"Blatheration!" exclaimed my chum, smacking the butt of his rifle on the deck and making the petty officer who was on the other side of the hatchway jump round in a jiffy, looking marline-spikes in our direction. "Ye jist say, now, if we don't join her! Sure, I dramed ov her last noight, alannah. Oi'd dropped off into a swate shlape afther thet chap made sich a row toomblin' out ov his hammick thet wor next moine, bein' three sheets an' more, faith, in the woind whin he come off from shore; an' I dramed ez how, Tom, we two wor aboord the _Active_, which Oi wor lookin' over ounly yisterday whin Oi come by Pitch-House Jetty, where she's lyin' preparin' for say. Yis, we wor aboord her roight enuf; an' Oi heerd the bo'sun poipe to `make sail,' an' the order guv 'way aloft, lay out on the yards an' loose tops'ls. Thin Oi thinks ez how Oi'm ashore, ez will ez aboord; an' Oi says the _Active_ a-sailin' out o' harbour, ez nate ez ye plaize wid all her upper sails an' flyin' jib, an' fore-topmast stays'l set!" "I don't think you're likely to see that, Mick," said I, laughing. "It may do well enough in a dream; but I've heard father say that no ship has ever worked out of harbour under sail alone for the last forty years or more!" "Begorrah, just ye wait an' say," rejoined he. "Oi hed a paice ov shamrock, which I tuk out ov the fairy ring, sure, at Glasnevin, under me hid last noight whin Oi wor shlapin', an' me drame's bound fur to come thrue!" Strangely enough, so it turned out, too. A week after we joined her, all things being ready and her preparation for sea being complete, the _Active_ cast off the hawsers mooring her to the bollards on the jetty; and then, disdaining the assistance of any of the harbour tugs, the commodore sent the men aloft to make sail, and took her out to Spithead under her canvas alone, conning the ship himself from his station aft. I may say I assisted at the operation, being one of the hands who went aloft to set the mizzen-royal; and, I may add, that father told me when I came home on the termination of our cruise, at the end of the ensuing spring, our exploit was the talk of the town for months afterwards! CHAPTER FOURTEEN. "IN THE BAY OF BISCAY, O!" "Tom," said Mick to me, when we came down from the yards, by which time the ship was abreast of Southsea Pier on her way out in the fairway, "Oi'm afther settin' oop, faith, fur a conjirer, now me drame's coom roight!" "You're more than a conjurer, Mick," I replied to this, laughing. "You're a prophet!" "Begorrah!" he rejoined with his usual grin, "it ain't mooch profit Oi'll git oot ov it, me darlint, or yersilf ayther, fur thet matther-- aboot ez mooch, faith, ez Pat O'Connor got whin he shaved his pig!"