Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick

Home > Other > Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick > Page 9
Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick Page 9

by James Kilcullen


  Gulliver was put standing up in the centre of the road, facing the town, with eight strong men holding the tie ropes. Four men, in relays of two, would move his big legs forward slowly. A gigantic figure, all of 60 feet tall, he would be followed by Martin Sandys, Taoiseach Frankie Carney, his ministers, Battler Barry and Paulo, a lone trooper carrying the national flag, the town band and its seven hundred inhabitants.

  Captain Oliver Browne, head of the countries tank force—two survivors of the 39–45 war—located one at the Galway road end; his own, on the crooked bridge at the Connemara end, effectively creating a barrier between the people and Crat’s heavily armed troops who were patrolling the Main Street. He knew how volatile these situations could become.

  A big outgoing native of Cong, he loved to fish and shoot in Connemara. His concern was to ensure the safety of the locals. Two days earlier he met Taoiseach Frankie Carney in Galway and suggested the march be rerouted to avoid the town. No, Frankie decided; that would be handing victory to Crat.

  Crat, carrying his baton, strutted around hoping the TV cameras were picking up his best profile. This would be Waterloo for those stupid peasants. His victory would be watched by his superiors on live TV. Unprepared to share his moment of glory, he ordered Madame to return to the office. Understandably, she was furious.

  Before leaving Galway, Frankie phoned the DG and asked him to instruct Crat to allow the march take place peacefully. It wasn’t as if the people of Conna were doing anything illegal; the condition regarding notice could be waived. Frankie was surprised at his reaction: Crat had the Council behind him. He wouldn’t interfere, although he hoped the day would pass without incident.

  It was clear that this was one battle the people of Conna couldn’t win. A team of ambulances from Galway University Hospital was parked out the Galway road; paramedics entered the town quietly. Conna GP’s stood by. The clinic in Moycullen prepared to take in casualties. The people of Conna—as everyone knew—would put up a good fight: however pointless.

  Having Ulick put in jail was seen as a clever move by the arrogant Crat. The TV crew took wide shots of the town, including Crat strutting around Napoleon style. Millions of people, at home and abroad, watched with interest. Tension increased as the day progressed.

  Unseen, Dandaboy and Setanta sat on the bridge wall—high above the deep waters of the river—watching events. The big dog was worried; Dandaboy looked pensive.

  ‘What you going to do, Dan, Dan?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Gulliver, now standing tall, came around the tree lined corner some four hundred yards from the bridge; he was moved forward slowly, step by step. Everyone followed. The band started to play “The West’s Awake.” Captain Browne sat quietly in the turret of his tank. Crat moved closer to the bridge. Millions watched and waited.

  Suddenly, a great roar erupted from the natives of Conna; the TV cameras zoomed in on the front of the parade. A smiling Ulick Joyc, greeted affably by the entire community, was now leading the march. The roaring continued and became even louder when word of Ulick’s appearance spread through that great crowd. Gulliver marched on.

  ‘How you do that?’ Setanta asked.

  Dandaboy merely smiled, but he still looked pensive.

  Crat screamed at Captain Browne. ‘Arrest Joyc.’

  ‘Do you want a massacre on your hands?’

  ‘The law must be upheld,’ Crat screamed at him.

  ‘My orders are to stop this march peacefully,’ he retorted angrily.

  Setanta looked at Dandaboy with increasing adulation.

  ‘What happen now, Dan?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  It can’t be said that Setanta believed this.

  On they came, slowly, towards the bridge, with Gulliver wavering high above them in the light breeze. Ulick’s presence buoyed up his people, but how could they get past the tank? That same question was occupying his great mind; he hoped Dandaboy—as so many times in the past—would come to their rescue. But how could the brave little man move that bloody tank?

  On they came, until Gulliver stood wavering twenty yards from the tank. Crat screamed at the Captain. ‘Open fire, don’t let them pass.’

  The captain, busily looking for a bloodless solution, called down to his gunner.

  ‘Joe, put a shell through that big bastard’s chest, well above the heads of the people.’

  ‘Yes, Captain.’

  There was silence for a few moments; Gulliver stood there, towering above the people; the TV cameras zoomed in on the harmless looking giant; everyone waited. Then, the tank fired a single shell; it ripped through Gulliver’s chest, out through his back and disappeared into the western sky. The people gasped. Silence followed.

  The big figure wavered; great gusts of wind were heard evacuating his punctured body; the tie ropes were abandoned. He stood there for all of ten seconds; then fell slowly forward, his big head hitting the roadway in front of the tank, his long arms stretched out by his side.

  Crat marched forward triumphantly, holding a megaphone.

  ‘This is an illegal march. Disperse immediately, and return to your homes. Law and order will be maintained at all costs.’

  The people screamed defiantly at him.

  Setanta noticed it first; Gulliver’s fingers started to twitch; his great hands began to move slowly forward until they were level with his shoulders; he pushed against the roadway, raising his big head slowly. The crowd gasped—Ulick smiled—while Crat took several steps backwards and screamed at Captain Browne. ‘Open fire.’ The captain ignored him. Slowly, Gulliver got to his knees; then, under his own steam, stood up and glared at the offending tank. Everyone gasped. The holes in his body had disappeared.

  Setanta was ecstatic. ‘That was a bloody good one, Dan, Dan.’

  He grinned. ‘Wasn’t it.’

  Gulliver let out a mighty roar; put his big hands on the front of the tank and began to push it backwards.

  ‘Open fire,’ Crat screamed. ‘The law must be upheld.’

  He was ignored.

  Ulick led his people forward. Setanta was so excited; he stood up on the narrow wall and started to leap up and down. Dandaboy joined him, grinning with delight. Setanta forgot where he was; stumbled and fell—with a great splash—into the waters below, becoming visible as he did so. Everyone cheered while the town’s favorite dog swam to the bank and climbed up on to the crowded roadway. They laughed with delight and the release of tension while Setanta shook himself and scattered water on those nearest to him.

  Ulick patted him on the head. ‘I knew you were around somewhere; where is Dandaboy?’

  Setanta nodded towards the bridge.

  ‘Open fire.’ Crat screamed again at the captain.

  Gulliver pushed the tank back slowly. The armed troops retreated fearfully. Captain Browne had enough; he ordered his driver to swing free of Gulliver’s massive hands.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Crat screamed at him.

  ‘I’m getting the hell out of here and I suggest you do likewise.’

  He shouted to his driver. ‘Back to base Joe, at full speed.’

  Laughing, cheering, shouting, the people streamed across the bridge, followed by the band, playing “Galway Bay.” Left to face the approaching triumphant natives, Crat dropped the megaphone, and, white faced, raced, in a most undignified manner to the safety of his office; as seen by millions of people throughout the USE. Madam expressed sympathy with her master, whilst privately taking great pleasure in his humiliation.

  Crat’s troops dropped their arms and ran for their lives. Gulliver marched up the Main Street, followed by the people of Conna, and stood outside Crat’s office. A megaphone was handed to Ulick.

  ‘Today, Mr. Crat, the people of Conna have shown you the courage and resolve that built this great country. We don’t need you or your directives here. Tell your masters we are an independent people; we will not be bullied; leave our town and don’t come back.’

/>   A great cheer greeted his comments. Battler shook him by the hand.

  ‘We have him on the run, President,’ he announced happily.

  Ulick grunted sourly. ‘Not while he’s in our town.’

  *

  Unbowed, Crat rang the jail in Galway; to be informed that Joyc was still in custody there. He screamed into the phone. ‘That’s impossible. Look at him on your TV screen. He’s leading an unlawful mob here in Conna.’

  The reply was terse. ‘Come in and I’ll show him to you.’

  Crat slammed down the phone and turned to his deputy.

  ‘We’ve got to get that dog and Joyc; our success here depends on it.’ He paused. ‘How could Joyc be here and in jail at the same time?’

  She shook her head. ‘I do not know. They talk about a Rath outside the town where little people live. They call them leprechauns.’

  ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘Isn’t it impossible that Joyc be in two places at the one time, and what about the disappearing dog?’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  He would never concede that she might actually be right.

  ‘What will you do about it?’ she asked.

  He made up his mind. ‘We’ll destroy that damn Rath.’

  *

  A few days later, Crat marched boldly into his office.

  ‘I’ve got him.’ he announced proudly.

  ‘Who?’ Madame asked.

  ‘Joyc. The mayfly—whatever that is—is up. He’s fishing on the lake. I’ve ordered a boat to meet us at Maam Bridge.’

  ‘I thought he was in jail?’ She asked.

  ‘He was released last night.’

  ‘On what charge this time?’ she inquired.

  ‘Leading an illegal parade; we have him on video.’

  ‘But the police swear he never left the jail?’

  ‘This won’t be a matter for the courts. I will have the necessary authority under one of the new Directives.’

  She remarked sarcastically. ‘I look forward to hearing you have him in custody again.’

  She would exact due vengence for being kept in the office on Sunday, regardless of being saved the embarrassment of displaying—to the people of USE—her ample figure fleeing from the monster.

  ‘Madame, I will need your assistance this time. Bring your camera.’

  An onlooker, and there was one, might have difficulty making sense out of this conversation. But Dandaboy got the important bit: Ulick was in danger.

  When Crat, with Madame sitting beside him, drove out of Conna for Maam Bridge, in his shining new Mercedes, he was unaware he had two back seat passengers: Dandaboy and Setanta.

  *

  It was a cloudy day; a number of keen fishermen were making the most of the excellent fishing conditions on Lough Corrib. Ulick and Paulo took one of Jodi’s motor boats. Out from early morning, they were sustained by a mound of ham sandwiches prepared by Nan and a case of Guinness that was shrinking fast. With half a dozen fine brown trout—for which the Corrib is world famous—in the bag, they relaxed, chewed on a sandwich and downed another bottle of stout each. Ulick looked around at the beauty of Connemara; current problems temporarily put aside.

  ‘Here in the midst of such beauty there is peace and quiet; we are far removed from the world and its cares.’ Not for long.

  Paulo began to laugh. ‘As long as I live, I’ll not forget the sight of Gulliver marching down Main Street. He looked so angry. It’s being shown on HBTV every day since. The people in Galway are making a fortune showing him to the public at a euro a time.’

  Ulick raised his bottle. ‘Here’s to you, Dandaboy.’

  *

  Arriving at Maam Bridge, Crat was met by ten of his troops, fresh from their Waterloo. While Dandaboy and Setanta watched—unseen—they boarded one of the bigger fishing boats—as did the unseen—and set out on the lake. Setanta was itching to get his big teeth into Crat’s posterior; Dandaboy kept his hand on the noble wolfhound. Crat stood at the rail scouring the lake with his binoculars; Madame stood stiffly nearby, holding her camera.

  Jody wasn’t enjoying this trip, but the boat was hired and he had to go along with it. He wasn’t in any hurry to find Ulick and Paulo. Two of Crat’s worthy warriors stood behind him at the wheel. He chugged along at half speed, passing a number of boats with intent fishermen who passed no heed of them.

  Suddenly, Crat screamed. ‘I see them, over there to the left.’

  Putting aside his binoculars, he entered the wheelhouse—very excited now—and stood with Jody.

  ‘Ram them,’ he ordered.

  He reacted calmly. ‘I’m not ramming anyone.’

  ‘You do as I say; I’m in command of this boat.’

  Jody was angry now. ‘Not any longer you’re not; I’m turning around and going back to base.’

  Crat turned to one of his men. ‘Take the wheel.’

  ‘Like hell you will,’ Jody shouted.

  Quickly overpowered, he was removed from the wheelhouse.

  Dandaboy shook his head. ‘Time to go, Setanta.’

  ‘Where we go?’

  ‘We go to Ulick’s boat.’

  ‘How we go?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘We walk.’

  ‘I can’t walk on water.’

  ‘It’s all right; it has been done before.’

  ‘Not by me.’

  ‘I keep a good grip of you—come on.’

  Dandaboy eased him over the side of the boat; then leapt on to his back.

  ‘Go, Setanta, go,’ he ordered.

  Gaining confidence, he raced across the short distance and leapt into Ulick’s boat.

  Ulick and Paulo looked at them in astonishment, but there wasn’t time to explain. Dandaboy pointed at the big boat bearing down on them.

  ‘Bad man going to crash into boat.’

  A worried looking Setanta and Paulo looked on. Ulick started the engine.

  ‘We’ll outrun him.’

  They headed away quickly; their pursuers increased speed.

  It soon became clear they couldn’t hope to outrun the bigger boat. As it came closer, they could see Crat, standing in the bow. His troops opened fire. Bullets began to plop into the water all around them. Dandaboy leaned over the side. The bigger boat was so close now he could hear Crat shouting to his men. Madame was standing beside him.

  Suddenly, the waters of the lake began to churn up mightily; the boat rocked violently from side to side; they hung on for dear life. Out of all that agitation, a gigantic animal with a long neck, and two big dancing eyes, emerged from the waters. With a great gurgling sound it spurted water down upon them.

  Dandaboy stood up and pointed. ‘No, Manamann, not us, them.’

  He gurgled again and disappeared below the surface. When he resurfaced he poured a mighty gusher of water on the pursuing boat.

  ‘That’s a bloody good one, Dan, Dan.’ Setanta bared his teeth in a big smile while he shook himself.

  Ulick and Paulo were dumbfounded.

  Drenched, Crat raced to the shelter of the wheelhouse; Madame hung on grimly to the rail. The terrified troops dropped their guns and grasped the sides of the boat. Manamann continued to blast the vessel with increasing volumes of water; each time nodding his head at Dandaboy and gurgling with delight. He was really enjoying this. Dandaboy grinned back at him.

  The big vessel came to a stop with mountains of water pouring off it; it stood there for a while. Released now, Jody took the wheel. He started the engine and headed back towards base. Dandaboy waved to Manamann; he chortled once more before disappearing beneath the waters of the lake.

  Mystified, Paulo shook his head. ‘Bloody hell, we’ve spent months trying to invent a monster and one here all the time.’

  Ulick turned to Dandaboy. ‘Where did he come from?’

  He smiled. ‘Manamann live in the lake; he not appear again.’

  Ulick grinned. ‘He doesn’t need to. Once word goes out, Connemara will be full of tourists
.’

  *

  Back in his office, after a shower and quick change of clothes, Crat sat down with Madame.

  ‘I’ve instructed my troops not to talk about the monster. I don’t want the area overrun by tourists. There is no evidence, except the photographs you took. Let me have the film; I’ll destroy it.’

  ‘I’m sorry Director, the camera fell overboard. It’s at the bottom of the lake; no one will ever find it.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘It cost me four euro.’

  ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘Have that Galway public works contractor, Fahy, come to see me tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Are there any doctors in this town?’

  ‘Are you ill, Director?’ she sounded concerned.

  ‘It’s just an infected toe,’ he replied dismissively.

  ‘Best have it attended to immediately, Director, I have a cousin who lost his leg through neglecting a sore toe. I’ll get you the name of a local doctor.’

  *

  News of the Lough Corrib monster spread like wild fire throughout the country; journalists rushed out to Conna and started interviewing anyone prepared to talk to them; others hired motor boats in Galway and headed up river. TV cameras scanned the surface of the lake, awaiting the next appearance. It was reported that international media people were seeking accommodation throughout Connemara. A great air of excitement and expectation pervaded the area.

  Crat’s dogmatic denial—on live TV—that there was a monster, was ignored. Ulick and Paulo considered the situation carefully.

  ‘For once Crat has played into our hands,’ Ulick remarked after watching the live interview.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Paulo asked.

  ‘We know there’s a monster in the lake, but that’s too cut and dried. It would be better if people think that possibility exists; that would retain the magic and curiosity for decades to come.’

  ‘Like Lough Ness?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Later, with Paulo standing beside him, Ulick faced the TV camera and his old friend, journalist Nick Fenton, senior news commentator in HBTV in Galway. Nick, who lived in Moycullen, was a keen fisherman and a frequent visitor to Paulo’s. Instead of his casual tee shirt and grey slacks—he was on camera—the sprightly elderly journalist wore a check blazer, black shirt and a collar and tie.

 

‹ Prev