"'Look out, all hands of ye,' cried someone, 'there's the old girl herself coming on deck; sharp's the word.' And away we scuttled right and left, some aloft, and some down one poop-ladder, as Mrs Brady, with the brigadier and his butler after her, came fuming up the other. The black made one spring over the quarter as soon as he saw her; but the Irish topman, Mick, slipped his foot amongst the shark's blood, and rolled on his back, while the old bo'sun made stand in the thick of it behind. 'Saze the villains, I charge ye, brigadier,' screamed Mrs Brady, though he and his manservant only kept dodging the boatswain round a sort of a quagmire of blood and grease, while the old vixen caught Mick by his red hair and whiskers. 'Where's my dog, ye murderous spalpeen?' said she, panting for breath; 'what have ye done with my Dianny, ye monsther? Spake, or I'll----' 'Be the holy elaven thousand, yer ladyship!' said Mick, 'an' it's _lost_ did ye think she wor! Isn't there _five_ of 'em back! Whisper! yer ladyship's riv'rence--she's _laid in_, poor craythure, an'----' '_Oh!_ you Irish thief!' Tug came both Mrs Brady's hands through his hair, while the butler caught a kick in the stomach from Mick's foot. 'Murther!' gasped the poor fellow, 'sure an' I dun' know she was ayven a faym'le, fur me own part; bad luck t' ye mates, give uz a hand. Och, an' is this the road ye thrate a counthryman, mim?' '_Me_ your countryman! ye bog-trottin' wretch ye!' screamed the old fury, her brogue getting worse the more she heated--'take _that_!--don't rise, if ye dare.' 'Faix thin, yer ladyship darlin',' said O'Hooney, grinning in spite of his hard usage, 'I tould a lie--och, lave some o' me hair!--murther intirely! I'm----' "All the time none of us could stir for sheer laughing, but seeing poor Mike like to fare hard with the old vixen, who was near as big as himself, and as strong as a horse, I whispered to the men to run round and let go the poop awning--so down it came, with a few buckets of water in it, over the five of them; and you just saw Mrs Brady's sharp elbow through the canvas, lifted for the next slap, when we had her all fast, struggling like a cat in a bag, while O'Hooney and the boatswain crept out below. 'Stiff breeze that as we've had!' said the bo'sun shaking himself on the forecastle. 'Couldn't ye've bowsed over on the old jade's pitticuts, Mick?' said one of his shipmates, 'and capsized her all standing?' 'Sorra fut you'd stir, yourself, mate,' said he, wiping his face, 'wid such a shay grinnydeer! she'd man-handle ye as asy's twurl a mop!' CHAPTER IX