*
If that little yellow dog left his post, chances were it smelled food.
Liam sensed movement towards the Frontside, but so help him if only he could
smell. Memories of eating at Father Patrick’s table were good. And indeed when
he materialized on the bank by the storehouse, he found his mates with plates
in their hands. Wee Sean lifted a bottle to his lips, taking one of many
drinks. Reggie joined Liam. “Wee Sean,” Liam explained, “Is heading for a rare
drunk. ‘Tisn’t much of a drinker.”
Reggie squinted at the little man. “No offense,” he said, pulling to his
full height, “But what constitutes an Irish drinker?”
Liam chuckled. “Should I be comparing ourselves to your Brigadier?”
Reggie nodded. “Touché.”
He nudged Reggie as his wee friend slipped from his perch. Plates fell
and the burlap sack Corrigan carried down with him to the strand appeared and
fluttered over Wee Sean’s head. In a blink, the little man disappeared. “So
help me, Corrigan, I’ll be getting you in your sleep. I swear I will” Wee Sean
kicked and he squirmed, as Murphy attempted to tie a rope about his legs.
“Brendan, help! Father Patrick, so help me I’ll turn Orange on ya. Help me!”
“Will you look at them?” Liam demanded.
“I’m sure we can think of something to help him.”
“Sure. Sure.” Liam waved at his companion. Wee Sean kicked as hard as he
could, nearly knocking Murphy away.
“Wee Sean,” Father Patrick soothed, as he and Brendan pulled the boat
closer, “It’d be a lot easier on all of us, if you’d calm down a bit.”
“Ya hear me, Father,” the wee man called as Murphy tied the last knot.
“So help me, if the Orange won’t have me, I’ll declare myself a Druid! And ‘tis
your fault, it is! When you face the Creator, you can answer to him for driving
away one of His most faithful.”
“You’ll thank us for this come morning,” Corrigan replied. “Come on,
lads, heave ho.” Murphy grabbed his feet and Corrigan his head. Arthur and
Smith held the boat in place. Sprite jumped in. He moved to the bow, barking
his encouragement. The wee boat swayed back and forth as Sprite wagged his
tail.
“Brendan, you there? Brendan?”
“I’m here, Sean,” Brendan replied, lifting a blanket from the bottom of
the boat.
“Do something about this!”
“I can’t, Wee Sean, they’re holding me down. Honest!”
“So help me, Kelly, you’re a terrible liar!”
Wee Sean landed in the boat and Brendan dropped the blanket over the
squirming, kicking bundle. Father kicked sand into the fire as the others
helped to push the boat into the water. As an after thought, Father Patrick
dumped the last of his skillet onto the sand.
Liam held his sides as he laughed. “Liam shame on you,” Bridey commented,
coming up beside the pair. “To take pleasure at another’s discomfort.”
“I would think we could have done something for the little chap,” Reggie
commented. “You did say he was your closest friend.”
“I did?” Liam glanced at the others. Bridey wouldn’t admit the enjoyment
she derived from all of this, and from the looks of his new Limey boyo, Reggie
seemed to enjoying this, too. Liam drew himself upright and crossed his arms.
“Well, if this happens again, we’ll have to see what ‘tis we can do from him.”
“What would you have in that twisted mind of yours?” Bridey asked.
Liam shrugged. “Knock him out maybe.
I mean a forward like him is too valuable to be leaving behind.” As he said it,
that wee yellow cur slipped out from behind the warehouse. He had his eye on
the food the Priest left on the strand.
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