Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. Henty George Alfred
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through that surf, not if all Ireland dipinded on it."
"Where is Walter?"
"Sure and I can't tell ye, yer honour. He was here a few minutes since; but what's come of him is more nor I can tell ye."
"He went off with Larry Doolan," a boy, who was standing next to the fisherman, shouted.
"Then, as sure as fate, they are up to some mischief," Mr. Davenant said. "Walter is bad enough by himself, but with Larry to help him, it would take a regiment to look after them."
"They can't be in much mischief tonight, yer honour," the fisherman said.
"Look, sir, she's coming in fast. She draws a power of water, and she will strike in a minute or two."
"She seems crowded with men. Can nothing be done to help them?" the priest asked.
"Nothing, your reverence. Praying for them is the only thing that can help the poor sowls now."
"You are sure it's not possible to launch a boat, Considine?"
"Look for yourself, yer honour. There's not a boat on the coast that could get through them breakers."
"There she goes."
Even above the noise of the storm, a loud cry was heard, and the crash of breaking timber as, with the shock, the main and mizzen masts, weakened by the loss of the foremast, went over the sides. The next great wave drove the vessel forward two or three fathoms.
"That's her last move," Considine said. "The rocks will be through her bottom, now."
"They are off," a boy shouted, running up.
"Who are off?" Considine asked.
"The young squire and Larry Doolan."
"Off where?" Mr. Davenant exclaimed.
"Off in the curragh, yer honour. Me and Tim Connolly helped them carry it round the Nose, and they launched her there. There they are. Sure you can see them for yourself."
The party rushed out from the shelter, and there, a quarter of a mile along on the right, a small boat was seen, making its way over the waves.
"Be jabers, yer honour, and they have done it," the boatmen said, as Mr. Davenant gave a cry of alarm.
"I didn't think of the curragh, and if I had, she could not have been launched here. Mr. Walter has hit on the only place where there was a chance. Under the shelter of the Nose it might be done, but nowhere else."
The Nose was a formidable reef of rocks, running off from a point and trending to the south. Many a ship had gone ashore on its jagged edge, but, with the wind from the northeast, it formed somewhat of a shelter, and it was under its lee that Walter and Larry had launched the curragh.
The curragh is still found on the Irish coast. It is a boat whose greatest width is at the stern, so much so that it looks like a boat cut in two. The floor is almost flat, and rises so much to the bow that three or four feet are entirely out of water. They are roughly built, and by no means fast, but they are wonderfully good sea boats, for their size, and can live in seas which would swamp a boat of ordinary build.
Walter had, with the assistance of Larry Doolan, built this boat for going out fishing. It was extremely light, being a mere framework covered with tarred canvas. As soon as Walter had reached the village, and found that the fishermen considered that no boat could possibly be put out, he had found and held a consultation with Larry.
"Do you think the curragh could go out, Larry?"
"Not she, yer honour. She would just be broke up like an eggshell with them breakers."
"But she might float, if we got beyond them, Larry."
"She might that," Larry agreed, "seeing how light she is."
"Well, will you go with me, Larry?"
"Sure and I would go anywhere with yer honour, but she could never get out."
"I am thinking, Larry, that if we carry her along beyond the Nose, we might find it calmer there."
"Well, we might," Larry agreed. "At any rate, we can try."
So, calling together two or three other boys, they had lifted the light boat and carried it with its oars along the shore, until they got beyond the Nose; but even here, it was a formidable business to launch her, for, although the rocks broke the full force of the seas, throwing the spray hundreds of feet up in the air, the waves poured through the intervals, and dashed over the lower rocks in such masses that formidable waves rolled in to the shore.
After much consultation, the boys agreed that their best plan was to scramble out on the rocks as far as possible, so as to launch the boat beyond the break of the surf.
It was a hazardous enterprise, and the whole party were, several times, nearly washed into the water as they struggled out. At last, they reached a spot beyond which they could go no farther, as a deep passage was here broken in the rock. But they were now beyond the line of breakers.
After several vain efforts to launch the boat, in each of which she narrowly escaped destruction, they agreed that the only plan was, after a wave passed, to drop her on to a flat rock, which then showed above the water, and to jump into her.
The two boys on shore were to hold the head rope, to prevent her being dashed towards the land by the next wave, while Larry worked with the oars to get her away from the ridge. The moment the wave had passed under them, the head rope was to be thrown off.
This plan was carried out. The two boys had but just time to jump into the boat and get out their oars, when the next wave lifted the boat high on its crest. The lads holding the rope were nearly torn from the rock, but they held on till the strain ceased, then they threw in the rope, and Walter and Larry bent to their oars.
"Row easy, Larry," Walter said, as the next wave passed under them, "and put her head to each wave."
Terrible as was the sea, the curragh floated buoyantly over it, though several times, as she rose to the steep waves, Walter thought that she would be thrown right over. The worst part of their task was over, when they got beyond the end of the Nose, for up to that point they were forced to row across the course of the waves, and continually to turn the boat, to face the great masses of water which ran between the rocks. But once beyond the end of the reef they turned her head north, and rowed straight towards the ship.
"She has struck, Master Walter," Larry said, glancing over his shoulder, "and her masts are gone."
"Lay out, then, Larry, there's no time to lose."
But, in spite of their efforts, the boat moved but slowly through the water, for the wind caught her high bow with such force that, at times, it needed all their strength and skill to keep her head straight. At last they were close to the ship, which already showed signs of breaking up. They ranged up alongside of it.
"Fasten a line to a keg and throw it in," Walter shouted.
In a minute, a keg was thrown overboard with a line attached. As soon as it drifted a little way from the vessel's side, they hauled it into the boat.
"Now, back, Larry; these waves would sink us in a moment, if we turn our stern to them."
The wreck lay within a hundred yards of the shore, and the boat backed until close to the line where the waves toppled over in a torrent of foam.
"Now, Larry, keep her steady. We are as near as we dare go."
Then Walter stood up in the boat, took the keg and a foot or two of line in his hand, and waited till the next wave passed under the boat. He swung the keg round his head, and hurled it towards the shore. Then he dropped into his seat, and gave two or three vigorous strokes, and, when safely beyond the line of breakers, sat quiet and watched the result.
"They have missed it the first time," he said. "Look! They are going to run into the surf for it."
The group on the shore joined hands, and the next time the keg was borne forward, in the tumble of foam, Considine ran forward and seized it. The back rush took him from his feet, but the others held on, and before the next wave came, the line was safely on the beach. A strong cable was soon pulled ashore and firmly