At Swim, Two Boys Part 19

Empress of India, pray for us.

"Brother! I say, Brother Polycarp! No, this way, Brother!"

Somebody calling his name. How bright it was. He had not expected such light. Such light he could not bide and he trembled for the dark once more.

"Brother Polycarp! Will you watch out for yourself!"

Calling him back. But he was going now, out into the light. The mighty roar of trumpets greeted him. A screech as if the gates of h.e.l.l had opened. The gates crashed against him closed and he was floating, floating in the light, in the blue and stelliferous bright.

Her face was just as he always had known it would be, n.o.ble and wise and pained with care. He closed his eyes. "Mater," he said. "Mater misericordiae."

Mr. Mack was already beside him. "Brother Polycarp, are you hit?"

"Is he all right?" a woman's voice called.

"There's no blood," said Mr. Mack. "I think 'tis only bruises. Are you current at all there, Brother? He's dazed yet."

The woman climbed down from the motor-car. "Simply stepped in front," she was saying. "He gave no sign."

"Don't trouble yourself, mam. He was clearly in the wrong. Is it Madame MacMurrough it is?"

"Is there anything broken?"

"Not at all. A few scratches is all. You'll know me, Madame MacMurrough. I'm the man with the stockings."

"Stockings? Is there a constable about?"

"Sure there's never a constable when you wants one, mam. Flap-doodlers is all they are."

The brother let out a groan and Eveline said, "Don't stand there wittering, man. Take his shoulders while I take his legs. We must get this fellow to a hospital."

"In your motor-car, mam?"

"Hurry now."

While they bundled the brother to the back seat, Mr. Mack said, "Yes, stockings for the troops at the Front. I knits them at home, then you boxes them off. I was thinking of sending the boy up later for I have another parcel made up to go."

She looked at him slant-eyed, then shook her head. The brother moaned and she bent down. "Don't fret. You'll be safe soon."

Mr. Mack saw the brother's eyes open. There was disbelief there and his fingers trembled to touch the lady's face.

"My poor man," she said and held his hand. An incomparable beat.i.tude formed on his yellow smile. "What does he say?"

"I can't quite catch the wind of it."

"Is it Latin?"

"I have it," said Mr. Mack. "The Mater. 'Tis a hospital away in Dublin."

"There's no time for that. We must try for St. Michael's."

Some young gurriers had gathered and Mr. Mack had the honor of scooting them clear of the coachwork. Others jumped up and down to glimpse the injured party. "Is there bleeding, mister?" they wanted to know. "Is the brother kilt at all?" Mr. Mack appropriated his handkerchief for a screen against their uncouth snitches. Mr. Mack appropriated his handkerchief for a screen against their uncouth snitches.

Eveline loosened the brother's collar. His eyes had closed again but she whispered in his ear, "Hold still now." To Mr. Mack she said, "You had better sit with him. Try and make him comfortable." To Mr. Mack she said, "You had better sit with him. Try and make him comfortable."

Mr. Mack would be delighted to a.s.sist in any way he could, and he hadn't his seat hardly taken before the vehicle juddered into motion. He held the brother's head in his lap. "I must say, Madame MacMurrough, it is a great delight to be in a motor-car. It is a Vauxhall design, I believe. A Prince Henry." She seemed not to hear him over the wind, so more loudly he said, "I was in a doctor's runabout once. This was after I a.s.sisted to change the wheel." She seemed not to hear him over the wind, so more loudly he said, "I was in a doctor's runabout once. This was after I a.s.sisted to change the wheel."

"Yes."

"But this is a Prince Henry, I do believe. It is a Vauxhall manufacture."

He leant his elbow on the furled hood. His fingers patted the trim. He desisted for fear of smudges and he tried once more with the lady in front.

"I do hear the Duke of Westminster has had his many Rolls-Royces armor-plated." No response. "The Army Motor Reserve," he explained. "For to harry the Uhlans." No response. "The Army Motor Reserve," he explained. "For to harry the Uhlans."

But he had no luck in this wind, so he sat back in the leathery den and checked on Brother Polycarp instead. Dazed is right. Oiled to the eyes if you go to that of it. Atrocious smell of drink off him. I had no notion he was so far gone. I hope now my Jim won't be getting any bad habits. You'd think they'd be safe in the college. But the demon drink, it has the key to every door.

It was the new father had told him that. Fierce down that father has on the brother. Can understand for why now. He was in the right of it too: Polycarp is not an Irish name. Mind, that father is fierce all ways. I had no notion it was Erse he was talking. Dee's mirror git. To which the correct reply is Dee's mirror git is Patrick.

But small the harm in Erse and I'll be happy for Jim to take cla.s.ses. So long as it wouldn't interfere with the Latin.

"I must say, Madame MacMurrough, I have always wanted to congratulate you on the sterling work you do put in for the war effort."

"What?" called Eveline over the wind.

He leant forward, holding on to his hat, and shouted, "The stockings you do collect."

"What about them?"

"Well done, I wanted to say."

"Look here, there's a rug in the box. See if you can't wrap it about him." She checked over her shoulder. "You say he's a brother?" She checked over her shoulder. "You say he's a brother?"

"From the Presentation College, mam." He waited a moment, then said, "He takes my son for Latin." He waited a moment, then said, "He takes my son for Latin."

"You have a son there?"

"I do indeed. Latin and music. He gives a flute band out of hours." The engine faltered and Mr. Mack leant forward again. "Are we doing all right?" The engine faltered and Mr. Mack leant forward again. "Are we doing all right?"

"An obstruction in the road. Gone now."

"As a matter of fact, the new father is after appointing me drill sergeant. I'm to teach the boys marching."

"You?"

"Oh, murder above!"

"What is it?"

"I've only now recollected. If the brother's for the sick-ward we'll have no band at all. Oh, holy murder above."

Silent amid the roaring world, Eveline wove through the trams and jarveys and the May processions of girls and boys. At the People's Park she swerved to the right, then left along the seafront. The wind confused the groans of her pa.s.sengers while the road ahead showed clear and sure.

Doyler had been right: the rain came in the evening, and it was still pouring when Jim pushed with the shop bike up Ballygihen hill. The shiny asphalt, the mop of trees, the chimney teeth with a chip off the middle, the squeaks of the wheels which seemed to complain of piles and the falling damps, the mudguard spitting wet: the world conspired with his thoughts and everywhere he looked was Doyler's presence. Ahead lay Killiney Hill, its obelisk stark against the last cloudy light.

He turned under the arch into Ballygihen Avenue, then pushed against the tradesmen's gate to Ballygihen House.

Tyre-grooves in the gravel, but no sign of any motor. A light showed in a bedroom and he saw a figure at the window looking out on the bay. There was an area with a steps down and another light showed there. He propped the bike at the railings, took the parcel in its waxed canvas, went down to the kitchen door.

It was a man who answered and he had not expected this. He was in his shirtsleeves but still there was an air of quality about him. "I've come with the stockings," said Jim.

The man lifted an eyebrow in what Jim, an authority now, identified for superciliousness. "Stockings?"

"They're for Madame MacMurrough."

"Is my aunt in need of stockings?"

Jim felt the reddening of his cheeks. "They're comforts for the troops. My father sent me with them."

The man had an easy and leisured manner that unsettled Jim, the way his eyes felt free to ramble over him. He said, "Best bring them in so." But he didn't move from the doorway and Jim had to squeeze past. In the jar he brushed his trousers inadvertently by the man's hand and he felt the breath go puff out of his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said. But he didn't move from the doorway and Jim had to squeeze past. In the jar he brushed his trousers inadvertently by the man's hand and he felt the breath go puff out of his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said.

The man only laughed.

Jim waited with his back to the door, staring at the table. "Is Nancy here?"

"I believe it's her evening with her relative. Were you looking for her?"

He shook his head. "Will I put the stockings down?"

"On the table, I suppose. Someone will see to it tomorrow."

There was a tray with cold meats on the table with two bottles of double-X stout. Still the man's eyes upon him when he glanced round.

On the flag floor a red thing showed. Jim frowned. He blinked and it was still there. Still shining on the flags, a Red Hand badge.

The man saw what had caught his attention and smartly he picked it up. He fiddled with it in his hands. "Do you need a receipt? Am I required to sign anything?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is there something else?"

"No, that's all."

"I'll tell my aunt they arrived safely."

Charming, thought MacMurrough as the boy fled past, a streak of wet vermilion that vanished up the steps. He heard the sc.r.a.pe of bicycle wheels on the gravel, then closed the door against the night.

He collected the tray and ascended the backstairs, extinguishing lights as he went. "A boy about stockings," he said when he came to the bedroom. "Now, there's a comfort for the troops."

Doyler turned from the window. "If ever you lays a hand on that one you're dead."

MacMurrough grinned and tossed him his badge. "I believe you may have mislaid this. Careless, very."

"Dead meat, you got that?"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

MacMurrough woke at the peep of day with the boy's body beside him. He watched it form in the greying light while the voices came in his head. s.c.r.o.t.es as usual remained above the fray but d.i.c.k and the chaplain went at it like cats.

-There's an eyeful for you, d.i.c.k was saying. A sore sight for hornified eyes.

-Direct not the eyes at naked flesh, the chaplain admonished. The horned beast himself is among us.

-h.o.r.n.y beast is right.

-Is there no conscience in this house of h.e.l.l?

-A standing d.i.c.k, sir, hath no conscience.

A kinder voice intervened, Nanny Tremble, to calm the crossness. Now men, leave off the argufying, she said. We have a guest staying and the poor boy is at his slumbers yet. Little lamb, he must be worn away.

But d.i.c.k was incorrigible. He'll be s.h.a.gged away soon enough, I warrant.

The chaplain embarked on his h.e.l.lfire-jaw and sodom-talk, and we will all go down for habitual degenerates! we will all go down for habitual degenerates! And Nanny Tremble said, Dear dear. Well, I never. And Nanny Tremble said, Dear dear. Well, I never.

Lazily MacMurrough thought to catch s.c.r.o.t.es's attention. s.c.r.o.t.es? Are you there, s.c.r.o.t.es? But the old shade was not easily conjured. Often the most he would rouse was a snort, which might be of contempt, might be of exasperation. At times like this, MacMurrough conceived a fusty don in a turret room, bent upon some musty text, absentmindedly cold, huffing every now and then and scowling over the affray below. A crusty old friend, a ghost in the attic.

s.c.r.o.t.es? Nothing.

MacMurrough turned to his sleeping mate. The boy lay with his back to him, his head steeply inclined, so that his body culminated in the k.n.o.bbly top of his spine. The k.n.o.b there recalled to MacMurrough the apple in the boy's throat, which had bobbed up and down last evening. Up and down it had bobbed as he took his turn on MacMurrough's stand. Uncommonly decent of him, really, for MacMurrough had not asked or expected it. Just at one point, the boy had pushed him away and gone down himself between MacMurrough's legs. There was a speculative look on his face while he contemplated his purpose. He closed his eyes and brought the shaft to his lips, but it took a time to appreciate the lips would better be opened.

Not a perfect pleasure because MacMurrough had a suspicion of authority undermined. The boy flushed when he opened his eyes and saw he was watched, as though to have forgotten there was company present. And that was thoughtful of him. But proportion was only duely returned when MacMurrough pressed his hand on the boy's head and forced his measure upon him.