Part 2

It’s an ould sayin’ that there’s no tyin’ up the tongue of Fame, an’ it’s also a true one. The account of the siege had gone far an’ near in the counthry, an’ none of the Irish, no matter what they were who ever heard it, but wor sorry. Sandy Saveall was now the devil an’ all. As there was no more in the castle to shoot, he should find something to regenerate his hand upon: for instance, he practised upon three or four of Graham’s friends, who undher one pretence or other were seen skulkin’ about the castle, an’ none of their relations durst come to take away their bodies in ordher to bury them. At length things came to that pass, that poor Miss Graham was at the last gasp for something to drink; she had ferreted out as well as she could a drop of moisture here an’ there in the damp corners of the castle, but now all that was gone; the fat cook had sucked himself to death, and the little orphan boy died calmly away a few hours afther him, lavin’ the helpless lady with a tongue swelled an’ furred, and a mouth parched and burned, for want of drink. Still the blood of the Grahams was in her, and yield she would not to the villain that left her as she was. Sich then was the transparency of her situation, when happening to be on the battlements to catch, if possible, a little of the dew of heaven, she was surprised to see something flung up, which rolled down towards her feet; she lifted it, an’ on examinin’ the contents, found it to be a stone covered with a piece of brown paper, inside which was a slip of white, containing the words, ‘Endure--relief is near you!’ But, poor young lady, of what retrospection could these tidings be to one in her situation?--she could scarcely see to read them; her brain was dizzy, her mouth like a cindher, her tongue swelled an’ black, an’ her breath felt as hot as a furnace. She could barely breathe, an’ was in the very act of lyin’ down undher the triumphant air of heaven to die, when she heard the shrill voice of a young kid in the castle yard, and immediently remembered that a brown goat which her lover, a gentleman named Simpson, had, when it was a kid, made her a present of, remained in the castle about the stable during the whole siege. She instantly made her way slowly down stairs, got a bowl, and havin’ milked the goat, she took a little of the milk, which I need not asseverate at once relieved her. By this means she recovered, an’ findin’ no further anticipation from druth, she resolved like a hairo to keep the Crumwellians out, an’ to wait till either God or man might lend her a helpin’ hand.

Now, you must know that the miller’s purty daughter had also a sweetheart called _Suil Gair_ Maguire, or sharp-eye’d Maguire, an humble branch of the great Maguires of Enniskillen; an’ this same Suil Gair was servant an’ foster-brother to Simpson, who was the intended husband of Miss Graham. Simpson, who lived some miles off, on hearin’ the condition of the castle, gathered together all the royalists far an’ near; an’ as Crummle was honestly hated by both Romans an’ Prodestans, faith, you see, Maguire himself promised to send a few of his followers to the rescue. In the mean time, Suil Gair dressed himself up like a fool or idiot, an’ undher the protection of the miller’s daughter, who blarnied Saveall in great style, was allowed to wandher about an’ joke wid the sogers; but especially he took a fancy to Sandy, and challenged him to put one stone out of five in one of the port-holes of the castle, at a match of finger-stone. Sandy, who was nearly as famous at that as the musket, was rather relaxed when he saw that Suil Gair could at least put in every second stone, an’ that he himself could hardly put one in out of twenty. Well, at all events it was durin’ their sport that fool Paddy, as they called him, contrived to fling the scrap of writin’ I spoke of across the battlements at all chances; for when he undhertook to go to the castle, he gave up his life as lost; but he didn’t care about that, set in case he was able to save either his foster-brother or Miss Graham. But this is not at all indispensable, for it is well known that many a foster-brother sacrificed his life the same way, and in cases of great danger, when the real brother would beg to decline the compliment.

Things were now in a very connubial state entirely. Balgruntie heard that relief was comin’ to the castle, an’ what to do he did not know; there was little time to be lost, however, an’ something must be done. He praiched flowery discourses twice a-day from the mill-hopper, an’ sang psalms for grace to be directed in his righteous intentions; but as yet he derived no particular predilection from either. Sandy appeared to have got a more bountiful modelum of grace than his captain, for he succeeded at last in bringin’ the miller’s daughter to sit undher the word at her father’s hopper. Fool Paddy, as they called Maguire, had now become a great favourite wid the sogers, an’ as he proved to be quite harmless and inoffensive, they let him run about the place widout opposition. The castle, to be sure, was still guarded, but Miss Graham kept her heart up in consequence of the note, for she hoped every day to get relief from her friends. Balgruntie, now seein’ that the miller’s daughter was becomin’ more serious undher the taichin’ of Saveall, formed a plan that he thought might enable him to penethrate the castle, an’ bear off the lady an’ the money. This was to strive wid very delicate meditation to prevail on the miller’s daughter, through the renown that he thought Sandy had over her, to open a correspondency wid Miss Graham; for he knew that if one of the gates was unlocked, and the unsuspectin’ girl let in, the whole squadron would soon be in afther her. Now, this plan was the more dangerous to Miss Graham, because the miller’s daughter had intended to bring about the very same denouncement for a different purpose. Between her friend an’ her enemies it was clear the poor lady had little chance; an’ it was Balgruntie’s intention, the moment he had sequestrated her and the money, to make his escape, an’ lave the castle to whosomever might choose to take it. Things, however, were ordhered to take a different bereavement: the Hog of Cupar was to be trapped in the hydrostatics of his own hypocrisy, an’ Saveall to be overmatched in his own premises. Well, the plot was mentioned to Sandy, who was promised a good sketch of the prog; an’ as it was jist the very thing he dreamt about night an’ day, he snapped at it as a hungry dog would at a sheep’s trotter. That night the miller’s daughter--whose name I may as well say was Nannie Duffy, the purtiest girl an’ the sweetest singer that ever was in the counthry--was to go to the castle an’ tell Miss Graham that the sogers wor all gone, Crummle killed, an’ his whole army massacrayed to atoms. This was a different plan from poor Nannie’s, who now saw clearly what they were at. But never heed a woman for bein’ witty when hard pushed.

‘I don’t like to do it,’ said she, ‘for it looks like thrachery, espishilly as my father has left the neighbourhood, and I don’t know where he is gone to; an’ you know thrachery’s ondacent in either man or woman. Still, Sandy, it goes hard for me to refuse one that I--I----well, I wish I knew where my father is--I would like to know what he’d think of it.’

‘Hut,’ said Sandy, ‘where’s the use of such scruples in a good cause?--when we get the money, we’ll fly. It is principally for the sake of waining you an’ her from the darkness of idolatry that we do it. Indeed, my conscience would not rest well if I let a soul an’ body like yours remain a prey to Sathan, my darlin’.’

‘Well,’ said she, ‘doesn’t the captain exhort this evenin’?’

‘He does, my beloved, an’ with a blessin’ will expound a few verses from the Song of Solomon.’

‘It’s betther then,’ said she, ‘to sit under the word, an’ perhaps some light may be given to us.’

This delighted Saveall’s heart, who now looked upon pretty Nannie as his own; indeed, he was obliged to go gradually and cautiously to work, for cruel though Nolly Rednose was, Sandy knew that if any violent act of that kind should raich him, the guilty party would sup sorrow. Well, accordin’ to this pious arrangement, Balgruntie assembled all his men who were not on duty about the hopper, in which he stood as usual, an’ had commenced a powerful exhortation, the substratum of which was devoted to Nannie; he dwelt upon the happiness of religious love; said that scruples were often suggested by Satan, an’ that a heavenly duty was but terrestrial when put in comparishment wid an earthly one. He also made collusion to the old Squire that was popped by Sandy; said it was often a judgment for the wicked man to die in his sins; an’ was gettin’ on wid great eloquence an’ emulation, when a low rumblin’ noise was heard, an’ Balgruntie, throwin’ up his clenched hands an’ grindin’ his teeth, shouted out, ‘Hell and d----n, I’ll be ground to death! The mill’s goin’ on! Murdher! murdher! I’m gone!’ Faith, it was true enough--she had been wickedly set a-goin’ by some one; an’ before they had time to stop her, the Hog of Cupar had the feet and legs twisted off him before their eyes--a fair illustration of his own doctrine, that it is often a judgment for the wicked man to die in his sins. When the mill was stopped, he was pulled out, but didn’t live twenty minutes, in consequence of the loss of blood. Time was pressin’, so they ran up a shell of a coffin, and tumbled it into a pit that was hastily dug for it on the mill-common.

This, however, by no manner of manes relieved poor Nannie from her difficulty, for Saveall, finding himself now first in command, determined not to lose a moment in tolerating his plan upon the castle.

‘You see,’ said he, ‘that a way is opened for us that we didn’t expect; an’ let us not close our eyes to the light that has been given, lest it might be suddenly taken from us again. In this instance I suspect that fool Paddy has been made the chosen instrument; for it appears upon inquiry that he too has disappeared. However, heaven’s will be done! we will have the more to ourselves, my beloved--ehem! It is now dark,’ he proceeded, ‘so I shall go an’ take my usual smoke at the mill window, an’ in about a quarther of an hour I’ll be ready.’

‘But I’m all in a tremor after sich a frightful accident,’ replied Nannie: ‘an’ I want to get a few minutes’ quiet before we engage upon our undhertakin.’

This was very natural, and Saveall accordingly took his usual seat at a little windy in the gable of the mill, that faced the miller’s house; an’ from the way the bench was fixed, he was obliged to sit with his face exactly towards the same direction. There we leave him meditatin’ upon his own righteous approximations, till we folly _Suil Gair_ Maguire, or fool Paddy, as they called him, who practicated all that was done.

Maguire and Nannie, findin’ that no time was to be lost, gave all over as ruined, unless somethin’ could be acted on quickly. Suil Gair at once thought of settin’ the mill a-goin’, but kept the plan to himself, any further than tellin’ her not to be surprised at any thing she might see. He then told her to steal him a gun, but if possible to let it be Saveall’s, as he knew it could be depended on. ‘But I hope you won’t shed any blood if you can avoid it,’ said she; ‘_that_ I don’t like.’ ‘Tut,’ replied Suil Gair, makin’ evasion to the question, ‘it’s good to have it about me for my own defence.’

He could often have shot either Balgruntie or Saveall in daylight, but not without certain death to himself, as he knew that escape was impossible. Besides, time was not before so pressin’ upon them, an’ every day relief was expected. Now, however, that relief was so near--for Simpson with a party of royalists an’ Maguire’s men must be within a couple of hours’ journey--it would be too intrinsic entirely to see the castle plundhered, and the lady carried off by such a long-legged skyhill as Saveall. Nannie consequentially, at great risk, took an opportunity of slipping his gun to Suil Gair, who was the best shot of the day in that or any other part of the country; and it was in consequence of this that he was called Suil Gair, or Sharp Eye. But, indeed, all the Maguires were famous shots; an’ I’m tould there’s one of them now in Dublin that could hit a pigeon’s egg or a silver sixpence at the distance of a hundred yards.[1] Suil Gair did not merely raise the sluice when he set the mill a-goin’, but he whipped it out altogether an’ threw it into the dam, so that the possibility of saving the Hog of Cupar was irretrievable. He made off, however, an’ threw himself among the tall ragweeds that grew upon the common, till it got dark, when Saveall, as was his custom, should take his evenin’ smoke at the windy. Here he sat for some period, thinkin’ over many ruminations, before he lit his cutty pipe, as he called it.

‘Now,’ said he to himself, ‘what is there to hindher me from takin’ away, or rather from makin’ sure of the grand lassie, instead of the miller’s daughter? If I get intil the castle, it can be soon effected; for if she has any regard for her reputation, she will be quiet. I’m a braw handsome lad enough, a wee thought high in the cheek bones, scaly in the skin, an’ knock-knee’d a trifle, but stout an’ lathy, an’ tough as a withy. But, again, what is to be done wi Nannie? Hut, she’s but a miller’s daughter, an’ may be disposed of if she gets troublesome. I know she’s fond of me, but I dinna blame her for that. However, it wadna become me now to entertain scruples, seein’ that the way is made so plain for me. But, save us! eh, sirs, that was an awful death, an’ very like a judgment on the Hog of Cupar! It is often a judgment for the wicked to die in their sins! Balgruntie wasna that’---- Whatever he intended to say further, cannot be analogized by man, for, just as he had uttered the last word, which he did while holding the candle to his pipe, the bullet of his own gun entered between his eyes, and the next moment he was a corpse.

Suil Gair desarved the name he got, for truer did never bullet go to the mark from Saveall’s own aim than it did from his. There is now little more to be superadded to my story. Before daybreak the next mornin’, Simpson came to the relief of his intended wife; Crummle’s party war surprised, taken, an’ cut to pieces; an’ it so happened that from that day to this the face of a soger belongin’ to him was never seen near the mill or castle of Aughentain, with one exception only, and that was this:--You all know that the mill is often heard to go at night when nobody sets her a-goin’, an’ that the most sevendable scrames of torture come out of the hopper, an’ that when any one has the courage to look in, they’re sure to see a man dressed like a soger, with a white mealy face, in the act, so to say, of havin’ his legs ground off him. Many a guess was made about who the spirit could be, but all to no purpose. There, however, is the truth for yez; the spirit that shrieks in the hopper is Balgruntie’s ghost, an’ he’s to be ground that way till the day of judgment.

Be coorse, Simpson and Miss Graham were married, as war Nannie Duffy an’ Suil Gair; an’ if they all lived long an’ happy, I wish we may all live ten times longer an’ happier; an’ so we will, but in a betther world than this, plaise God.”

“Well, but, Tom,” said Gordon, “how does that account for my name, which you said you’d tell me?”

“Right,” said Tom; “begad I was near forgettin’ it. Why, you see, sich was their veneration for the goat that was the manes, undher God, of savin’ Miss Graham’s life, that they changed the name of Simpson to Gordon, which signifies in Irish _gor dhun_, or a brown goat, that all their posterity might know the great obligations they lay undher to that reverend animal.”

“An’ do you mane to tell me,” said Gordon, “that my name was never heard of until Oliver Crummle’s time?”

“I do. Never in the wide an’ subterraneous earth was sich a name known till afther the prognostication I tould you; an’ it never would either, only for the goat, sure. I can prove it by the pathepathetics. Denny Mullin, will you give us another draw o’ the pipe?”

Tom’s authority in these matters was unquestionable, and, besides, there was no one present learned enough to contradict him, with any chance of success, before such an audience. The argument was consequently, without further discussion, decided in his favour, and Gordon was silenced touching the origin and etymology of his own name.

This legend we have related as nearly as we can remember in Tom’s words. We may as well, however, state at once that many of his legends were wofully deficient in authenticity, as indeed those of most countries are. Nearly half the Irish legends are _ex post facto_ or _postliminious_. There is no record, for instance, that Oliver Cromwell ever saw the castle of Aughentain, or that any such event as that narrated by Tom ever happened in or about it. It is much more likely that the story, if ever there was any truth in it, is of Scotch origin, as indeed the names would seem to import. There is no doubt, however, that the castle of Aughentain, which is now in the possession of a gentleman named Browne we think, was once the property of a family called Graham. In our boyhood there was a respectable family of that name living in its immediate vicinity, but we know not whether they are the descendants of those who owned the castle or not.

[1] The celebrated Brian Maguire, the first shot of his day, was at this time living in Dublin.

THE HERRING.--SECOND ARTICLE.

THE FISHERY.

Having given in a former number some account of the natural history of this valuable little creature, we now proceed, in accordance with our promise, to give a description of the various modes of taking and curing it; and as the Dutch were the first to see the importance, and devote themselves to the improvement, of the herring fishery, we shall commence with them.

So early as the year 1307, the Dutch had turned their attention to this subject; and lest any of our more thoughtless or less informed readers should deem the matter one of secondary consideration, or probably of even less, we shall lay before them some statistical accounts of the Dutch fisheries, extracted from returns of the census of the States-General, taken in the year 1669. In that year the total amount of population was 2,400,000.

Of whom were employed as fishermen, and in equipping fishermen with their boats, tackle, conveying of salt, &c. 450,000 Employed in the navigation of ships in foreign trade, 250,000 Shipwrights, handicraftsmen, and manufacturers, 650,000 Inland fishermen, agriculturists, and labourers, 200,000 Gentry, statesmen, soldiers, and inhabitants in general, 850,000 ---------- Total, 2,400,000

Thus nearly a fifth of the population of Holland was entirely engaged in and supported by the herring and deep-sea fishery, and thus arose the saying that “the foundations of Amsterdam were laid on herring bones;” and hence did De Witt assert that “Holland derived her main support from the herring fishery, and that it ought to be considered as the right arm of the republic.”

Before Holland was humbled upon the seas, and whilst she was at the pinnacle of her prosperity, she had ten thousand sail of shipping, with 168,000 mariners, afloat. Of these no less than 6400 vessels, with 112,000 mariners, were employed in and connected with the herring fishery alone, “although the country itself affords them neither materials, nor victual, nor merchandise, to be accounted of, towards their setting forth.” When we come to the subject of curing, we shall take occasion to point out the modes by which the Dutch attained their excellence, and established this surprising trade; but at present we have but to describe their manner of fishing.

The GREAT FISHERY commences on the 24th of June, and terminates on the 31st of December, and is carried on in the latitudes of Shetland and Edinburgh, and on the coast of Great Britain, with strong-decked vessels called busses, manned by fourteen or fifteen men, and well supplied with casks, salt, nets, and every material requisite for catching and curing at sea. Each buss has generally fifty, and must not have less than forty nets of 32 fathoms in length each, 8 fathoms in depth, and a buoy-rope of 8 fathoms; an empty barrel less than a herring barrel is attached to each buoy-rope. This fleet of nets, as it is called, is divided by buoys into four parts, by which their position is marked and their taking in facilitated; the buoys at the extreme ends are painted white, with the owners’ and vessels’ names upon them. By the Dutch fishery laws it is provided that the yarn of the nets must be of good unmixed Dutch or Baltic hemp, which must be inspected before use by sworn surveyors; the yarn must be well spun; and each full net, or fourth part of a fleet, must be 740 meshes in length and 68 in depth, and the nets must be inspected and marked before they can be used.

The Dutch always shoot their nets, that is, cast them into the sea, at sunset, and take them in before sunrise. In shooting them they cast them to windward, so that the wind may prevent the vessel from coming upon them. The whole of the nets are attached to four strong ropes joined to each other, and are taken in by means of the capstan, to which four or five men attend, whilst four more shake out the fish.

The SMALL FISHERY, or fresh-herring fishery, is carried on to the east of Yarmouth in deep water, with flat-bottomed vessels without keels, so formed for the purpose of being run ashore in any convenient place.

It is forbidden by the 15th and 16th articles of the Dutch fishery laws to gut the herrings taken by the small fishery either at sea or ashore, under pain of one month’s imprisonment, and a fine of five guilders for every hundred herrings, as well as the confiscation of the herrings, unless special permission has been obtained from the king, at the request of the States.

The PAN FISHERY is carried on in the rivers, inland seas, and on the coast of Holland, within three miles of the shore.

The same prohibition, under similar penalties, that exists against curing fish taken in the small fishery, extends to this.

We have given the first place to the Dutch in this account, in consequence of their having been the first to see the importance of the fishery, but they take the lead no longer; the English and Scotch have successfully rivalled them in curing, and for the quantity taken during the season the Norwegians surpass all others. The Norwegian is a wholesale fishery, every description of ship and boat being in demand. They have curing stations on shore, to which the boats bring the fish as fast as they are caught; and there are large vessels with barrels and salt lying out amongst the fishers, buying from those who do not wish to lose time by going ashore. Every description of net, as well as every sort of vessel, is in requisition; some fishing at anchor, some sailing, and others hauling their seines on shore, but the grand method is as follows:--

An immense range of nets with very small meshes so small as to prevent the herrings from fastening in them, is extended round a shoal of fish, and gradually moved towards some creek or narrow inlet of the sea. The nets are drawn close and made fast across the entrance, and the enormous body of herrings thus crowded up into a narrow space is taken out and cured at leisure. This mode of fishing is called a “lock.”