Charles Lever - Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 1

The young ladies of the family were a well-chosen auditory, for their admiration of the army extended from the Life Guards to the Veteran Battalion, the Sappers and Miners included; and as Miss Dashwood was the daughter of a soldier, she of course coincided in many of, if not all, his opinions. I turned towards my neighbor, a Clare gentleman, and tried to engage him in conversation, but he was breathlessly attending to the captain. On my left sat Matthew Blake, whose eyes were firmly riveted upon the same person, and who heard his marvels with an interest scarcely inferior to that of his sisters. Annoyed and in ill-temper, I ate my breakfast in silence, and resolved that the first moment I could obtain a hearing from Mr. Blake I would open my negotiation, and take my leave at once of Gurt-na-Morra.

We all assembled in a large room, called by courtesy the library, when breakfast was over; and then it was that Mr. Blake, taking me aside, whispered, “Charley, it’s right I should inform you that Sir George Dashwood there is the Commander of the Forces, and is come down here at this moment to – ” What for, or how it should concern me, I was not to learn; for at that critical instant my informant’s attention was called off by Captain Hammersley asking if the hounds were to hunt that day.

“My friend Charley here is the best authority upon that matter,” said Mr. Blake, turning towards me.

“They are to try the Priest’s meadows,” said I, with an air of some importance; “but if your guests desire a day’s sport, I’ll send word over to Brackely to bring the dogs over here, and we are sure to find a fox in your cover.”

“Oh, then, by all means,” said the captain, turning towards Mr. Blake, and addressing himself to him, – “by all means; and Miss Dashwood, I’m sure, would like to see the hounds throw off.”

Whatever chagrin the first part of his speech caused me, the latter set my heart a-throbbing; and I hastened from the room to despatch a messenger to the huntsman to come over to Gurt-na-Morra, and also another to O’Malley Castle to bring my best horse and my riding equipments as quickly as possible.

“Matthew, who is this captain?” said I, as young Blake met me in the hall.

“Oh, he is the aide-de-camp of General Dashwood. A nice fellow, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you may think,” said I, “but I take him for the most impertinent, impudent, supercilious – ”

The rest of my civil speech was cut short by the appearance of the very individual in question, who, with his hands in his pockets and a cigar in his mouth, sauntered forth down the steps, taking no more notice of Matthew Blake and myself than the two fox-terriers that followed at his heels.

However anxious I might be to open negotiations on the subject of my mission, for the present the thing was impossible; for I found that Sir George Dashwood was closeted closely with Mr. Blake, and resolved to wait till evening, when chance might afford me the opportunity I desired.

As the ladies had retired to dress for the hunt, and as I felt no peculiar desire to ally myself with the unsocial captain, I accompanied Matthew to the stable to look after the cattle, and make preparations for the coming sport.

“There’s Captain Hammersley’s mare,” said Matthew, as he pointed out a highly bred but powerful English hunter. “She came last night; for as he expected some sport, he sent his horses from Dublin on purpose. The others will be here to-day.”

“What is his regiment?” said I, with an appearance of carelessness, but in reality feeling curious to know if the captain was a cavalry or infantry officer.

“The – th Light Dragoons,”

“You never saw him ride?” said I.

“Never; but his groom there says he leads the way in his own country.”

“And where may that be?”

“In Leicestershire, no less,” said Matthew.

“Does he know Galway?”

“Never was in it before. It’s only this minute he asked Moses Daly if the ox-fences were high here.”

“Ox-fences! Then he does not know what a wall is?”

“Devil a bit; but we’ll teach him.”

“That we will,” said I, with as bitter a resolution to impart the instruction as ever schoolmaster did to whip Latin grammar into one of the great unbreeched.

“But I had better send the horses down to the Mill,” said Matthew; “we’ll draw that cover first.”

So saying, he turned towards the stable, while I sauntered alone towards the road by which I expected the huntsman. I had not walked half a mile before I heard the yelping of the dogs, and a little farther on I saw old Brackely coming along at a brisk trot, cutting the hounds on each side, and calling after the stragglers.

“Did you see my horse on the road, Brackely?” said I.

“I did, Misther Charles; and troth, I’m sorry to see him. Sure yerself knows better than to take out the Badger, the best steeple-chaser in Ireland, in such a country as this, – nothing but awkward stone-fences, and not a foot of sure ground in the whole of it.”

“I know it well, Brackely; but I have my reasons for it.”

“Well, may be you have; what cover will your honor try first?”

“They talk of the Mill,” said I; “but I’d much rather try Morran-a-Gowl.”

“Morran-a-Gowl! Do you want to break your neck entirely?”

“No, Brackely, not mine.”

“Whose, then, alannah?”

“An English captain’s, the devil fly away with him! He’s come down here to-day, and from all I can see is a most impudent fellow; so, Brackely – ”

“I understand. Well, leave it to me; and though I don’t like the only deer-park wall on the hill, we’ll try it this morning with the blessing. I’ll take him down by Woodford, over the Devil’s Mouth, – it’s eighteen foot wide this minute with the late rains, – into the four callows; then over the stone-walls, down to Dangan; then take a short cast up the hill, blow him a bit, and give him the park wall at the top. You must come in then fresh, and give him the whole run home over Sleibhmich. The Badger knows it all, and takes the road always in a fly, – a mighty distressing thing for the horse that follows, more particularly if he does not understand a stony country. Well, if he lives through this, give him the sunk fence and the stone wall at Mr. Blake’s clover-field, for the hounds will run into the fox about there; and though we never ride that leap since Mr. Malone broke his neck at it, last October, yet upon an occasion like this, and for the honor of Galway – ”

“To be sure, Brackely; and here’s a guinea for you, and now trot on towards the house. They must not see us together, or they might suspect something. But, Brackely,” said I, calling out after him, “if he rides at all fair, what’s to be done?”

“Troth, then, myself doesn’t know. There is nothing so bad west of Athlone. Have ye a great spite again him?”

“I have,” said I, fiercely.

“Could ye coax a fight out of him?”

“That’s true,” said I; “and now ride on as fast as you can.”

Brackely’s last words imparted a lightness to my heart and my step, and I strode along a very different man from what I had left the house half an hour previously.

Although we had not the advantages of a southerly wind and cloudy sky, the day towards noon became strongly over-cast, and promised to afford us good scenting weather; and as we assembled at the meet, mutual congratulations were exchanged upon the improved appearance of the day. Young Blake had provided Miss Dashwood with a quiet and well-trained horse, and his sisters were all mounted as usual upon their own animals, giving to our turnout quite a gay and lively aspect. I myself came to cover upon a hackney, having sent Badger with a groom, and longed ardently for the moment when, casting the skin of my great-coat and overalls, I should appear before the world in my well-appointed “cords and tops.” Captain Hammersley had not as yet made his appearance, and many conjectures were afloat as to whether “he might have missed the road, or changed his mind,” or “forgot all about it,” as Miss Dashwood hinted.