of the principal men running into the water up to their arm-pits, striving who should have the honour of carrying him ashore. One of these was an Irish merchant, who did a thriving trade with the pirates; another was a schoolmaster; and the third was an Englishman, who had formerly been a tradesman in London. These gentry conducted Sir William to Cormat’s house amidst huzzas and shouts of welcome, everybody seeking to ingratiate himself with the supposed pirate. “‘Happy was he,’ says Monson, ‘to whom he would lend his ear.’ Falling into discourse, one told him they knew his friends, and though his name had not discovered it, yet his face did show him to be a Manwaring.” In short, they made him believe he might command them and their country, and that no man ever was so welcome as Captain Manwaring. At the house a scene of revelry ensued; the harper played merrily for the company, who danced on the floor, which had been newly strewed with rushes for the occasion. The women made endless inquiries for their distant lovers, and no suspicion seems to have crossed the minds of any in regard to the fate of the two ambassadors, who were supposed to be enjoying themselves with the sailors on board. In the height of the festivities, the Englishman was particularly communicative; showed Sir William a pass for the interior which he had obtained by false pretences from the sheriff, authorising him to travel from Clare to make inquisition for goods supposed to have been lost at sea, and which enabled him to journey and sell his plunder without suspicion. He even proffered the services of ten mariners who were hiding in the neighbourhood, and Monson, of course, pretended heartily to accept their services, promising a reward. He asked the man to write them a letter, which at once he did as follows:—“Honest brother Dick and the rest, we are all made men, for valiant Captain Manwaring and all his gallant crew are arrived in this place. Make haste, for he flourisheth in wealth, and is most kind to all men. Farewell, and once again make haste.” Monson took charge of the letter, and would, doubtless, have used it, had not the approach of night obliged him to bring about the _denouement_ of this play. The comedy was all at once to change into a tragedy.