Kilgorman Part 4

Mr Gorman looked at me, and a thought seemed to strike him.

"Come here!" said he, beckoning me to him.

Once again he looked hard in my face, and I looked hard back.

"So you are Barry?" he demanded.

"I am," said I.

"And you'd like to be a sailor?"

"No," I retorted. It was a lie, but I would be under no favour to his honour.

His honour grunted, and talked in a low voice to my father, who presently said to me,--

"Take the turnips to Joe Callan's, in Derry, on the Ship Quay. Wait till dark before you go into the city. Tell him there's more where these came from."

"Is it guns you mane?" said I.

"Hold your tongue, you limb of darkness," growled my father. "It's turnips. If any one asks you, mind you know nothing, and never heard of his honour in your life."

By which I understood this was a very secret errand, and like enough to land me in Derry Jail before all was done. Had I not been impatient to see my father and his honour away to Fanad, I think I should have made excuses. But I durst not say another word, and with a heavy heart clambered to the top of the turnips and started on my long journey.

Before I had pa.s.sed the hill I could see the white sail of our little boat dancing through the broken water of the lough, and knew that my father and Mr Gorman were on their way to set my mother's mind at rest.

In the midst of my trouble and ill-humour I smiled to think what a poor figure his honour would have cut trying to make Fanad in that wind. My father could sail in the teeth of anything, and some day folk would be able to say the same of his son Barry.

It was a long, desolate drive over stony hills and roads whose ruts swallowed half my wheels, with now and then a waste of bog to cross, and now and then a stream to ford. For hours I met not a soul nor saw a sign of life except the cattle huddling on the hillside, or the smoke of some far-away cabin.

My mare was a patient, leisurely beast, with no notion of reaching the city before her time, and no willingness to exchange her sedate jog for all the whipping or "shooing" in Ireland.

Presently, as it came to the afternoon, I left the mountain road and came on to the country road from Fahan to Derry. Here I met more company; but no one heeded me much, especially when it was seen that my turnips were a poor sort, and that he who had charge of them was but a slip of a boy, with not a word to say to any one.

"Are you for Derry?" one woman asked as she overtook me on the road.

"So you may say," said I, hoping that would be the end of her.

But she carried a bundle, and was not to be put aside so easily.

"I'll just take a lift with you," said she.

But I jogged on without a word.

"Arrah, will you stop till I get up? Is it deaf ye are?" said she.

"'Deed I am," said I, whipping my beast.

It went to my heart to play the churl to a woman, but I durst not let her up on the turnips, where perhaps a chance kick of her feet might betray the ugly guns beneath.

I was sorry afterwards I did not yield to my better instincts, for the woman was known in these parts, and with her perched beside me no one would have looked twice at me or my cart.

As it was, when I had shaken her off, and left her rating me loudly till I was out of sight, I pa.s.sed one or two folk who, but that it was growing dusk, might have caused me trouble. One was a clergyman, who hailed me and asked did not I think my beast would be the better of a rest, and that, for turnips, my load seemed a heavy one, and so forth.

To ease him, I was forced to halt at the next village, to give the poor beast a feed and a rest. Here two soldiers came up and demanded where I came from.

"From Fahan," said I, naming the town I had lately pa.s.sed.

"Whose turnips are these?"

"Mister Gallagher's," said I.

They seemed inclined to be more curious; but as good luck would have it, the clergyman came up just then and spoke to me in a friendly way as he pa.s.sed, for he was glad to see me merciful to my beast.

And the soldiers, when they saw me acquainted with so reverend a gentleman, took for granted I was on a harmless errand, and went further on to inquire for the miscreant they were in search of.

The fellow of the yard where I fed my horse laughed as he watched me mount up on to my turnips.

"Faith, them's the boys to smell a rat. It's guns they're looking for; as if they'd travel by daylight on the highroad."

"I'm told a great many arms are being smuggled into the country," said the clergyman.

"To be sure," replied the man; "but if they get this length it's by the hill-roads and after dark. Why, I'll go bail they would have looked for guns under this gossoon's turnips if your reverence hadn't known him."

It seemed to me time to drive on, and with a salute to his reverence I touched up my horse smartly, and left these two to finish their talk without me.

By this time it was nearly dark, so that I had less trouble from pa.s.sers-by. My beast, despite her meal, showed no signs of haste, and I was forced to lie patiently on the top of my load, waiting her pleasure to land me in Derry.

The clock was tolling ten as I came on to the Ship Quay, and tired enough I was with my long day's drive. Yet I was a little proud to have come to my journey's end safely, albeit that story I had told about Fahan stuck in my conscience.

I had been once before with my father to Joe Callan's, who kept a store of all sorts of goods, and was one of the best-known farmers' tradesmen in the city. It was some time before I could arouse him and bring him down to let me in. And while I waited, rousing the echoes, I was very nearly being wrecked in port, for a watchman came up and demanded what I wanted disturbing the peace of the city at that hour.

When I explained that I had brought Mr Callan a load of turnips, he wanted to know where they came from, and why they should arrive so late.

"The roads were bad between this and Fahan," said I.

To my alarm he took up a turnip in his hand and put it to his nose.

"I'm thinking Joe Callan's no judge of a turnip," said he, "if this is what suits him. Maybe that's why you're so anxious to get them in after dark. He'll not wake out of his sleep for the like of these, so you may just shoot them in a heap at his door, and they'll be safe enough till the morning."

My jaw dropped when he proposed this and made ready to lend me a hand.

"Begging your honour's pardon," said I, "I was to spake to Mister Callan about the turnips."

"Sure, I can tell him that. Let the man sleep."

"But the horse has been on the road all day," said I.

The watchman p.r.i.c.ked his ears.

"All day, and only came from Fahan?" said he.