The sky did not cloud over again, it remained blue and bright and coaxed
the waters of Lough Swilly to look blue and bright also. Flocks of white
sea gulls dipped, darted and sailed about in an abandonment of
enjoyment. Flights of ducks rose on the wing and whirled past.
We sailed between two forts that frown at one another in a grim and
desolate manner at Rathmullen. Was informed that a man-of-war ordinarily
lay at anchor in this Lough to keep half an eye on things in general,
and poteen, I suppose, in particular. It was complained that the blue
jackets, finding these mountain girls sweet and pretty, and easy to
keep - for since cows are become such a price, a good one, not one of the
bovine aristocracy, but a commonly good one, being value for L20, the
damsels of the hills are accustomed to "small rations of tea and
potatoes" - the sailors marry them, "and that," said my informant, "makes
servant girls scarce about here."
I did not sympathize properly with this complaint. I was glad to hear
that any form of humanity in this island is scarce. I hoped the blue
jackets were happy with their Irish wives, for a Liverpool sailor
lamented in my hearing that the girls of seaport towns did not often
make good sailors' wives.
