Seven Short Plays Part 33

THE GAOL GATE

_Scene: Outside the gate of Galway Gaol. Two countrywomen, one in a long dark cloak, the other with a shawl over her head, have just come in. It is just before dawn._

_Mary Cahel:_ I am thinking we are come to our journey's end, and that this should be the gate of the gaol.

_Mary Cushin:_ It is certain it could be no other place. There was surely never in the world such a terrible great height of a wall.

_Mary Cahel:_ He that was used to the mountain to be closed up inside of that! What call had he to go moonlighting or to bring himself into danger at all?

_Mary Cushin:_ It is no wonder a man to grow faint-hearted and he shut away from the light. I never would wonder at all at anything he might be driven to say.

_Mary Cahel:_ There were good men were gaoled before him never gave in to anyone at all. It is what I am thinking, Mary, he might not have done what they say.

_Mary Cushin:_ Sure you heard what the neighbours were calling the time their own boys were brought away. "It is Denis Cahel," they were saying, "that informed against them in the gaol."

_Mary Cahel:_ There is nothing that is bad or is wicked but a woman will put it out of her mouth, and she seeing them that belong to her brought away from her sight and her home.

_Mary Cushin:_ Terry Fury's mother was saying it, and Pat Ruane's mother and his wife. They came out calling it after me, "It was Denis swore against them in the gaol!" The sergeant was boasting, they were telling me, the day he came searching Daire-caol, it was he himself got his confession with drink he had brought him in the gaol.

_Mary Cahel:_ They might have done that, the ruffians, and the boy have no blame on him at all. Why should it be cast up against him, and his wits being out of him with drink?

_Mary Cushin:_ If he did give their names up itself, there was maybe no wrong in it at all. Sure it's known to all the village it was Terry that fired the shot.

_Mary Cahel:_ Stop your mouth now and don't be talking. You haven't any sense worth while. Let the sergeant do his own business with no help from the neighbours at all.

_Mary Cushin:_ It was Pat Ruane that tempted them on account of some vengeance of his own. Every creature knows my poor Denis never handled a gun in his life.

_Mary Cahel:_ (_Taking from under her cloak a long blue envelope._) I wish we could know what is in the letter they are after sending us through the post. Isn't it a great pity for the two of us to be without learning at all?

_Mary Cushin:_ There are some of the neighbours have learning, and you bade me not bring it anear them. It would maybe have told us what way he is or what time he will be quitting the gaol.

_Mary Cahel:_ There is wonder on me, Mary Cushin, that you would not be content with what I say. It might be they put down in the letter that Denis informed on the rest.

_Mary Cushin:_ I suppose it is all we have to do so, to stop here for the opening of the door. It's a terrible long road from Slieve Echtge we were travelling the whole of the night.

_Mary Cahel:_ There was no other thing for us to do but to come and to give him a warning. What way would he be facing the neighbours, and he to come back to Daire-caol?

_Mary Cushin:_ It is likely they will let him go free, Mary, before many days will be out. What call have they to be keeping him? It is certain they promised him his life.

_Mary Cahel:_ If they promised him his life, Mary Cushin, he must live it in some other place. Let him never see Daire-caol again, or Daroda or Druimdarod.

_Mary Cushin:_ O, Mary, what place will we bring him to, and we driven from the place that we know? What person that is sent among strangers can have one day's comfort on earth?

_Mary Cahel:_ It is only among strangers, I am thinking, he could be hiding his story at all. It is best for him to go to America, where the people are as thick as gra.s.s.

_Mary Cushin:_ What way could he go to America and he having no means in his hand? There's himself and myself to make the voyage and the little one-een at home.

_Mary Cahel:_ I would sooner to sell the holding than to ask for the price paid for blood. There'll be money enough for the two of you to settle your debts and to go.

_Mary Cushin:_ And what would yourself be doing and we to go over the sea? It is not among the neighbours you would wish to be ending your days.

_Mary Cahel:_ I am thinking there is no one would know me in the workhouse at Oughterard. I wonder could I go in there, and I not to give them my name?

_Mary Cushin:_ Ah, don't be talking foolishness. What way could I bring the child? Sure he's hardly out of the cradle; he'd be lost out there in the States.

_Mary Cahel:_ I could bring him into the workhouse, I to give him some other name. You could send for him when you'd be settled or have some place of your own.

_Mary Cushin:_ It is very cold at the dawn. It is time for them open the door. I wish I had brought a potato or a bit of a cake or of bread.

_Mary Cahel:_ I'm in dread of it being opened and not knowing what will we hear. The night that Denis was taken he had a great cold and a cough.

_Mary Cushin:_ I think I hear some person coming. There's a sound like the rattling of keys. G.o.d and His Mother protect us! I'm in dread of being found here at all!

(_The gate is opened, and the Gatekeeper is seen with a lantern in his hand._)

_Gatekeeper:_ What are you doing here, women? It's no place to be spending the night time.

_Mary Cahel:_ It is to speak with my son I am asking, that is gaoled these eight weeks and a day.

_Gatekeeper:_ If you have no order to visit him it's as good for you go away home.

_Mary Cahel:_ I got this letter ere yesterday. It might be it is giving me leave.

_Gatekeeper:_ If that's so he should be under the doctor, or in the hospital ward.

_Mary Cahel:_ It's no wonder if he's down with the hardship, for he had a great cough and a cold.

_Gatekeeper:_ Give me here the letter to read it. Sure it never was opened at all.

_Mary Cahel:_ Myself and this woman have no learning. We were loth to trust any other one.

_Gatekeeper:_ It was posted in Galway the twentieth, and this is the last of the month.

_Mary Cahel:_ We never thought to call at the post office. It was chance brought it to us in the end.

_Gatekeeper:_ (_Having read letter._) You poor unfortunate women, don't you know Denis Cahel is dead? You'd a right to come this time yesterday if you wished any last word at all.

_Mary Cahel:_ (_Kneeling down._) G.o.d and His Mother protect us and have mercy on Denis's soul!

_Mary Cushin:_ What is the man after saying? Sure it cannot be Denis is dead?

_Gatekeeper:_ Dead since the dawn of yesterday, and another man now in his cell. I'll go see who has charge of his clothing if you're wanting to bring it away.

(_He goes in. The dawn has begun to break._)

_Mary Cahel:_ There is lasting kindness in Heaven when no kindness is found upon earth. There will surely be mercy found for him, and not the hard judgment of men! But my boy that was best in the world, that never rose a hair of my head, to have died with his name under blemish, and left a great shame on his child! Better for him have killed the whole world than to give any witness at all! Have you no word to say, Mary Cushin? Am I left here to keen him alone?