Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/444

 . 12, 1861.] ‘What that saintly man says is the truth,’ observed Aileen. ‘My old, vicious grandmother is, I am sure, plotting to do you or me, and perhaps both, a new mischief. You have not a minute to spare to get out of the country. Run, my darling, now, as if there was a process-server at your heels; and never cry “Stop,” until you are on board the Granvaile. Hurry, hurry from my sight. If I had to wait twenty long years for you, you will find me as true as steel to my first and only love. One kiss more, and be off with yourself.’

“Again she kissed the goat; it kicked up its hind heels with delight, and ran as fast as if it was at a fox-chace along this road, and when it was hurrying by the spot at which we are now sitting, it was observed by Moyra Olliffe, who was looking out of her bed-room window at Rahar up there, whilst she was putting a plaister on her nose, where one of her own pigs had bitten her when she was struggling in the trough.

‘That is Phelim O’Neal O’Donnell running away to get on board the ship in Waterford!’ said she to herself. ‘Oh! by the invincible hammer of the immortal Thor, he shall not get out of my clutches so easy as he thinks. I will be hot foot after him, as fast as a broomstick can fly with me, so soon as I have rubbed in a few ointments and changed my face and figure into the likeness of a Mother-Abbess.’

“Poor Phelim O’Neal O’Donnell ran so hard that he was hardly able to draw a breath as he crossed the plank that led from the Quay at Waterford on board the Granvaile. As he stepped on deck he heard the heavy tramp of the witch’s foot at the other end of the plank, following him. He instantly ran and hid behind the captain, who was astonished to see a strange goat making so free with him.

‘That yellow goat is mine, and I call upon you, Captain Joseph O’Leary, to deliver him up to me,’ said Moyra Olliffe.

‘And who may you be yourself, that knows my name so well?’ asked the captain.

‘You see what I am—by the way I am clothed,’ answered Moyra.

‘I see that you appear to be a Mother-Abbess, but few in this world are as good as they appear to be,’ observed the captain, who was a very wise and devout old man. ‘I asked you before, what is your name, and you never answered me. I now ask you the same question a second time. What is your name? What Order do you belong to? And where are you established in community?’

‘My name,’ replied Moyra, ‘is Mother Olivia, my Order is that of the Fly-by-nights, and my community is established at the White House of Rahar, in the county of Kilkenny.’

‘I have never heard of you nor your Order before,’ answered the captain.

‘That is no reason why you should refuse to restore to me my property,’ replied Moyra.

‘That’s the truth, sure enough,’ remarked the captain. ‘If the goat is your property, you ought to have it. But how am I to know it is yours. Tell us every particular about it.’

‘To be sure I can,’ replied Moyra, quite confidently, and certain now she was on the point of succeeding. ‘It is a yellow goat—as yellow as flax, and it has a red beard.’

‘Everyone can see that as well as yourself,’ said the captain, looking down at the goat, and observing what was on his neck. ‘Is there nothing else strange and outlandish about it, such as is never seen with a common goat?’

‘Yes—there is,’ replied Moyra, ‘it is a very sensible goat—it knows every word you say to it—and if I was not on the watch with a long knife, it would puck the life out of me.’

‘Oh! ho!’ said the captain, ‘a very sensible goat that would puck the life out of you. By Dad! Mother Olivia, there is some mystery here I cannot as yet understand. I now ask you again if there is not something particular about your goat, which ought to distinguish it from every other? Think twice before you answer me.’

‘No,’ answered Moyra, ‘there is nothing else that I know of.’

‘Well then the goat cannot be yours, or you would know there are holy beads tied about its neck,’ answered the captain.

‘And who put such horrid things about my goat’s neck?’ asked Moyra, trembling with rage and fear when she heard the name of ‘the beads’ mentioned.

‘And so, you shocking, inhuman old woman, you come on board my ship, dressed up as a Mother-Abbess, and yet in the hearing of all my Christian crew you have the audacity to call the blessed beads “horrid things.” Seize her, boys, tie her two hands and legs together, until my mate, Peter Devine, examines her in her theology. If she cannot answer the few learned questions he will put to her, she must have sold herself to the devil, and as sure as my name is Joseph O’Leary, over she goes, into the river Suir, to sink as a Mother-Abbess, or to swim as a witch. Come here, Peter Devine, this minute, and examine this old dame who says she is a Mother-Abbess.’

‘I will be with you the moment I have mixed my third tumbler of punch,’ answered Peter Devine, from the cabin below.

“The orders of the captain were obeyed. The witch’s hands and legs were tied together, and she was placed at the ship’s side in such a position that she might, by a single push, be dashed into the river below, in case she failed in her examination by the mate, Peter Devine.

“Whilst the crew were arranging Moyra Olliffe, the yellow goat was seen skipping around the deck on its hind legs, and every time it came in front of the captain, bowing down its head before him. It was engaged in these antics when Peter Devine, a man with a face as red as scarlet, and who seemed to be heated with punch-drinking, ascended upon deck, carrying a fowling piece in his hand. He watched the goat for a few minutes, and then said:

‘That is no goat, but a Christian gentleman, and as such he has been recognised before now by some clergyman, who has put his beads round its neck. Is it not the truth I am telling?’ said Peter Devine, directly addressing himself to the goat.

“The goat nodded its head.

‘And yet that old woman, who says she is a