The Manxman Part 43

"Lave the gentleman alone, Mr. Quilliam. He knows his own business best."

"So do you, Mr. Collecting Box," said Black Tom. "But your head's as empty as a mollag, and as full of wind as well. It's a regular ould human mollag you are, anyway, floating other people's nets and taking all that's coming to them."

They were ash.o.r.e by this time; one of the quay porters was putting the trunk into the gig, and Caesar was removing the horse-cloth and the nose-bag.

"Get up, Mr. Peter, and don't listen to him," said Caesar. "If my industry and integrity have been blessed with increase under Providence----"

"Lave Providence out of it, you grasping ould Ebenezer, Zachariah, Amen," bawled Black Tom.

"You've been flying in the face of Providence all your life, Tom," said Caesar, taking his seat beside Pete.

"You haven't though, you miser," said Black Tom; "you'd sell your soul for sixpence, and you'd raffle your ugly ould body if you could get anybody to take tickets."

"Go home, Thomas," said Caesar, twiddling the reins, "go home and try for the future to be a better man."

But that was too much for Black Tom. "Better man, is it? Come down on the quay and up with your fiss, and I'll show you which of us is the better man."

A moment later Caesar and Pete were rattling over the cobbles of the market-place, with the dog racing behind. Pete was full of questions.

"And how's yourself, Mr. Cregeen?"

"I'm in, sir, I'm in, sir, praise the Lord."

"And Grannie?"

"Like myself, sir, not getting a dale younger, but caring little for spiritual things, though."

"Going west, is she, poor ould angel? There ought to be a good piece of daylight at her yet, for all. And--and Nancy Joe?"

"A happy sinner still," said Caesar. "I suppose, sir, you'd be making good money out yonder now? We were hearing the like, anyway."

"Money!" said Pete. "Well, yes. Enough to keep off the divil and the coroner. But how's--how's----"

"There now! For life, eh?" said Caesar.

"Yes, for life; but that's nothing," said Pete; "how's----"

"Wonderful!" cried Caesar; "five years too! Boy veen, the light was nearly took out of my eyes when I saw you."

"But Kate? How's Kate? How's the girl, herself?" said Pete nervously.

"Smart uncommon," said Caesar.

"G.o.d bless her!" cried Pete, with a shout that was heard across the street.

"We'll pick her up at Crellin's, it's like," said Caesar.

"What? Crellin's round the corner--Crellin the draper's I Woa! Let me down! The mare's tired, father;" and Pete was over the wheel at a bound.

He came out of the shop saying Kate had left word that her father was not to wait for her--she would perhaps be home before him. Amid a crowd of the "mob beg" children of the streets, to whom he showered coppers to be scrambled for, Pete got up again to Caesar's side, and they set off for Sulby. The wind had risen suddenly, and was hooting down the narrow streets coming up from the harbour.

"And Philip? How's Philip?" shouted Pete.

"Mr. Christian? Well and hearty, and doing wonders, sir."

"I knew it," cried Pete, with a resounding laugh.

"Going like a flood, and sweeping everything before him," said Caesar.

"The rising day with him, is it?" said Pete. "I always said he'd be the first man in the island, and he's not going to deceave me neither."

"The young man's been over putting a sight on us times and times--he was up at my Melliah only a week come Wednesday," said Caesar.

"Man alive!" cried Pete; "him and me are same as brothers."

"Then it wasn't true what they were writing in the letter, sir--that your black boys left you for dead?"

"They did that, bad luck to them," said Pete; "but I was thinking it no sin to disappoint them, though."

"Well, well! lying began with the world, and with the world it will end," said Caesar.

As they pa.s.sed Ballywhaine, Pete shouted into Caesar's ear, above the wind that was roaring in the trees, and scattering the ripening leaves in clouds, "And how's Dross?"

"That wastrel? Aw, tearing away, tearing away," said Caesar.

"Floating on the top of the tide, is he?" shouted Pete.

"Maybe so, but the devil is fishing where yonder fellow's swimming,"

answered Caesar.

"And the ould man--the Ballawhaine--still above the sod?" bawled Pete behind his hand.

"Yes, but failing, failing, failing," shouted Caesar. "The world's getting too heavy for the man. Debts here, and debts there, and debts everywhere."

"Not much water in the harbour then, eh?" cried Pete.

"No, but down on the rocks already, if it's only myself that knows it,"

shouted Caesar.

When they had turned the Sulby Bridge, and come in sight of "The Manx Fairy," Pete's excitement grew wild, and he leaped up from his seat and shouted above the wind like a man possessed.

"My gough, the very place! You've been thatching, though--yes, you have.

The street! Holy sailor, there it is! Brownie at you still? Her heifer, is it? Get up, Molly! A taste of the whip'll do the mare no harm, sir.

My sakes, here's ould Flora hobbling out to meet us. Got the rheumatics, has she? Set me down, Caesar. Here we are, man. Lord alive, the smell of the cowhouse. That warm and damp, it's grand! What, don't you know me, Flo? Got your temper still, if you've lost your teeth? My sakes, the haggard! The same spot again! It's turf they're burning inside! And, my gracious, that's herrings roasting in their brine! Where's Grannie, though? Let's put a sight in, Caesar. Well, well, aw well, aw well!"

Thus Pete came home, laughing, shouting, bawling, and bellowing above the tumult of the wind, which had risen by this time to the strength of a gale.

"Mother," cried Caesar, going in at the porch, "gentleman here from foreign parts to put a word on you."