Every Man Will Do His Duty by Dean King

have emptied one of their brandy casks, we should have been welcome. Having regaled ourselves, we assisted them to remove their property to a place of safety.
    We now went heartily to work in removing provisions, cannon, gunpowder, and various stores, besides a vast quantity of baggage and household articles; for the poor emigrants could not afford to leave any things behind them. There were many novel scenes exhibited in Bastia at this time. Whole families might be seen moving along with their little stock of goods under the protection of British sailors or soldiers, while their enemies could do no more than look on with envy and vexation, and see themselves deprived of their intended plunder.
    Our sailors had plenty of opportunities of displaying their gallantry; for it was nothing uncommon to see two or three of our ship’s crew marching along with a female under each arm, convoying them safely to the place of embarkation. Here you might see a group of men conveying a lot of furniture, while the family were carrying the lighter articles, such as bandboxes, bundles, and such-like gear. Our carpenter’s second mate was an Irishman, and a merry fellow he was; but he was rather ill-favoured in his appearance. He had somewhat of a squint about his eyes, rather a flat nose, and a wide mouth, and he passed by the cognomen of the “Munster Beauty.” Poor Pat Macguire! he was as able a seaman as ever sailed in the fleet; and whenever he committed a blunder it was on the right side: he lived long enough to see much service, for I think it was in the battle of Trafalgar that a grape-shot signed his death-warrant.
    Pat Macguire had charge of the removal of the domestic part of the goods, and proud enough he was of the berth, and well pleased into the bargain; for Pat was always fond of being in ladies’ company, and here he was surrounded by all ranks. Old and young, rich and poor—all came to consult Pat as to the manner in which they were to proceed.
    Some of our strongest men, who were employed in removing the cannon and other cumbersome materials, took good care to jeer Pat Macguire in his enviable employment. One would say, “There’s Mister Macguire, the lady’s man—pretty, delicate creature—he’s obliged to be stationed here to look after the gowns and petticoats, because our work is too hard for him.”
    Old Jack Townsend (the grumbler) would say, “What can you expect of an Irishman?—They never were able seamen; they’re of no use on board, unless it be to act as washerwomen.”
    “A bull—a bull!” cried Pat Macguire; “who ever heard of a man-washerwoman? Now, look you, Master Townsend, it’s no use your jibing and jeering after that fashion, because ye see the Captain has picked me outfor this especial service, because I was one of the most polite and best-behaved of the crew. And let me tell you that there’s neither man, woman, nor child, that sails on the salt sea, that knows how to accommodate the ladies better, or half so well, as an Irishman. So, roll that up as a quid and chew it, Master Townsend, if you plase.”
    “Ugh!” said old Townsend, “that’s all you’re good for. I dare say the Captain will give you a new berth aboard—he’ll make you head nurse to the women.” “Och, good luck to him!” cried Pat; “I wish he may. Hurrah, old Jack! Pat Macguire’s just the boy for a nursery-maid.”
    Had our time not been too much occupied, we should have derived much amusement by setting old Townsend and Pat Macguire on the high ropes, but our duty was rather hard, and time was running short, and, therefore, there was no other jeering except a little occasional shy fighting between these two, whose opinions differed as widely as the east and west winds.
    Pat Macguire was also a bit of a politician and occasionally made some very shrewd remarks. When the despatch arrived which ordered us to evacuate Corsica, it caused much murmuring in the fleet, particularly among those who had seen