So here he was, this November day, engaged on digging the last third of his acre. It was hard digging. The ground had been bruised and pressed for centuries and the top of it for almost a foot deep, was a tough mass of heather roots and sedge roots and wild flower roots and herb roots. It had to be cut into on each side and then hefted out by the lever of the leg and then chopped and hit until it broke and lay open and later on the hard frost would see to the killing and the sifting of it.
Peter was drawing seaweed from the far seashore with the little horse, and up behind him he could see his small flock of sheep grazing the side of the hill. He couldn’t miss seeing Mary Ann who was herding them. She was carrying a long-handled pike, in case a wolf should make a sneak attack from the far mountains, and she had tied a yellow cloth on the top of the pike so that it fluttered in the breeze. She had the handle planted in the ground, so if you wanted to know where she was you looked towards the sheep, saw the fluttering flag, and then looking closer you could see her heavily bundled figure under the lee of a rock.
It was midday when Dominick saw a slowly ambling horse coming from the land below in. the valley of the two lakes. At first he thought it was Peter, but looking more closely he saw that the horse was carrying a mounted man, not drawing a seaweed-laden sledge. He marvelled at the way living in lonely places made you so curious. A horse and rider passing a mile away; a man and a dog on the slopes of a distant mountain side, a boat on the sea, all gave your mind food for speculation and curiosity. This man wasn’t half way to him when he recognized Awley O’Daigean. Awley was a fine fat man, reminding him sometimes with a thrill of sorrow of a rustic edition of Tom Tarpy. He had big jowls, big limbs, and a big heart; a pleasant man of cunning.
He was doing well. He had moved in to serve the planter who had taken the holding and the big house near the sea. He served him well. This man, who was an ex-Colonel, was appreciative of his efforts. He had brought two working people with him from the army, but after a few months of Awley’s persuasive treatment the two men in high dudgeon went back the way they had come, and Awley’s niece and his fourth cousin took their places. There wasn’t a week passed since, that a near relative of Awley’s didn’t become indispensable to the Colonel. Before he knew where he was, Dominick thought smiling, Awley’s Colonel would be wearing an Irish moustache, a saffron shirt; be speaking Irish and calling for a Catholic priest. He speculated if when things quietened down and the whole land was possessed by them, the same procedure wouldn’t be duplicated all over the country. It seemed a sly way of getting back your possessions, but at least it meant you didn’t have to shed your blood for them.
‘The blessing of God on the work!’ Awley shouted in his booming voice when he was hundreds of yards away.
Dominick didn’t want to bust a gut roaring that distance, so he contented himself by waving, leaning on the handle of the spade, and watching the other’s approach.
Finally he came up, and leaned on his belly with great sighs and grunts to dismount from the horse. It seemed to Dominick that the horse was very pleased to get rid of Awley.
‘Well, well,’ Awley said then. ‘Isn’t it you that’s hard at it, night and day? Man, you’re as busy as a tide. I brought you a few salted sea fish and a little bag of sugar for the children.’
‘We are grateful to you,’ said Dominick, taking the basket from him. Awley searched two or three pockets for the small screw of sugar wrapped preciously in a linen bag.
‘Well, God forgive me,’ said Awley puffing, ‘but I wouldn’t live near that lake below for all the sugar in the world, and that’s a fact. Have ye seen him yet?’
‘Seen who?’ Dominick asked.
‘The each uisge, the dobharchu,’ said Awley.
‘Who the hell is he?’ Dominick asked.
‘Oh, wait’ll you see him,’ said Awley. ‘I saw him myself only five years ago or maybe six. I was out with the hound, in the August time. We were looking for a few heather hens for the pot, down along by the heather on the lake. I was walking along by the shore, and kill me if he didn’t come out of the water at me, and grab me by the elbow. You never saw such a sight in your life. He had a black shining skin on him, a switch tail without any hair, and he was as big as a greyhound. He had a big long gob on him like a horse, and sharp teeth like needles. I was a gone man, but the dog came after him and bit him on the black backside and he had to let me go and off with him to the depths of the water. Here, I’ll show you the marks of the teeth of him in me arm. But I was thinner then, and since I put on weight, damn if the flesh didn’t close on the marks. But he’s still there, ready to grab you.’
‘You weren’t drinking that day?’ Dominick asked.
‘I had a round of uisge beatha with me, I’ll admit,’ said Awley, ‘but there wasn’t enough of it to overflow a pinhole. I know you don’t believe me but that water-horse is there and he’s bad stories. My mother-in-law died the day after.’
‘You must have loved her,’ said Dominick.
‘I might have done if it wasn’t against nature,’ said Awley, ‘but the fact is there. I saw, and a person died. I have a message for you.’
‘Oh?’ said Dominick.
‘The Colonel does have visitors sometimes,’ said Awley. ‘Fellas from the garrison at Cliogan, or off the Island of Death. They bring their men with them. One of these told me this message.’
‘For me?’ Dominick asked.
‘He didn’t know,’ said Awley. ‘He only knew the message. He had been paid to deliver it to someone in the hope it would get to the right quarter. But I guessed. Listen.’ He looked around him elaborately. They say that the hawks have ears,’ he said. ‘This is the message: To the little fair man who is a stranger in the tract of Murdoc, from the tall skinny man from Drogheda. Now before I go on, could this be you?’
‘This is me,’ said Dominick with his heart beating faster.
‘I thought it was,’ said Awley, with satisfaction. ‘Here is the rest of it. On the south shore of the middle lake in the Island of Death there is a tall black stone. I will be there at each full moon. That’s all.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Dominick.
‘Listen,’ said Awley. ‘These are dangerous times. It’s as well for people not to know too much, because they have ways of squeezing knowledge out of them. So I know nothing.’
‘Can I get a boat?’ asked Dominick.
‘Since they took over the island,’ said Awley, ‘ no boat is permitted near the shore. If caught, death, straight away. They drown them. Even the fishing boats can’t put out for fish without permission, and when they get the licence they must fish on certain courses not closer than ten miles. They send boats all around, day and night. It’s easier to get into heaven than into that hell.’
‘Can I get a boat?’ Dominick asked.
‘One man can’t row a boat,’ said Awley. ‘It will have to be that way. A boat with a sail won’t do.’
‘Can you get me a man?’ Dominick asked.
‘I could get a hundred men,’ said Awley, ‘but can I trust them?’
‘Listen, Awley,’ said Dominick, ‘if I had to I would swim out there.’
‘But you can’t swim another one off with you,’ said Awley. ‘They don’t treat them well. They are only skin and bones. You can smell that island when the wind is right.’
‘When is the first full moon?’ Dominick asked.
‘In four days’ time,’ said Awley.
‘Awley,’ said Dominick, ‘I don’t know many people. I am a stranger. Just get me the boat and tell me where it will be left and get me one man, even if he has only one leg. That’s all. And for the rest of my life I will pray for you.’
‘Oh, God,’ Awley sighed, ‘ the things that are placed on my shoulders. Listen, if there is a boat near Mamore and a man to help you, do you know that it will still take you five hours to go and five hours to come, with only twelve hours of darkness in between? What is the use of you dying as well as the long skinny one?’
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‘Awley, just get me the boat,’ Dominick pleaded.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ said Awley. ‘All right. If no man calls on you before the night, you will have to leave it for a month. We’ll see, and if they, get you, cut your tongue out before they question you, do you hear?’ He said this seriously.
‘I’ll do that,’ said Dominick. ‘I’ll bring a sharp knife.’
‘I’m not a soldier,’ said Awley, going to his horse. ‘I don’t like blood. I don’t like being hurt. I just want to be happy. Look out for the water-horse. Remember I warned you about him.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ said Dominick, helping him on to the horse’s back.
Awley looked at the sky.
‘It looks like there’s wind in it. You better pray for no wind. The wind will wipe you out.’ He turned the horse’s head.
‘God bless you, Awley,’ said Dominick.
Awley snorted, and dug his heels into the horse’s side and Dominick watched him until he could see him no more, and found that he was as tense already as if he was on the sea, with weary waiting ahead of him.
‘God be inside with you,’ Dualta said, standing at the door.
Dominick whirled from the fire.
Dualta saw Mary Ann over at the table mixing flour for a cake. He bowed to her, his eyes twinkling. ‘ I see you well, most noble fair lady,’ he said, and winked at Peter who was smiling at him. Peter was writing on a slate.
‘God be with you too,’ said Dominick. ‘Won’t you come in and take our welcome?’
‘Awley sent me,’ said Dualta.
Dominick was dismayed.
Good God, he thought I asked for a man and he sent me a boy. The boy’s eyes were steady on his own. He could almost read his thought. ‘ I am taller than yourself,’ said Dualta, ‘and I know the sea, and we are stealing my father’s boat.’
Dominick took a second look at him. Calm eyes and a strong chin, and big spatulate hands, with promise of power in them.
‘I didn’t mean to belittle you with my thoughts,’ he said. ‘You are probably better than I would be at the sea.’
‘I know it,’ said Dualta. The time is short. We should be at the shore by dark.’
Dominick pulled on a cloak that was drying near the fire. He hadn’t told them yet. He wouldn’t tell them now either.
‘Mary Ann,’ he said. ‘I will be gone for the night I hope to be back by first light.’ She was disturbed.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘Some place important,’ he said. ‘It’s better that you don’t know. But keep the fire up and gruel in the pot. I’ll be back,’ He kept the worry out of his eyes. Mary Ann was very sharp. He would have to have faith in his return, that was all, and not start thinking before he started what would happen if he didn’t come back. He went out of the door; ‘ You have a nice house,’ said Dualta to Mary Arm. Then he turned and followed Dominick. Mary Ann looked at Peter. He rose from his stool and they went to the door. They saw the two figures in the fading light heading down towards the lake. They stayed a long time looking after them.
‘Does your father know?’ Dominick asked.
‘No,’ said Dualta. ‘ Nobody knows. They think I am gone hunting. I don’t know what it is about, just that you want to get to Inis Bo Finne and come back and there may be somebody with you.’
‘It might be dangerous,’ said Dominick.
‘There are eleven sons in my family,’ said Dualta. ‘One won’t be badly missed out of that.’
‘Are you the eldest?’ Dominick asked.
‘I am the second,’ said Dualta.
They stood for a moment on the hill. There was a wind blowing from the north-west. It drove their clothes against their bodies. The moon was big on their right.
‘Is this wind bad?’ Dominick asked.
‘It’s the wrong direction for going,’ said Dualta, ‘but it is good for coming back. I think it will ease.’ There were black clouds scudding across the face of the moon.
They became circumspect as they approached the sea. They went to their knees twice when they saw the bodies of walking men silhouetted near the shore. Dualta led them. The ground was soggy in places. They crossed two streams that were in their way. They had to wade them. They were wet to their thighs. Then they came to the river that drained the two lakes. They followed along its bank until it debouched into the white sand near the sea.
It was quite dark. You couldn’t distinguish rocks from the land. Dualta swung away to the right into a gully. Here Dominick could see the black bottom of the canvas boat turned up. Dualta got under the slanting bow and raised it on, his shoulders. Dominick got under the stern of it. They walked it down to the river. Dualta went back and brought the oars. Dominick waited for him. When he came back, he held the boat while Dualta tied the oars to the thwarts. Then he whispered, ‘Now,’ and Dominick sat in behind him and they set the boat free. The current of the river took it towards the sea. They dapped with the oars to keep it off the sand, and then they had to row strongly where it met the force of the incoming tide. It was as well. The wind was cold. The waves were respectably high, but their tops weren’t broken. They kept in the shadow of the land as long as they could and then they went to the south of the Bullóg Rocks that broke the force of the sea into the bay.
This was a rough land. The island outside had once been part of it, but the great seas had torn a twelve-mile gap between the land here and the island, and in between were many rocks and a few small grass-covered islands that had resisted the power and beating of the eternal seas.
They didn’t talk. They saved their breath for what they wanted it for. Dominick was reassured by the way the boy in front of him was using his oars. Almost effortlessly, but with great power on the final jerky pull. He didn’t want to think of where he was going. He didn’t want to think that there was even a faint hope that when and if they returned Sebastian would be with them. His own hands were as hard as boards, so the shifting and grip on the oar-handles did nothing to them. He could hear the wood rubbing off their hard surface. They rowed for many hours. The wind wasn’t high, but it was there, and you knew it. Sometimes a squall came from behind him, and almost made the boat stand still, and then released it again, so that their oars missed the waves. He could feel the salt water soaking his back and beginning to slop around his feet. The rhythm of continual rowing makes your mind become almost blank. The moon, higher in the sky, was shining to the left of them. It shone on the sea. The land was black, and when they left the point of the peninsula behind them, he could see a few flickering lights from Murdoc’s group of buildings.
They were moving to the north of three great rocks into the passage between the rocks and a narrow island when out of the comer of his right eye he saw a movement. ‘ Stop,’ he whispered. He crouched down. The boy in front of him did the same. The boat drifted, towards the rocks. Dualta thought that if they came down on those rocks they were dead. It wasn’t the tall ones you could see, but the ones under the water with edges on them like sharp knives that would reef up their boat like a woman cutting cloth.
Dominick twisted his head.
He saw the bulk of a boat behind him. It was a boat with a sail. A squat one, slow moving. He could hear voices. Their own boat drifted towards the rocks. Soon they would be part of them. The sailing boat was tacking towards the moon. Blind them, O Lord, he thought, and a black cloud scudded and obscured the light. When Dualta saw the darkness, he jabbed his oars at the waves, backing the boat, and backing it again, and he held his breath as the clashing waves sped them between the tall rocks. Then they were through. The rocks were between them and the other boat, so they let it go and then started to ease round into the wind.
When the moon’s face cleared again the boat had tacked, and was speeding towards the dark bulk of the island on their right. They followed after it.
It drew away from them fast. When it was a sight away, Dualta went almost due north and aimed t
o go round the small narrow island lying off from the main one. They rounded this and on the side wind came down towards the big island. There was no sign of the sailing boat. In another hour their boat eased silently into a dark cove that was shut off from the light of the moon by the high land all around it, Dominick said to Dualta: ‘ Judge the time for yourself by the passage of the moon. If I am not back in about one hour, go home, so that you will be landed before dawn. You hear. If I am not back, go!’
‘Yes,’ said Dualta. ‘I hear.’
Dominick hoped he would heed it then as he climbed up to the top of the land. It was a rough craggy way, but not too high and not too hard to climb, and soon he lay on his belly on the top of it and looked. His vision was cut off by a higher bit of land ahead of him, so he rose and ran about fifty yards. It was rock-littered ground and it was only as he reached the top of this mount and threw himself flat that he heard the hoof of a horse knocking sparks from a stone. He buried his face in his arms. His heart was beating fast.
It had reason too, because he only escaped by a small margin. He saw the horseman almost within ten yards of him. When he came near, the horse shied. He got to his hands and knees ready to leap. The rider cursed the horse. He could almost hear the spurs cutting into the horse, who shied left and then right and went on protestingly. The rider cursed him. It was an English voice. The horse was cleverer than he, Dominick thought, as he relaxed. Soon he couldn’t hear them any more.
He saw the sheen of the lake below him. He thought of this island. It had contained the monastery of a holy saint. His name was Coleman. There were other saints on it too, and sinners like Grainne Ni Mhaille had a fortress there for her raiding. And other men had weaned a hard living from it, but it had never been put to such use as now. Here they buried the popish priests, schoolteachers, and other dangerous persons. It was shut off from all sides, so that the tales of the terrible things that happened on it flew on the breeze. There was a bishop they had chained to a rock and watched him as the tide came up and took away his life.
Seek the Fair Land Page 24