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exchange; which, as the latter had no fortune but his sword, he was
glad to make. The sergeant was putting us through our exercise on
deck (the seamen and officers of the transport looking grinning on)
when a boat came from the shore bringing our captain to the ship;
and though I started and blushed red as he recognised me--a
descendant of the Barrys--in this degrading posture, I promise you
that the sight of Fagan's face was most welcome to me, for it
assured me that a friend was near me. Before that I was so
melancholy that I would certainly have deserted had I found the
means, and had not the inevitable marines kept a watch to prevent
any such escapes. Fagan gave me a wink of recognition, but offered
no public token of acquaintance; it was not until two days
afterwards, and when we had bidden adieu to old Ireland and were
standing out to sea, that he called me into his cabin, and then,
shaking hands with me cordially, gave me news, which I much wanted,
of my family. 'I had news of you in Dublin,' he said. ''Faith you've
begun early, like your father's son; and I think you could not do
better than as you have done. But why did you not write home to your
poor mother? She has sent a half-dozen letters to you at Dublin.'
I said I had asked for letters at the post-office, but there were
none for Mr. Redmond. I did not like to add that I had been ashamed,
after the first week, to write to my mother.
'We must write to her by the pilot,' said he, 'who will leave us in
two hours; and you can tell her that you are safe, and married to
Brown Bess.' I sighed when he talked about being married; on which
he said with a laugh, 'I see you are thinking of a certain young
lady at Brady's Town.'
'Is Miss Brady well?' said I; and indeed, could hardly utter it, for
I certainly WAS thinking about her: for, though I had forgotten her
in the gaieties of Dublin, I have always found adversity makes man
very affectionate.
'There's only seven Miss Bradys now,' answered Fagan, in a solemn
voice. 'Poor Nora'--
'Good heavens! what of her?' I thought grief had killed her.
'She took on so at your going away that she was obliged to console
herself with a husband. She's now Mrs. John Quin.'
'Mrs. John Quin! Was there ANOTHER Mr. John Quin?' asked I, quite
wonder-stricken.
'No; the very same one, my boy. He recovered from his wound. The
ball you hit him with was not likely to hurt him. It was only made
of tow. Do you think the Bradys would let you kill fifteen hundred a
year out of the family?' And then Fagan further told me that, in
order to get me out of the way--for the cowardly Englishman could
never be brought to marry from fear of me--the plan of the duel had
been arranged. 'But hit him you certainly did, Redmond, and with a
fine thick plugget of tow; and the fellow was so frightened, that he
was an hour in coming to. We told your mother the story afterwards,
and a pretty scene she made; she despatched a half-score of letters
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