The man slunk back among the others in silence.  The old Jew, who had not interfered, being in presence of Nancy, who had superior commands, now read the oath, which was of a nature not to be communicated to the reader without creating disgust.  It was, however, such an oath as was taken in those times, and has since been frequently taken in Ireland.  It was subscribed to by Jemmy and his wife without hesitation, and they were immediately enrolled among the members of the association.  As soon as this ceremony had been gone through, Nancy and her proteges quitted the house and returned to her lodgings, when it was agreed that the next night they should go over to the island, as Jemmy’s services were required in the boat in lieu of Ramsay, whose place as steersman he was admirably qualified to occupy, much better, indeed, than that of a rower, as his legs were too short to reach the stretcher, where it was usually fixed.

The next evening the weather was calm and clear, and when they embarked in the boat of the old fisherman, with but a small portion of their effects, the surface of the water was unruffled, and the stars twinkled brightly in the heavens; one article which Jemmy never parted with, was in his hand, his fiddle.  They all took their seats, and the old fisherman shoved off his boat, and they were soon swept out of the harbour by the strong ebb tide.

“An’t this better than being on board with Vanslyperken, and your leave stopped?” observed Moggy.

“Yes,” replied the husband.

“And I not permitted to go on board to see my duck of a husband—­confound his snivelling carcass?” continued Moggy.

“Yes,” replied Jemmy, thoughtfully.

“And in company with that supernatual cur of his?”

Jemmy nodded his head, and then in his abstraction touched the strings of his violin.

“They say that you are clever with your instrument, Mr Salisbury,” observed Nancy Corbett.

“That he is,” replied Moggy; “and he sings like a darling duck.  Don’t you, Jemmy, my dear?”

“Quack, quack,” replied Jemmy.

“Well, Mr Salisbury, there’s no boat that I can see near us, or even in sight; and if there was it were little matter.  I suppose you will let me hear you, for I shall have little opportunity after this?”

“With all my heart,” replied Jemmy; who, taking up his fiddle, and playing upon the strings like a guitar, after a little reflection, sang as follows: 

     Bless my eyes, how young Bill threw his shiners away,
       As he drank and he danced, when he first came on shore! 
     It was clear that he fancied that with his year’s pay,
       Like the Bank of Old England, he’d never be poor. 
     So when the next day, with a southerly wind in
       His pockets, he came up, my rhino to borrow;
     “You’re welcome,” says I, “Bill, as I forked out the tin,
       But when larking to-day—­don’t forget there’s to-morrow.”