CHAPTER XXVIII.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 12, 19 December 1890, Page 25

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Manus the weaver, when he ha d shut up his loom, walked about disconsolately enough. The burden of other people's troubles seemed to come and rest on his shoulders, but he did not complain nor even think of that. He was under many obligations to the gentle girl who now sought aid aad assistance at his hands, and the generous heart in his dwarfed body wa3 too large to permit him to give a thought to the trouble it put upon him. On the contrary his first intention was to go straight to the ship, where it was anchored— but then came the question, what should he do when he got there 1 Thiß was a question to which no proper answer presented itself, and he walked around and around the silent streets pondering the matter over. But for a long time bis fertile brain could evolve no project at all feasible likely to be successful.

Suddenly he thought for a moment, stopped, scratched his ear, walked again, again stopped, paused, and pondered, and finally ended by flinging his cap high in the air, caught it again, danced a few steps, and, after this series of impulsive movements, hurried off on some further movement, carefully counting the few gold coins in the bottom of his pocket, as he did so, with the tips of his fingers. His first visit was to a druggist's, where he purchased a considerable quantity of powders of a certain kind ; his next to a vintner's, where he secured a email cask of brandy. This latter he coided so that whilst the buDg could be easily opened, it was next to impossible that, whilst strapped on his back, it could come out by accident.

Waking one excuse or another for bis purchase he hurried on his way through, the gates of the city. He had little difficulty in passing, for he was well known to the guards— there was scarcely one in the city who was not cognisant of the appearance of the little Flemish bunch-back weaver and his singular dwelling place. " Weil, Manus, where are you going this hour of the night, and what is that you are carrying ?" " Hush-sh-sh I" said Manus, with a manner which might be taken as halt joke and whole earnest. " Don't spake too loud. Its flax I'm takin' down to the marshes to steep." " Flax ! lisa queer hour to go to do that, Manus, isn't it?" asked the officer somewhat incredulously. " Quare hour. Avoch man, what arc you thinkin 1 ov ? There is no otber time to go to the marshes in the swamp, forby the Btbrollers from the bailey fijlds 'ud see me an" saiza 'em for 'emselves. It must be well steeped m the Bunialough, 'an good hempen rope mcd out iv id. An' there's no time to be lost. Not a minit "

" Why, Manus ? What's all the haste for, and why do you want such good material ?" asked the officer, gaily. " You're not going to bang yourself, I hope." 11 Tut, tut, gossoon. Don't speak of these things, but listen to me — hearken to me ! There's great news, aod rope enough '11 be soon wantin'. Great news 1"

" What— what news, Manus ? " asked the officer with soma interest.

" The siege of Tredath is raised I" said Manus, in solemn confidence, " an 1 Sir Pbelim isdhraggin' his guns as fast aa he can towards the North."

" What!— No 1" cried the other, in great surprise. " Thrue as the arch ov the gate is over your head — thrue as the marshes are afore you. An' the Leinster mej '11 be comin' nigh this way afore mornin'. Oh I there'll be hangins all over the land, an' stout ropes '11 be wantin' for rebel necks 1"

" More power to you, Manus ! If that's true, it's the beat news I heard for many a day. Away with you and steep the flax, the sooner the rope is ready the better. But stay a moment !" " No, no, I can't," said Manus. " It's no time for talkin'. An 1 look here ! May be 'twould be as well for you to keep the gates locked. There'll be quare parties marchin' by here in the dark afore mornin', an' fox j s couldn't creep by as stealthy an' as soft ; so there's do knowing what might happen ; an' keep the iron bars atune you an' the could air outside."

With which injunction, falling on ears not too slow to believe or follow it, Manus hurried out with the night, passed down the scrubby commons, now known as College Greea, the only soli tary occupants of which were two bulls chained to strong upright posts, to be worried aad baited by fierce mastiffs on the morrow— a sport in which the citizens in less troblesome times hugely delighted, and which, eveu now, they could not wholly forego, the scene of operation being so free from dauger and quite beside the city gates ; thence afterwards along the marshes whereon Merrion square and its surroundings n ow siaud to tho mouth of thy river, where the vessel was anchored,

" Hello ! Who goes there ? " was the query of the sentry patrolling deck, musket in hand, as Manus, laying hold of a little skiff resting among the bulrushes, paddled himself out with his hands. " A friend !" said Manus boldly. " A friend ! What in the plague's name brings a friend here at this hour of the night ?" aßked the sentinel, with the nasal twang of a Scripture-qnoter, sadly at variance with his profane talk. " What do you want?" L "To sell my goods," said Manus. [" "We don't want your goods, you lubber. What should we want with goods at this hour of the night ? Avast 1 Come no nearer, or I shall fire." •' Hold you peace, soldier ?" cried tho weaver. The stuffs I sell are fit for all hours. They warm the blood, stir the heart, aad make the cowardly man brave." "What stuffs are they?" asked the sentinel, pausing in his walk. " Brandy 1" said Manus, in a whisper. " Brandy I The best in the wine stores from Bordeaux," 11 Come aboard ! " cried the weary and cold soldier. " Come aboard. There is the ladder. Take care. Don't lose a rung, or miss your footstep. Brandy I—ltI — It was an angel sent you. Take care. Your own life isa't worth much, but that liquor is precious beyond all telling. Come aboard. There now." Manas climbed on deck, with his precious cargo securely strapped to bis b*ck. The sentinel patted the cask aff ectionately, as thongh it wa« some human thing for which he had a more than ordinary regard, and diligently assisted to unstrap it aid place it on the deck. The noise of the boat and the consequent conversation attracted the attention of some of the mea below, who, coming on desk, were delighted to find what the visitant brought. Newa soon went through the vessel ; the cask was taken below, and was soon broached . No bargain was made with Manus ; the idea of paying him anything for it was looked upon as good fun ; and despite his protestations against its being opened until be was paid for it, the acceptable liquor was soon pasting from hand to hand in profusion. The pleading for payment by Mauus was tha cauee of uproarious hugtiter, it was so evidently absurd aad hopeless, and joined with the high spirits produced by the drink, made the ship a scene of great festivity. After some time, however, it was noticeable that some of the more noisy and high-spirited began to grow quiet and drowsy ; one after another fell back in their bunks agaiost the sides of the ship in sodden sleep, until the only one remaining alert and watchful was the disappointed and cheated trader. Even he did not stir for a long time, but in his anger and im patience dashed every mug that was used in hia despoilment on the fljor, breaking them with na much imprecation and noise as possible— indeed with even more than a reasonable degree of anger would justify. But it did not make much matter, the sailors ware insensible to his taunts and insults, and slept soundly on, tbeir stertorous breathing baanng undoubted testimony to the strength of the liquors he vended. Finding that there was but slight chance ot their being rou9ed from their repose by anything much short of a broadside, Manus started from his place, paced the upper deck, descended a short ladder to the next, and, opening tne door of an inner cabin, presented him•elf before Maurice O'Connor ! The latter had been immersed in thought. In the midat of bis reveries the door opened, dimly disclosing the face and form of the weaver. The dwarf bringing the light bitter before his face, soma peculiarity therein caught tne prisoaer's remembrance. 11 You ? I think I know you. You're tha weaver from Arras, are you not ?" " The same," said Manus. " Who works in the nook in the castle wall ? " •' Yes." "I remember. What brings yoa here? " " To tree you, Mannce O'Connor." A smile passed over the prisoner's face in Bpite of himself. There were many men on board, lusty ani full of strength — he hid heard the noise of toeir carjusal ani roys enng— ready to fight to the dea'h to keep him prisoner, ami toe idea of theddf^rmed and pany figure before him essaaig to relievo him lookei in the highest degree ridiculous and absurd. " I fancy the days of fairy knigh'-jrrantry are over," he saii rather sarcastically. " The days woen good genii relieve > imprisoned damsels and pining prisoners are not of our time." •' Maurice O'Connor," sud the weaver, angrily, '■ I did not come here ov my own m >ti n to relieva you. 1 keen because [ wa9 askni by wan that wouldn't like to see a bair ov y.mr heal injured. If you wish to escape, the way is free fjr you ; if you don't say the word, an' i won't trouble you, but — Miss Mordauot will " "Who? ' asked Maurice, perfectly assured from his visitor's earnest and angry manner that his words wire true, and startled by the introduction of her name. " Miss Mordannc." '' Sh« sent yoa 1 " "Ay ; theru'a ugly tim;s in stora for you an' she'd rather you were clear ov them. Sir Obarle* Coote has a hard ban i when he likes— an thu's mostly always. Toe men are sound asleep abjve, an' they won't waken in time, I'm thinkm 1 , to stop you." Maurice saw the whole plot at the moment ; there was no need for e'«&borate explanation, nor, indeed, now that he was certain of the weaver's mission, was there any inclination on his pare for it. "Haste id necessary if you would save your life," said the dwarf, sharply. " There.l be others here very soon that won't be glad to see you goin'. Let me loose these bonds." " Thanks," said Maurice. " These irons are locked. See, the key is hangine yonder— thera. Carefully cut these cords— there. Free again 1 1 hanks, my friend ; and Miss Mordaunt is ' Whatever he was about to say remained unsaid, or was changed lmto a startled exclamation, for at the moment the door opened, and

outside the little circle of illumination cast by the feeble light a form appeared— a woman's form ; a form wet with travelling through reedy paths and moist tall bulrushes, draggled with wandering in miry ways ; and as Manas, in the start occasioned by the opening of the door, turned the light of the lamp on the pale and frighteaed features of the unceremonious intrnder, it disclosed the face of — Oai rie Mordaunt.