In the “sixties” a new Lord-Lieutenant crossed in a special mail-steamer, for which he had the privilege of paying.

When my father went over to be sworn-in, we arrived at Holyhead in the evening, and on going on board the special steamer Munster, we found a sumptuous supper awaiting us.

There is an incident connected with that supper of which, of course, I knew nothing at the time, but which was told me more than thirty years after by Mrs. Campbell, the comely septuagenarian head-stewardess of the Munster, who had been in the ship for forty-four years.  Most habitual travelers to Ireland will cherish very kindly recollections of genial old Mrs. Campbell, with her wonderfully fresh complexion and her inexhaustible fund of stories.

It appears that the supper had been supplied by a firm of Dublin caterers, who sent four of their own waiters with it, much to the indignation of the steward’s staff, who resented this as a slight on their professional abilities.

Mrs. Campbell told me the story in some such words as these: 

“About ten minutes before your father, the new Lord-Lieutenant, was expected, the chiefs-steward put his head into the ladies’ cabin and called out to me, ’Mrs. Campbell, ma’am!  For the love of God come into the saloon this minute.’  ’What is it, then, Mr. Murphy?’ says I.  ‘Wait till ye see,’ says he.  So I go into the saloon where there was the table set out for supper, so grand that ye wouldn’t believe it, and them four Dublin waiters was all lying dead-drunk on the saloon floor.

“‘I put out the spirit decanters on the supper-table,’ says Mr. Murphy, ’and see!  Them Dublin waiters have every drop of it drunk on me,’ he goes on, showing me the empty decanters.  ’They have three bottles of champagne drunk on me besides.  What will we do with them now?  The new Lord Lieutenant may be arriving this minute, and we have no time to move the drunk waiters for’ard.  Will we put them in the little side-cabins here?’ ‘Ah then!’ says I, ’and have them roaring and shouting, and knocking the place down maybe in half an hour or so?  I’m surprised at ye, Mr. Murphy.  We’ll put the drunk waiters under the saloon table, and you must get another table-cloth.  We’ll pull it down on both sides, the way the feet of them will not show.”  So I call up two stewards and the boys from the pantry, and we get the drunk waiters arranged as neat as herrings in a barrel under the saloon table.  Mr. Murphy and I put on the second cloth, pulling it right down to the floor, and ye wouldn’t believe the way we worked, setting out the dishes, and the flowers and the swatemates on the table.  ‘Now,’ says I, ’for the love of God let none of them sit down at the table, or they’ll feel the waiters with their feet.  Lave it to me to get His Excellency out of this, and then hurry the drunk waiters away!’ And I spoke a word to the boys in the pantry.  ‘Boys,’ says I, ’as ye value your salvation, keep up a great clatteration here by dropping the spoons and forks about, the way they’ll not hear it if the drunk waiters get snoring,’ and then the thrain arrives, and we run up to meet His Excellency your father.