“Well?” Croga addressed Mulligan.
“Very impressive,” the big man replied. “But I don’t think you understand what I’ve warned about. Nuclear power is a completely different type of energy.”
“Yes,” Gorum said. “The presence of thunder and lightning rarely kills people or animals just by them being near it.”
“But,” Croga insisted, “do you not see that we may be the only ones to combat this awful threat. Just because it might be dangerous is no excuse for us to ignore the problem. We’ve tackled difficult challenges before and met with success. Why not this time? It has to be worth a try for the sake of mankind. After all, it’s our duty!”
The Shamrogues studied Croga’s earnest expression. When she mentioned words like duty, their consciences were prodded and they felt compelled to respond.
Mulligan, because he could guess what they were all thinking, spoke. “Listen. That place is far too dangerous. There are a number of things that it does to threaten us all. And none of them are pleasant.”
“Well then,” Trom declared, “I suppose we’d better know what they are. We can’t ignore what’s being done to our planet.” The rest of the Shamrogues had to agree.
“The buildings were first constructed for the manufacture of terrible weapons of destruction,” Mulligan said. “If not controlled or made obsolete altogether, these weapons could ultimately destroy the world. They generate radioactive waste, which poses the possibility of a nuclear accident, pollutes the environment and then, at the end of it all, produces more plutonium. So, by building the chemical plant, they may have brought Earth to the brink of nothingness. Now you know!”
An eerie and heavy silence haunted the confines of the cavern. So silent was it, in fact, that they could hear the slow drip-drip of water onto the surface of the still pool.
“Friends!” Sona exclaimed. “What has us so glum? Surely this challenge is meant for us. Let’s put it to a vote to decide whether we should tackle this serious problem.”
Trom smiled. “Sona is right. We should be prepared to face things as they are presented to us, and not to be afraid. Fear is a natural emotion and we should pay heed to it, but, nevertheless, we have been charged with a responsibility that we must carry out to the best of our ability. So…vote!” There was a show of hands.
The leader of the Shamrogues, having raised his own hand, counted, “One! Two! Three! Four….”
Then he paused. All eyes turned to Gorum. The blue creature was staring at the ceiling, a quizzical look on his face. His lips moved, as though he was having a conversation with himself. He seemed to be totally unconcerned with the others.
“Gorum,” Trom had to remind him, “are we to take it that you will not join us? We have no right to make you. But please even shake your head if you do not want to oppose the New-Killer Mulligan told us about. We’ve committed ourselves to our decision, so we must go. Let your conscience be your guide!”
“Oh,” Gorum said, rousing himself from his thoughts. “My conscience has nothing to do with it in any way. I’ve been merely contemplating another matter.”
“Huh?” Glic said. “Here we are, deeply involved in a subject that concerns us all, and you’re thinking about something else. Have you gone soft in the head?”
Gorum blinked. What was this he was hearing? Glic was being most outspoken. Almost as an afterthought, he raised his hand. “Are you not going to count me in as well?”
“Hooray!” Sona beamed happily. “Now we’re all going to grapple with the problem together.”
“But…” Trom said to Gorum, “what was the other matter you were contemplating? I’m entirely baffled.”
“Simple,” the blue creature replied. “I was wondering what method of transport we’d use to get there. After all, it’s a long way away. It’s too far for magic!”
At this, they seemed to be confused. Great distances would use too much power. What could be the answer?
Mulligan seemed to have it. “There’s something I’ve been keeping beneath my bed for some time that I suspected would come in handy some day. I think it should suit the purpose, although I wish you’d reconsider your decision. Anyway, come on and we’ll have a look. I’m not going to stand in your way if you must go….”
Chapter Eleven
Parting Gifts
Mulligan knelt with both knees firmly set on the hard-packed earthen floor of his home. Bending, backside in the air, head buried under the side of his wooden bed, he rummaged noisily about.
In his urgency to find what he had promised, the big man pulled out old boots and shoes, and a large parcel wrapped in brown paper tied with string. There was a broken and battered shoe box with newspaper clippings that tumbled out as Mulligan pushed it aside. A grubby herring-bone patterned overcoat was flung into a far corner, followed by a torn canvas bag full of empty jam jars, a well-thumbed world atlas and a book on astronomy, and…and…
“Well, well, what do you know,” Mulligan rumbled. He sneezed from the amount of dust he had disturbed beneath his bed. He edged backwards as he drew something out. “Here it is. My masterpiece!”
The Shamrogues looked up, curiosity making them all bright eyed and eager to see what the big man carried in his hands. He sat down and placed the black object across his lap, and blew hard at its dusty interior. The Shamrogues were showered with floating particles that tickled their noses when they breathed in. They sneezed, one after the other. When some order had been restored, they clambered to have a closer look at what Mulligan held. Before they could ask any questions, the big man spoke.
“This, my inquisitive little friends, is known as a currach. A boat, as you can see. I made it out of tarpaulin material stretched over a lattice timber frame, and I tarred it with a generous coating of pitch to make it waterproof and seaworthy. It’s an exact replica of the ones still in use in the West of Ireland by fishermen and islanders. This one, though, is very much smaller. Only fifty centimetres in length, my scaled-down currach is as good as the real thing. I designed it to skim and cut through the water as any sleek seaworthy vessel might. But, as true as penguins live in Antarctica, I never knew what prompted me to build it. Now, in the great mysterious way of the unexplained, I realise why.”
Mulligan held the currach up and admired its sturdy, yet simple, lines. It was good to know the little boat would no longer be a forgotten piece of work that had been constructed as a hobby. He laid it on the ground for the Shamrogues to admire. Next, he untied the string from around the brown paper package.
“Just some odds and ends,” he explained. “I parcelled these things when I came here first. One is a civvy-street suit I’ll probably never wear again unless I move back to civilisation, and the other is….Ah yes, here’s what I’ve been looking for. My old leaky tent. A square of this canvas should make a darned good sail. It will help your boat on its way. Winds permitting, of course.”
Trom inspected the craft. “Very fine to be sure. But we have no idea about how to sail such a vessel. Why, we’d probably all be drowned within the first five minutes.”
“Since we’ve decided to go, and since our host has so kindly given us the means with which to get there,” Gorum stated, “I suggest we should be positive. Anyway, with my wide-ranging knowledge of water, we should encounter few problems.”
Croga stepped up to the currach. “Also, the wind, as Mulligan has been wise enough to mention, should not be any bother. I can summon it to guide us wherever we want to go.”
It was beginning to sound as easy as setting out on an excursion or mystery trip. Mulligan smiled outwardly and was genuinely amused by their enthusiasm at taking on yet another challenge, but he could not help being worried also.
Sona and Glic were hopping in and out of the robust craft. They were surprised at how flimsy its exterior seemed, but they knew that the strength of the boat lay in the making of its structure. While Mulligan was cutting the sail, they eagerly went in search of a mast.
“Find a seasoned
oak branch that’s as straight as you can come up with,” the big man called after them.
By the time night was upon the land, the Shamrogues were prepared to make their departure.
“A parting drop of tea will help keep you warm, friends,” Mulligan said. “It will be cold on the river tonight. There are some things I’d like to give you before you leave, to remember me by.”
The Shamrogues were embarrassed by this thoughtful gesture.
“With all our running about today,” Trom said as spokesman, “we never thought of gifts. How selfish of us.”
Mulligan shook his head and his pearly grin appeared. “This very morning, you gave me Oak Glade. And something else even more important. You’ve all given me hope, not only for now, but for the future. So, in a way, you’ve given me the greatest gift ever, and I cannot thank you enough.”
Then the big man rose and towered in front of each Shamrogue in turn. He began with the leader.
“To you, Trom, I give a piece of cut citrine quartz. It’s the most precious form there is and is also similar to the type of quartz from which you come. Use it as you will. It is a bond with me.”
Mulligan moved a step to one side. Gorum peered up at him.
“Because of your knowledge of water, Gorum, I place you as captain of the currach, although Trom remains your leader in all other things. Steer it with wisdom and awareness.”
Croga folded her arms as Mulligan knelt and took the sabre tooth from around his neck.
“This will be your symbol of courage and power. With a little of your mighty magic, shrink it and wear it well.”
He smiled tenderly at Sona, who batted her eyelids in return. Mulligan removed the second necklace and offered it to her.
“This ancient insect in amber is to signify your endless love for every creature, both big and small. Do as I’ve instructed Croga and wear it as a token of the fondness I have for all living things.”
Mulligan came to Glic, who bashfully stared at the ground.
“So you thought I might have nothing left to give you? Well, you’d be wrong. Since you enjoy making flowers dance, I imagine you wouldn’t mind having some music to charm them by.” Here, the big man dug deeply into one of his pockets. “This tiny harmonica should do the trick. Each occasion you play it, think of me.”
Trom spoke again. “We thank you from the very depths of our hearts. Your generosity overwhelms us. We offer you our gratitude in return. Now, I think it is time to leave. You will be forever in our thoughts.”
Mulligan picked up the currach, which had been fitted with a tiller to steer her and a fine-masted sail.
“Where do you want to start out from?” he asked quietly.
Gorum had the answer ready. “TukTuk was able to make her way from such a distance away to the pond on the river. I don’t think it would be a bad idea for us to start our journey there.”
“Very fitting,” Trom agreed. “Let’s go.”
The journey in the darkness began with a certain solemnity as the little procession wound its way down the trail to the river. At the pond beyond the weir, Mulligan carefully laid the currach on the surface of the water that appeared to be a glowing sheet of dark blue as it reflected the beauty of the night sky above.
Slowly, and with touching tenderness, the big man helped each one of the Shamrogues to board the bobbing craft. It took some moments for them to find their balance, but after some shifting and settling they found their places.
There was a series of high-pitched shrieks. Peering up, they saw Molag and her followers arrive. The queen bat hovered above them and said, “We couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye. My bats and I will escort you to where the river meets the sea, where you will begin your voyage into the unknown.”
Trom stood unsteadily in the currach. “Thank you, Molag, we owe you a lot. We welcome your offer to accompany us.”
The leader held out his tiny hand, which Mulligan shook with the tip of his finger. Nothing needed to be said.
Kang and Aroo shyly bid goodbye and sped into the woods so as not to be there when the Shamrogues left. The emotion was all too much. From a distance, they chattered a final farewell.
The big man knelt and, for the first time since the Shamrogues had set eyes on him, he removed his bush hat. Gorum could not take his eyes off the top of the big man’s head. It shone in the moonlight.
“Bald like me!” the blue creature thought. “How nice!”
With a gentle push, Mulligan sent the craft out into the centre of the pond and on the beginning of its journey to a land beyond the sea. Hoarsely he called, “G’day little ones! Come back safely, now.”
Chapter Twelve
Bon Voyage!
The river was a willing helper on their trip to the sea. In places, it trickled over wide, shallow, pebble-strewn river beds, while at other times it rushed between steep banks that loomed high above the little currach. But there were worrying moments also.
Croga, arms folded in her usual stance, stood in the sharp prow at the front of the craft and kept watch. Gorum handled the tiller with confidence. In the middle of the boat, Trom, Sona and Glic, who were not so sure of themselves, sat around the oak mast which was really a sturdy stick. Here, they held on to whatever seemed solid enough and felt every jolt and quiver that the river delivered to the outer skin of the currach.
Swiftly, they sped around a looping bend where the river snaked into the shape of a huge horseshoe. An unfamiliar sound carried on the water from somewhere up ahead. Molag and her bats swooped closer to the currach and the queen swung from the crossbeam of the mast.
“Prepare for some rough going!” she shrieked to Trom. “The water up ahead becomes white-tipped and frothy. So hang on!” Then she flitted to join her followers. In a mass of furry bodies, the bats flew lower to dodge the overhanging branches. The Shamrogues found themselves racing madly over a spate of rock-scattered churning water.
“Rapids!” Glic howled with delight. “We’re flying over the river with the speed of a shooting arrow!”
“And it’s too fast for me altogether!” Trom said.
“Boulder…! Mind that nasty looking boulder straight ahead!” Sona screamed as they hurtled for a large jagged chunk of rock that protruded from the angry water.
The currach zoomed straight for the immovable obstacle, Gorum grappling with the tiller as the craft bucked and nose-dived. At the last possible moment, just as they were about to strike the great rock, the swirling river drew them to one side and they skimmed by the boulder.
“I managed that well!” Gorum exclaimed and tugged on the smooth arm of the makeshift tiller. “I really am getting the knack of this.”
Trom, who had covered his eyes with his hands, peeped through spread fingers. He found it hard to believe they were still in one piece and gliding over the water. But the rumbling, tumbling noise continued to bother him.
Croga, firmly at the prow, sounded a sudden alarm. “The river falls from sight and seems to have changed its course very recently!”
Little did the yellow creature realise that the deluge she herself had created earlier had swollen the river so much that it had broken its banks and now took a more hazardous route to the sea. Instead of gently meandering down a hillside, it plunged in a cascading torrent over the steepest part of the hill that fell into the valley below. The currach was merrily racing for the new waterfall. Such was the pull of the strong current that the tiller was useless and Gorum’s efforts were in vain as he tried to get the boat to the nearest bank. Panic quickly seized the crew and they prepared for the worst. To abandon the currach would mean an end to the mission entirely, but what could they do? It was even too late to consider magic.
Over the brim of the waterfall, the boat teetered for the merest second. The Shamrogues had each found something to cling on to, which they did for dear life. Then the currach began to fall amidst the thundering spray of avalanching water. It was going to be a long drop to the valley floor below.
“EEEAAAGGGHHH!” the Shamrogues chorused through the rumbling torrent, their eyes bulging in terror.
“Doomed, doomed!” Gorum yelled. “We’ll be smashed to bits and pieces!”
As he finished calling out, the currach seemed to slowly halt in its fall. It moved out of the waterfall, and gently floated away from the hillside and down into the valley.
“We’re flying…flying!” Sona gasped breathlessly.
Trom, whose arms were wrapped around the base of the mast, opened his eyes and looked in astonishment at Molag and the many other bats who had grabbed hold of the sides of the currach with their sharp claws. On outstretched wings, they conveyed it and its passengers to the river below.
The Shamrogues, sitting upright, could make out the estuary ahead. In the distance, the Irish Sea appeared as a vast expanse of uninterrupted water.
Exhausted, the bats dropped the vessel down with a ‘plop’. Quickly, with the flow of the river, they were on their way again and leaving the waterfall behind.
Soon Gorum had steered the currach out into the wide estuary. The air smelt and tasted different here, the brine-laden wind carrying invisible droplets that teased the nostrils and made the Shamrogues lick their lips.
“Much different than the atmosphere in Coillduff Forest!” Gorum said as he wiped some dampness from his brow.
“And colder too,” Sona added. “But look how far you can see ahead.”
Trom stirred and shakily stood up. He addressed Molag who flitted nearby. “I suppose you will be leaving us now, Your Majesty. Your quick thinking back at the waterfall saved us from certain ruin. We are in your debt forever. Thank you!”
Molag smiled, her tiny sharp teeth looking menacing in the moonlight. “Think nothing of it. After all, what are friends for? Now, we must go in search of food. Our exertions have left us feeling very hungry.”
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