This excerpt covers his time onboard The Research.
Catch-up with earlier posts in this series here.
Memoirs of Lord Charles Beresford – 1867 – The Research
In  I was appointed to the Research, which was stationed at Holyhead, and in which I served for a few months. There was a good deal of alarm felt with regard to the Fenians, who were active at the time, and the Research was ordered to look out for them. With my messmates, Caesar Hawkins, Lascelles, and Forbes, I hunted a good deal from Holyhead with Mr. Panton’s hounds. I also hunted with the Ward Union in Ireland. I used to cross from Holyhead at night, hunt during the day, and return that night.
Among other memories of those old days, I remember that my brother and myself, being delayed at Limerick Junction, occupied the time in performing a work of charity upon the porter, whose hair was of an immoderate luxuriance. He was – so far as we could discover – neither poet nor musician, and was therefore without excuse. Nevertheless, he refused the proffered kindness. Perceiving that he was thus blinded to his own interest, we gently bound him hand and foot and lashed him to a railway truck. I possessed a knife, but we found it an unsuitable weapon: my brother searched the station and found a pair of snuffers, used for trimming the station lamps. With this rude but practicable instrument we shore the locks of the porter, and his hair blew all about the empty station like the wool of a sheep at shearing-time. When it was done we made him suitable compensation.
“Sure,” said the porter, “I’ll grow my hair again as quick as I can, that way you’ll be giving me another tip.”
We had an old Irish keeper at home, whose rule in life was to agree with everything that was said to him. Upon a day when it was blowing a full gale of wind, I said to myself that I would get to windward of him to-day anyhow.
“Well, Harney,” said I. “It is a fine calm day to-day.”
“You may say that, Lord Char-less, but what little wind there is, is terrible strong,” says Harney.
A lady once said to him, “How old are you, Harney?”
“Och, shure, it’s very ould and jaded I am, it’s not long I’ll be for this world,” said he.
“Oh,” said she, “but I’m old, too. How old do you think l am?”
“Sure, how would I know that? But whatever age ye are, ye don’t look it, Milady.”
Excerpt from The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Charles Beresford written by himself and published in 1914.
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