Part 5

“I thought ye passed man an’ horse for sixpence,” says King James.

“So we do,” says Jimmy, “if the rider sticks to his saddle.”

“Well, I suppose there’s no use in hagglin’ about it,” says King James, “though I regard the ha’penny as extortion.”

“Divil a use of arguin’,” says Jimmy, “an’ I despises your slandhers.”

So the King hands over the sixpence ha’penny, copper by copper, as if he wor partin’ wud his life’s blood, for ’tis very near in his daylin’s he was.

“Maybe you’d like a resate for this,” says Jimmy, who was fairly disgusted wud the way the King grumbled an’ growled over a few ha’pence.

“You can send it afther me to France,” says James the Second, not seein’ it was humbuggin’ him Jimmy was, an’ wud that he dug his spurs into his horse an’ away he galloped over the bridge.

“Ah!” says Jimmy, lookin’ afther him as he rethrated, “’tis no wondher they call you ‘dirty Shamus’! However,” says he, “I’ve passed my word to put King Billy off the scent, an’ Jimmy Murphy never broke a promise to man or mortial.”

An’ puttin’ King James’s coppers into his pocket, Jimmy went back into the toll-house, an’ was soon fast asleep.

About four o’clock—broad daylight, of coorse—he was started out of a dhrame of himself sittin’ in Parlyment wud a crown on his head, by a tunderin’ rattle of horse hoofs; an’ goin’ out from the toll-house he saw a great sighth of horse-sogers, all dhressed in yellow clothes, pressin’ up to the gates.

“Open, quick!” cried a big man, wud a crown on the back of his poll, givin’ the bars a backhanded wipe of his swoord.

“What’s your business, if you plaize?” says Jimmy. “We don’t open here till six o’clock, unless on an emergency.”

“Do you know who I am?” says the big chap on the horse.

“I partly guess you’re King William the Orangeman,” says Jimmy.

“That’s a good guess,” says the horseman, “for that’s my name an’ occupation sure enough, an’ I give you my word it’s a rale case of emergency that brings me here. Tell me,” says he, “did James the Second pass through this gate this mornin’ or last night?”

“He did not,” says Jimmy.

“Maybe,” says King William, “he climbed over it.”

“No, nor undher it aither,” says Jimmy.

“Well, that puzzles me,” says King William, “for ’twas only at Kilmacow beyant we lost the scent of him, an’ I made sure ’twas for Watherford he was flyin’.”

“Perhaps,” says little Jimmy, “’tis to New Ross he went.”

“Perhaps,” says King William, “but I have my doubts of it. Are you sure he didn’t pass through this gate?”

“Sartin,” says Jimmy.

“Well then,” says King William, “he must aither have gone on to New Ross or swum across the river.”

“Wisha!” says Jimmy, fearin’ King James’s fat would be in the fire if the Orangemen tuk it into their heads to hunt for him in Watherford. “Wisha! how could an exhausted man swim three-quarthers of a mile in the cowld of the airly mornin’?”

“Maybe,” says King William, “he made a raft an’ crossed on it.”

“A raft!” says Jimmy. “I suppose you think he’s a descindant of Robinson Crusoe?”

“There’s no knowin’ what thricks he’d be up to,” says King Billy. “Anyhow, I have my notions that ’tis in the city of Watherford we’ll nab him; but to be on the safe side, I’ll divide my min.”

Begor, Jimmy feared it was all over with King James thin, an’ he was sore vexed to think that all his sthrategy had gone for nothing so far, an’ ’twas more aiger than ever he was now to put the sogers off the thrack.

“Come here, Rawhead!” says King William to a big lump of an Orange throoper. “Take a hundhred min wud you into the city, an’ I’ll go on to New Ross wud the rest. Search every public-house for him,” says he, “an’ every ship at the quay.”

Then King William blew a few blasts out of a silver-mounted bugle, an’ the min divided themselves into two lots.

“Now thin,” says he to Jimmy Murphy, “throw open the gates, an’ let Captain Rawhead an’ his throopers pass!”

“You must pay full toll, you know, before I puts a kay in the lock,” says Jimmy, thinkin’ that the big sum of money might frighten the Orangemen off.

“How much do you make it?” says King William.

“It’s sixpence a horse,” says Jimmy—“a heavy charge, but there’s a special Act of Parlyment for it.”

“That’s two pound ten,” says King William. “Will you take my note of hand for the amount?”

“I won’t,” says Jimmy, “for I’m not allowed to dale in anything but coin of the realm.”

“You can charge it agen the Naational Debt,” says King William. “I’m rather short of change at the moment.”

“That seems to be a general complaint,” says Jimmy.

“’Tis,” says King William. “Are you agreeable? I give you my word we charges everything agen the Naational Debt.”

“I’m only a sarvint,” says Jimmy, “an’ my ordhers are to take nothing but money, an’ good money too.”

“’Tis a rock of obstinacy you are,” says King William; “but I’ll thry what I can do” says he, for he was a perseverin’ man at any rate, an’ had his mind fixed on gettin’ his follyers through the gates at any sacrifice.

So he rode his horse about through the sogers, an’ between ’em all they made up the two pound ten, an’ King William passed the money through the bars of the gate into Jimmy’s fist.

Of coorse poor Jimmy hadn’t a word more to say then, so he tuk his kays out of his pocket, an’ wud a sore heart he opened the gates for Captain Rawhead an’ his hundhred min.

“At any rate,” says he to himself, “I’ve dodged King Billy about for a long spell, an’ if poor James the Second has any gumption in him he’ll be half-way down the river by the time the sogers gets into the city.”

Well, when King William had galloped away on the road to New Ross an’ Captain Rawhead had started to cross the bridge, poor Jimmy went back into the toll-house an’ fell fast asleep again. He was awoke this time by a man shoutin’ into his ear,—

“Jimmy! Jimmy, _avic_! get up!”

Little Jimmy started off the stretcher he was dozin’ on, an’ rubbed his eyes, an’ who did he see standin’ alongside him but an ould frind of his, Mick Gorman by name, that kept the “Royal Oak” in the city of Watherford!

“Good morra, Mick,” says Jimmy; “an’ what brings you here at this time of day?”

“Begor, wan ’ud think ’twas a dormouse you wor,” says Mick, “for ’tis bawlin’ at you I’ve been for the past five minutes, an’ every minute is worth its weight in goold now.”

“What time is it?” axes Jimmy, yawnin’.

“On the sthroke of five,” says Mick Gorman.

“Thin ’tis about an hour since the sogers went over the bridge. Did you see any Orangemen in the city?”

“Indeed an’ I did,” says Mick; “an’ ’tis by raison of that I’ve made such an airly visit to yerself.”

“Is that so?” says Jimmy.

“’Tis,” says Mick Gorman. “I must tell you,” says he, “how matthers stand, an’ then we’ll howld a council of war.”

“All right,” says Jimmy, “fire ahead, an I’ll keep listenin’.”

“Well,” says Mick, “about two hour ago I was woke out of bed by a double knock at the hall door, an’ puttin’ on my throwsers, I went downstairs an’ opened the premises. ‘I wants refreshment for man an’ baste,’ says a sthranger that was standin’ outside howldin’ a horse by the bridle. ‘Are you a bony fidy?’ says I. ‘I am,’ says he. ‘I’ve thravelled hundhreds of miles since I went to bed last.’ ‘All right,’ says I. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Well,’ says he, ‘I must ax you a queshthion first.’ ‘What’s that,’ says I. ‘Are you an Orangeman?’ says he. ‘Is it jokin’ you are?’ says I. ‘No,’ says he, ‘I’m in fair airnist.’ ‘Arrah! my good man,’ says I, ‘there was never wan of my breed or generation that ’ud have inthercourse wud an Orangeman except to take his money.’ ‘Very well,’ says the sthranger. ‘Thin I’ll tell you my name, if you’ll promise to keep it to yerself.’ ‘I’ll pass my word so far,’ says I. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘my name is King James the Second.’

“Begor, Jimmy,” says Mick Gorman, “I was sthruck all of a heap when I found ’twas the King of all England I was spaykin’ to, so says I, ‘If you’ll step into the parlour, Sir, I’ll attend to you meself as soon as I’ve put up the royal horse.’ So King James came in, an’ as soon as I’d given the horse a mash of bran and a few dabs of a wisp, I went into the parlour to the King. ‘I hope you’ll pardon me for keepin’ your Majesty standin’ at the door,’ says I. ‘Hush!’ says he. ‘Call me plain Misther Stuart, if you plaize, for no wan must know who I am at all. An’ if you’ll cook me a rasher an’ some eggs at wance I’ll feel obliged.’ So I makes off for the kitchen an’ got the fire lit an’ the rasher an’ the eggs cooked in a quarther of an hour, which is quick work I can tell you, Jimmy Murphy. Then I takes the male in to King James, an’ as soon as he had swallyed the grub he says: ‘Now I’m placin’ myself in your hands complately. I see you’re an honest man,’ says he.”

“How did he see that?” says Jimmy, intherruptin’ Mick.

“I suppose most kings is judges of characther,” says Mick Gorman.

“I hope he’s not a judge of noses,” says Jimmy, wud a grin; “for there’s ‘twenty per sint over proof’ marked on yours as plain as print.”

“Do you mane to insult me?” says Mick, lookin’ as black as a hearse-horse.

“Ah! it’s only my joke,” says Jimmy. “Sure there isn’t much to choose, from a gauger’s point of view, between your nose an’ my own.”

“Begor, I believe not,” says Mick Gorman, rubbin’ a brand new grog blossom on the left side of his nostril. “At any rate ’tis King James’s own words I’m afther tellin’ you, an’ you can believe me or not just as you like. ‘I see you’re an honest man,’ says the King of all England to me; ‘an’ the likes of you is as scarce as blackberries at this time of year. What I want you to do,’ says he, ‘is to get me aboord of a ship that’s sailin’ for France immajertly, an’ not to let a sowl know who I am. Can you do that?’ says he! ‘I think I can,’ says I, ‘for there’s a brother of mine the captain of a lugger, an’ he’ll be startin’ from the quay on the high wather.’ ‘When is that?’ says King James. ‘A thrifle before seven o’clock,’ says I. ‘That’ll do,’ says he, ‘an’ if you manages the job for me, I’ll make a Mimber of Parlyment of you when I comes into my rights again!’”

“Is that what he promised you?” says Jimmy.

“’Tis,” says Mick. “It’s his Majesty’s own words I’m tellin’ you. What makes you ax the queshtion?”

“Just for information,” says Jimmy—“but go on wud your story, Mick Gorman, M.P.”

“Well,” says Mick, “I tould King James I’d start for the quay at wance an’ make things right wud my brother Pat. So I put on my hat an’ I left the house. I walked up the quay a bit an’ what did I see but a whole parcel of Orange throopers comin’ through the gates of the bridge. They dhrew themselves up outside the gates, an’ I heard a big man that was at the head of ’em shout out: ‘Now boys, you know King William’s ordhers. Sarch every public-house for the vagabone an’ every ship at the quays.’ My heart went down into my boots at the words, for I knew who the ‘vagabone’ was. The big horse soger then shouts out again: ‘Now there are a hundhred of you here. Let fifty of you take the ships an’ fifty more the public-houses, an’ to save time, divide yourselves wance more into fives, for that’ll hasten matthers a dale. An’ to the fifty of ye that’s goin’ to sarch the ships, this is my ordhers: If ye don’t find him aboord any wan of ’em, line the ditches from top to bottom, an’ see that he doesn’t pass ye laither on!’”

“Line the ditches!” says Jimmy. “What did he mane by that?”

“I suppose he meant to line the quays,” says Mick Gorman; “but being an ignorant man that wasn’t brought up in a sayfarin’ place he thought a quay was a ditch.”

“Like enough,” says Jimmy. “What did you do then?”

“Begor,” says Mick, “I was nonplushed for a short spell, but I thought I’d best go aboord my brother’s lugger an’ arrange matthers there in case we could hit on a plan for smugglin’ King James aboord. So I walks aboord by the plank to my brother’s ship and roused him out of his bunk, and settled it all wud him about Misther Stuart in case we could pilot the cargo in safety through the town, an’ then I wint back to the ‘Royal Oak’ and towld everything to his Majesty.”

“Poor man, he was mighty sorrowful to hear the news I had for him about the Orangemen. ‘What’ll I do at all at all?’ he axes me. ‘I thought I could depind my life on Jimmy Murphy.’ ‘Jimmy Murphy!’ says I—a dacenter man never broke bread.” ‘So I thought meself,’ says King James, an’ with that he towld me all about you, an’ of coorse I blew a horn for you. ‘Poor Jimmy,’ says I, ‘never went back of his word, I’ll go bail; an’ ’tis the clever little man he is too.’ ‘What’ll we do at all at all?’ says King James, wringin’ his hands. ‘Can’t you think of any plan to get me safe aboord your brother’s boat?’ ‘Worse luck,’ says I, ‘’tis a poor hand I am on an emergency like this. I’m fairly bet.’ ‘How long do you think ’twill be,’ says King James, ‘before the sogers will make their way here?’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘there are at laiste thirty public-houses between this an’ the bridge, an’ ’tis like enough they’ll have a dhrop in aich house. It’s now about half-past four,’ says I. ‘I think we might safely calculate on them not gettin’ this far until about half-past six.’ ‘That’ll be just on the high wather,’ says King James. ‘I think the tide’ll run till seven,’ says I, ‘for my brother promised he wouldn’t take the stage off until the town clock sthruck seven.’ ‘I’ll tell you what you’ll do,’ says King James. ‘Run over as quick as you can to the other side of the bridge an’ send Jimmy Murphy here, for I have great confidence in the little man, an’ wud the help of goodness he’ll hit upon some plan to smuggle me through the sogers on the quay.’ ‘You’re right,’ says I to the King. ‘Jimmy is the man.’

“So that’s why you see me here now,” says Mick Gorman, fairly out of breath.

“Faix,” says Jimmy, “you’ve lost a dale of time as it is wud your rigmarole story; but no matther! I have a plan in my head already.”

“What is it?” axes Mick Gorman.

“That’s my business,” says Jimmy. “Now,” says he, “let you take charge of the bridge an’ open the big gate at six o’clock to the minute, an’ I’ll put my best fut forward for the ‘Royal Oak.’ Tell me, Mick,” says he, “does the big whisky puncheon stand in the middle of the shop still?”

“It does,” says Mick Gorman.

“How is it inside?” says Jimmy.

“There’s only about three gallon left in it.”

“_Only_ three gallon!” says Jimmy, smackin’ his lips. “But that’s not I meant at all. I want to know what sort of a thing the inside of this whisky puncheon is.”

“It’s made to howld a hundhred and twenty gallon inside, of coorse,” says Mick Gorman.

“A hundhred and twenty gallon of whisky!” says Jimmy, liftin’ his hands an’ lookin’ spacheless. “Glory be to goodness! Why ’twould keep a man in the horrors for a year at laiste.”

“That depends!” says Mick Gorman, laughin’ hearty. “But between yerself an’ meself, Jimmy,” says he, “’tisn’t all whisky, of coorse, we gives ’em, or ’twould play the mischief wud their livers.”

“I know,” says Jimmy. “Eighty gallon of sperits an’ forty gallon of boilin’ wather an’ sugar-o’-candy makes the best public-house whisky, I’m tould.”

“Begor, wan ’ud think you wor in the public line all your life,” says Mick. “Who towld you we boiled the wather?”

“Sure it’s only naatural you would,” says Jimmy, “in ordher to melt the sugar-o’-candy. But you don’t seem to undherstand in the laiste what I mane about the big puncheon of yours. What I want to know is if there are any nails stickin’ out the ribs of it inside?”

“Nails stickin’ out!” says Mick. “’Tis aisy known now you worn’t born in the public business. Do you think ’tis like an empty sugar hogshead it is?”

“I didn’t think anything,” says Jimmy, a thrifle vexed. “I only axed for information.”

“Well,” says Mick Gorman, “the inside of it is as smooth as the barrel of a gun, if that’s what you’re dhrivin’ at.”

“That’ll do,” says Jimmy. “Now,” says he, “where do you keep your tool-chest?”

“You’ll find it undher the counther near the till,” says Mick. “The till is locked, of coorse.”

“I’ll remember that,” says Jimmy; an’ off he starts at a throt for the “Royal Oak,” leavin’ the landlord lookin’ afther him wud his mouth wide open like the slit of a post-office letther-box.

When he arrived at the “Royal Oak” he found King James sittin’ in the back parlour partly disthracted. Every noise the poor man heard he thought ’twas the Orangemen; but when his eyes fell on Jimmy Murphy he seemed greatly relieved in his mind.

“How was it at all, Jimmy,” says he, “that you let the vagabones through the gate?”

“There’s no use frettin’ over spilt milk,” says Jimmy. “The sogers are in the city, an’ the thing is to get you out of their grip, an’ not to be axin why I let ’em pass, isn’t it? Do you think I’m a match single-handed for a whole pack of dhragoons in full cry?”

“Of coorse not,” says King James. “Don’t heed my temper, Jimmy; for it’s in a bad state of mind altogether I am. Only save my life whatever you do, an’ I’ll not forget you when I come into my rights wance more.”

“I’ll do my best for you,” says Jimmy; “for I passed my word to you this mornin’—”

“An’ you wor never known to go back of your promise,” says King James, takin’ the words out of little Jimmy’s mouth.

“Never!” says Jimmy; “but there’s no time to be lost, blowin’ our own thrumpets.”

“I know that,” says King James; “an’ I’ll do anything you ordher me, Misther Murphy.”

“Very well,” says Jimmy. “Is there any wan up in the house yet?”

“Divil a wan,” says King James. “At laiste I didn’t hear a stir inside the house since Misther Gorman went out last.”

“’Tis the mischief to rouse servants in the mornin’,” says Jimmy; “but that’s all in our favour now. Come into the shop wud me an’ I’ll thry an’ thransmogrify you.”

“You won’t hurt me, I hope?” says King James, “for I was tendherly reared.”

“Naither hurt nor harm will come to you at my hands,” says Jimmy; “so thry and look a bit cheerful. Begor, ’twould frighten a horse from his oats if he saw what a long face you’re pullin’. Have heart, man! Have heart!”

“I will, Jimmy, I will,” says the King.

The pair of ’em then crossed the hall an’ went into the shop. There wor square holes cut in the top of aich shutther so there was a fair share of light in the shop.

“What’s that mystayrious bundle you have in your hands?” says King James to Jimmy, as they passed through the flap of the counther.

“A pair of pillows,” says Jimmy. “Haven’t you the sighth of your eyes?”

“Maybe ’tis goin’ to smother me you are,” says King James.

“Look here,” says Jimmy, “if you give me any annoyance wud foolish remarks like that I’ll throw up the job altogether. Do what I tell you and keep your tongue in your cheek, for time and tide waits for no man.”

“It’ll be high wather at seven,” says King James.

“Ay,” says Jimmy; “an’ for all the Kings in Europe it wouldn’t run a minute laither. Doesn’t that make you feel very small in yourself?”

“It does,” says King James.

“Well, sing small now an’ fetch me out a big tool-chest you’ll find undher the counther near the till,” says Jimmy. “I’m not puttin’ temptation in your road, for the till is double-locked.”

So the King did as he was towld, an’ Jimmy picked out a saw wud a taperin’ point, an’ mountin’ a high stool that stood alongside the big whisky puncheon he set to work. Bein’ a handy man it wasn’t long until he had sawn the lid off the puncheon. Then he threw the lid on the ground an’ jumped down afther it, King James gazin’ at him all the time as if he was in a dhrame.

“Hand me over that big copper measure there,” says he to King James, pointin’ to a three-gallon measure standin’ on the counther.

Of coorse the King did as he was towld, but he looked mighty onaisey, an’ says he, “What is it you’re up to at all, Misther Murphy?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done,” says Jimmy; “but I can’t spake when I’m busy, so howld your whisht, if you plaize, James,” says he.

It tuk nearly ten minutes to dhraw off the whisky from the puncheon, an’ when the measure was full Jimmy turned to the King,—

“Now get up on the stool there and jump into the puncheon,” says he.

“Man alive!” says King James, “sure the fumes of it would knock me off my head complately.”

“Betther be knocked off your head than have your head knocked off,” says Jimmy. “Do what I tell you at wance if you have sense. Come look alive, James the Second,” says he, “or I won’t be answerable for the consequences.”

So the King never said a word, but mounted the stool and scrambled into the puncheon.

“It’s just about your height, isn’t it?” says Jimmy, workin’ away wud an auger on the lid of the puncheon.

“’Tis,” says King James, standin’ on his tip toes an’ lookin’ over the top the same as a cow peepin’ over a fence.

“Now,” says Jimmy, “make yourself comfortable about the head with these pillows, an’ you’ll be aboord ship in due time. I’m afther borin’ a lot of air-holes in the head of the puncheon so that you’ll be able to have plenty fresh air on the journey.”

An’ sayin’ the words Jimmy got up on the stool an’ dhragged the lid of the puncheon up wud him. He was a sthrong little man for his build, but it tuke a few heavy sighs out of him before he could fix the lid in its place.