X
The I.R.A.
and The Lass
On the far side of the railroad crossing, Jeremiah Corrigan collapsed in
a quivering mass, and laughed himself silly. Wee Sean pulled up next to him,
panting through his smiles, and remembering just how far it was between the
Village and the crossing, and how much time they had cut out of the journey by
crossing fields, and wading through springs. “I’m bloody aging,” Wee Sean
huffed.
“Not as quickly as Eustace had,” Corrigan cackled with difficulty. “When
himself is seeing flames shooting up through the hole in the toilet. Funniest
thing I ever saw.”
Wee Sean laughed again. “Amen.” He patted his jacket down, wishing for a
sip, finding he had nothing. “I’m tired and I’m dizzy, and I hid a bottle of
Scotch in the back of the cart. How long would ya be thinking it’ll take before
Father Patrick and the others make it this far?”
“Make yourself comfortable, Little Man. It’ll be a while.”
Wee Sean laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. “I didn’t think old Kevin
had the legs under him to move as quickly as he did.”
“Bugger.”
*
They came across the pair, stretched out on a patch of ground, curled
comfortably against a rock. Jerry Corrigan serenaded the birds, crickets, hares
and insects with his version of Molly Malone. Wee Sean added a few notes that
may have been closer to what the writer had in mind when he wrote the song.
Eamonn Darcy pulled the horse to a stop as all paused to examine the unusual
sight. “Would either of you be sober?” Father Patrick asked from behind.
“I’d love to say we aren’t,” Jerry Corrigan replied, between choruses,
“But the fact is, you have the Little Man’s Scotch whiskey hidden in the bottom
of the cart.”
Brendan Kelly stepped up to the back of the cart and dug about. He pulled
out the bottle and held it aloft. “So they’re drunk on their antics,” he said
with a crooked smile. “I take it Kevin Eustace would be using the privy when
the two of ya dropped a kitchen match down the outside vent.”
Wee Sean curled up and giggled. “Lucky coincidence,” Jerry Corrigan said
with a smile. “Should we open the bottle, Wee Sean?”
“Even the best alcohol is only half as good when you drink it alone. Open
it, Brendan, and pass it about.”
* * *
Liam truly enjoyed himself when the last time the whole of them and a
goat, floated in using only the grace of God as their wind and their oars. And
he enjoyed himself that much more this time, although this time it was a calf.
Again, the animal was forgotten. While Jeremiah Corrigan lifted Wee Sean bodily
from the bottom of the Boat, Jack, the little yellow dog, chased the calf off
the strand, and about the opposite side of the storehouse. “Bridey!” Liam
called. “Ya got to see this.” He laughed as she appeared next to him.
Sprite peeked up over the gun rail but remained where he was.
Corrigan carried the little man up the strand away from the waves washing
in. He dropped Sean, face first, into the sand. He staggered, and spread his
legs to stabilize himself. “Good enough,” the big man told Rory Murphy. “If the
bloody boat floats off, Wee Sean won’t be on it.”
“No,” Rory commented, pushing back his cap and wiping his bald spot.
“Come morning he’ll be eating sand.”
“Tell me he has a sand sickness.”
Rory examined Wee Sean’s back end. Then his closest friend. “Where’s the
calf?”
Liam laughed
that much harder. Bridey bit her lips and folded her arms. Without a word she
faded away. “Bridey?” he called. He shrugged and turned away from the scene.
“Bridget, come on. I promised you, didn’t I?”
* * *
His head hurt, his stomach hurt, and the sun seared straight through his
eyelids. Jackdaws screamed at him from above. Water fowl cawed, cried and
shrilled at him as the craft scraped against stones on the water bottom. The
waves slammed against the sides and it rocked. Every movement and every sound
seemed to take on its own frightening personality. When Brendan moved, Sprite
whimpered. The boat rocked violently as the dog crawled over the top of him.
Bloody hard to breath. The man slapped his hand over his eyes and tried to push
the dog away. He wiped the slobber on his sleeve.
Sprite would be Liam O'Brennigan’s revenge for Bridey’s terrible temper.
Just like him to blame Brendan for his sister’s sins. Brendan pushed the dog
from his face again, and sat up, banging his head on the seat at the backend of
the boat. He had floated into Carlingford Bay, and along the coast. It was the
same route he and Sean traveled when they escorted Brigadier Wendall and the
Lady into Ulster.
No comments:
Post a Comment