When Phil arrived at the vessel, he found the captain in a state of
peculiar difficulty. About twelve or fourteen gentlemen of rank and
property, together with a score or upwards of highly respectable
persons, but of less consideration, were in equal embarrassment. The
fact was, that as no other vessel left Liverpool that day, about five
hundred Irishmen, mostly reapers and mowers, had crowded upon deck, each
determined to keep his place at all hazards. The captain, whose vessel
was small, and none of the stoutest, flatly refused to put to sea with
such a number. He told them it was madness to think of it; he could not
risk the lives of the other passengers, nor even their own, by sailing
with five hundred on the deck of so small a vessel. If the one-half of
them would withdraw peaceably, he would carry the other half, which was
as much as he could possibly accomplish. They were very willing to grant
that what he said was true; but in the meantime, not a man of them
would move, and to clear out such a number of fellows, who loved nothing
better than fighting, armed, too, with sickles and scythes, was a task
beyond either his ability or inclination to execute. He remonstrated
with them, entreated, raged, swore, and threatened; but all to no
purpose. His threats and entreaties were received with equal good-humor.
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