o
make a priest's palaver-box of the Saucy Sally, and sulkily retired,
rolling his quid with indefatigable energy, and squirting jets of
spittle half-mast high.

O'More almost pushed the reluctant Madeline into the cabin, closed the
door, and addressed me.--"To what motive am I to attribute your
presence here, Mr Macdonnell?"

"To one which I am proud to avow, the desire of being near the object
of my sole affections--your lovely daughter; as well, sir, as from a
hope that I may still be able to overcome those objections which you
once expressed."

He pointed over the boat's side to the black piled precipices of
the shore, as they stood like an iron wall looming along the
weather-beam.--"Look there, sir; look at the Bloody Gobbins, and hear
me--When a setting moon shall cease to fling the mourning of their
shadows over the graves of _my_ butchered ancestors, and when a
rising sun shall cease to bare before abhorring Christendom"----

"Luff, sir, luff," cried Ingram, from the forecastle.

"Come aft yourself, Paul," I replied in despair and disgust.

O'More retired to the cabin bulkhead, and leaned against the door,
without completing his broken vow. Ingram took the helm, and I sat
down in silence. Paul saw our unpleasant situation, and ceasing to
remember his own cause for ill-humour, strove to make us forget ours.
He talked with a good deal of tact, but with little success, for the
next half hour. O'More remained stern and black as the Gobbins
themselves, now rapidly sinking astern, while the coast of Island
Magee receded into the broad Lough of Belfast upon our quarter. The
moon was still shining with unabated lustre, and we could plainly
discern the bold outline of the hills beyond; while the coast of Down
and the two Copelands lay glistening in grey obscure over our
starboard bow. No sail was within sight; we had a stiff breeze with a
swinging swell from the open bay; and as the cutter lay down and
showed the glimmer of the water's edge above her gunnel, the glee of
the glorying sailor burst out in song:--

Haul away, haul away, down helm, I say;
Slacken sheets, let the good boat go.--
Give her room, give her room for a spanking boom;
For the wind comes on to blow--
(Haul away!)
For the wind comes on to blow,
And the weather-beam is gathering gloom,
And the scud flies high and low.

Lay her out, lay her out, till her timbers stout,
Like