Furling their sales, they took to the oars with a will and pulled
wildly towards the landing-place, where they were pleased to hear
voices in conversation. Just then a long whistle was heard from shore,
and a husky voice half whispered, "Boat ahoy!" "Aye, aye," was the
glad response as the shipwrecked men threw the painter to the owner
of the voice, and taking their arms and instruments, bounded on shore.
Imagine their surprise to find themselves surrounded, their muskets
knocked from their hands, and the latter speedily encircled with a
pair of manacles. The Captain of the Brig tried to remonstrate with
the commander of the party, but a navy revolver was pointed at his
head, and he was forbidden to utter a word. Finding resistance and
remonstrance altogether out of the question, the unfortunate men
marched on silently as directed, mentally endeavoring to explain
this sample of Irish hospitality, and confident that there must be a
mistake somewhere, but of the precise nature of that error they had
not the faintest idea.
Arrived at the gaol, they were severally incarcerated and their
handcuffs taken off. Then, as they signified that they were hungry,
they were liberally supplied with buttermilk and oatmeal porridge,
which many of them thought the best and most sensible part of the
whole proceeding.
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