places almost sheer up from
the edge of the sea; but occasionally they fell away, and a good
climber could make his way over the rough rocks and bowlders down to
the water's edge. As, however, there was nothing to be gained by it,
Ralph never made the attempt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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