A Collection of Ocean Waifs.
Nora Daly’s Christmas Gift:
Tale of the South of Ireland.
By Laoi.
Chapter 1.
One fine afternoon about the middle of October in the year 1859, a hooker was weaving around Roche’s Point towards the small fishing village of Guileen, situated on a cliff of about thirty feet high between the Point and the bold promontory of Power Head. The little beach at the foot of the cliff presented a lively scene. Men were busily engaged in unlading boats of newly caught fish, whilst women assisted in preparing them to be salted, selecting a few for home use. On the top of the cliff, a row of houses faced the sea, forming one of the two streets of the village; the other, with a row on either side, running at right angles to it towards the country. Women were busy making nets, washing, and knitting in front of their doors; an exasperated mother occasionally diversifying her occupation by administering a gratuitous cuff to some too demonstrative child, who, perchance, was clung to the hair of one of its fellows, or lay sprawling in the mud, screaming with all the power of its lungs. Just on the edge of the height, in front of one of the houses, a young, fair-haired girl, in a blue merino dress, stood waving handkerchief towards an incoming vessel. Her light blue eyes sparkled joyously, and her full fair features glowed with the warm tint of pleasure. As she stood there, with her unconfined tresses of gold, through which the amorous zephyrs wantonly frolicked, and unconscious of the etiquette the required her delicately moulded feet to be encased from the vulgar view, she appeared like the realization of a poet’s dream, or beauty personified. Certain as it is, that, for miles around,—though many fair flowers bloom in that region,—none could equal Nora Daly in elegance of person, or—what is better still—in vivacity or amiableness of disposition. To her signal of welcome, a form, standing on the gunwale of the hooker, and holding onto a stay by one hand, wave a hat with the other in response. Soon, to the maiden’s evident satisfaction, the sails of the hooker were taken in, and her anchor dropped in the little bay. A boat was then lowered, and put off from her side, containing a man and a boy. The young girl was about to descend the narrow path that wound down to the beach to welcome the newcomers, when her attention was diverted by the appearance of the lithe and graceful figure of a young gentleman, fashionably attired, and sporting a hot-house rose in his button-hole. His handsome countenance was lighted up with a smile, and, raising his hat, he saluted Nora with polished courtesy: "Good morrow, Nora, I am extremely delighted to meet you this afternoon."
"Thank you kindly, Master James," replied the fair girl, "an’ I hope you are well."
"And if I were not," he returned, "the sight of your lovely face, my dear Nora, would restore me to full health. I do not know another the whole country round it would give me such pleasure to meet. Your presence acts upon me as the genial rays of the sun upon the flower which has been drooping and pining away in the unfriendly shade."
"It’s makin’ game of me you are, I can see plain enough, Master James."
"Now, by this sweet little hand I"—But the hand that he caught within his own was quickly snatched away.
"No, no, Master James," said the little fairy, shaking her head, it may all do very well for fine ladies; but a simple country girl like myself can’t understand these fine speeches."
"Nora," he said, vexed rather at her manner than her words, "you are unkind. There are very few fine ladies I know that merit half the devotion I feel for you, and there is certainly not one that could share it with you."
The blushing girl saw, with no little anxiety, a young sailor coming quickly towards them, from the path path that led towards the beach. he was a fair-haired, ruddy-featured youth of about eighteen years of age, strong and active in appearance. In all the exuberance of adolescence, he, unheeding the presence of another, caught the not unwilling girl in his arms; but the bashful maiden successfully evaded the kiss he attempted to bestow on her rosy cheek. "Ah, John, asthore!" she said, as she released herself from his embrace, "welcome back! it seems as if you niver would come home."
"Well, in truth, though we weren’t any longer than usual, I thought it an age myself. ’Tis a fine day, Mr. Cotter," he said, condescendingly turning towards the young gentleman. "And ’tis a great pity that the gintlemen of the country don’t take as much intherest in stopin’ at home, as you do in this miserable hole of a village."
The other, with a haughty stare, said coldly, "Ah, John O’Regan! I hope you disposed of your cargo to advantage. The girls of Queenstown were loth to part with their handsome sailor boy, I’ll be bound."
