Kilpara (18 page)

“
No, no,” I said quickly. “He
hasn’t bothered me. I’m here on his behalf. It appears he and his
family may run out of food rations before we reach
land.”

“
Happens all the time,” the captain
said. “Kineely ought to fare better than most. Fought in the war
between the States, so he did. Those lads saw no food plenty o’
times. Saved his money, I reckon, to buy a few acres o’ bogland in
Ireland. Won’t let go o’ a penny, these stubborn paupers. They’ll
go hungry first. No sense at all.”

“
What regiment?” I
asked.

“
Regiment?” the captain repeated,
puzzled.

“
You said he fought in the war.
What regiment?”

The captain took a swallow from his glass
before answering. “How should I know? He blabs about his friends
getting killed at Antietam and Fredericksburg. The 69th something
or other.”

“
The New York 69th?”

“
Don't know. Don’t matter anyhow.
Been better off, maybe, if he’d gotten killed with the rest of them
vagrants.” He laughed maliciously. “I hate delivering dead bodies
to the authorities. It’s not good for business, you see. It’s worse
having to throw them overboard. Has to be done so they don’t get
the stench.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Did that a lot
when we transported them Irish in the famine years when they got
cholera and died—had to stop the disease spreading. Death reeks.
Not exactly a deserving burial for humans, but the priests prayed
over them.”

“
My brother served in the New York
69th,” I said. “He was killed.”

“
My condolences.” The captain
turned away disinterested and refreshed his drink.

“
Perhaps Mr.—er—Kineely could work
in exchange for food,” I offered.

“
I have a full crew and don’t need
any more help.”

“
Can you spare some food scraps
then?”

“
If I do that for one, I'll have to
do it for all them others.” The captain took a gulp of his drink.
“We’ve got strict orders from The Company. No money, no food. Maybe
it’s not charitable-like, but that’s what The Company says, and
what The Company says, goes. This is a business, not a relief
effort. I’m getting close to retirement and I’m depending on that
pension. I ain’t gonna risk it for no bunch o’ nomads.”

I could see I was getting nowhere. I surprised
myself by saying, “Give the fiddler food. I’ll pay for it, and I
want the doctor to look at the youngest child.”

The captain sat speechless for a moment or
two.

“
What d’you care about what happens
to the fiddler?” he asked finally. “If he and his family die,
there’ll be dozens more like them to take their place. Them Irish
breed like rats.”

“
Just do it,” I said, disgust
waving over me.

I started toward the door when the captain
said jeeringly, “Should I tell him who his benefactor
is?”

I didn’t turn around but spoke over my
shoulder.

“
No, tell him the purser brought
his predicament to your attention and this is a form of payment for
entertaining the passengers.”

The captain laughed contemptuously behind my
back. “More’s the fool if the fiddler’d believe that. But he’ll
take the food. Have no doubt about that.”

That evening I stood on deck as the music
below sounded more exuberant than ever. Trista joined me. “Your
mother is asleep,” she said. “The sea air tires her out.” She
leaned over the deck. “They’re in rare form tonight. They’ll get
rowdier the closer we get to land.” She was smiling and there was
such brightness about her eyes that I couldn’t resist touching her
face. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead she took my hand
and said, “Com' on, let’s join in.”

The fiddler had lost the blank stare of
earlier; his eyes were now alight with happiness. His newfound
energy showed in his music. His wife stood rocking the youngest
child in a dry blanket. The older one danced among the grownups. A
woman took his hand instructing him, “This way Hughie, this way.”
The boy smiled and followed her directions. He looked over at his
mother and sick baby brother. “Look at me, Mammy,” he said. “Show
Ruairi.”

His mother laughed and turned the baby in the
direction of his brother.

“
Look Ruairi,” she said. “Look at
Hughie.”

As before, Trista moved quickly while I tried
to keep up with her. Before long, the man who had danced with her
previously got her attention. He swung her into a group and they
danced the Haymaker’s Jig.

I slipped away quietly from the onlookers to
the upper deck and listened to the music strain upwards. After a
while Trista joined me.

“
You left,” she accused.

“
Yes.”

Strands of hair had come lose and her face was
flushed from exertion. I touched a strand of loose hair and let it
slip between my fingers, then began stroking her neck. Trista
gently removed my hand and looked at me intently.

“
I can’t give myself to you,
Ellis,” she said softly. “You’ve not got nary the feeling for me
that you have for that horse of yours.” I was surprised by her
words and moved back slightly. She touched my cheek and smiled
shyly. “I'm flattered that you find me attractive. You intimidate
me. You’re so rich, so fine. I’m not your people. Your kind lives
in mansions with servants, my kind lives in hovels and depends on
each other for whatever happiness we make for
ourselves.”

She dropped her eyes. “You might desire the
likes of me. Might even coerce me into your bed. But you’ll never
love me.”

“
I may never love any woman. I’m
fond of you, won’t that do?”

“
It’s not the same. Someday you’ll
meet the one you’ll have feelings for—then you’ll know the
difference.”

She kissed me firmly on the lips. “We’ll
always be friends, Ellis O’Donovan. But we can’t be lovers unless
you say you love me.”

I had lied to many women, even to Astelle in
the heat of passion. I wanted Trista, enough to say the appropriate
words. But they would be empty and she would know it.

In the days that followed, seagulls hovered
above the ship. Their numbers increased as passengers threw tidbits
of food into the water. This sight was followed by tree limbs
floating on top of the water. On the morning the lighthouse was
spotted with its blinking beacon, hoorays went up from the crew and
passengers. People stood on deck, watching emerging shapes and
buildings on the coast of Ireland grow larger and more distinct.
When the pilot boats left the mainland to come out to meet us,
Trista ran excitedly to mother and cried, “We’re here Mrs.
O’Donovan, we’re here.”

Mother smiled and joined her hands in
thanksgiving.

The ship moved slowly into Galway Harbor and
lurched to a halt, creaking and moaning against the long stone
pier. Deckhands jumped ashore to assist the ground crew that
struggled to wrap heavy ropes around stone pylons and secure the
ship. We moved toward the exit, and in the foreground I saw
multi-colored buildings hugging the bay with green fields
stretching out beyond. The seaport appeared small, the landscape
desolate compared to harbor activities in Hudson Bay with its
pronounced tall industrial buildings in the background. Even so,
the sight of land and habitation was welcome after weeks at
sea.

When our turn came to descend the gangplank,
deckhands came forward to assist Mother in her wheelchair. At the
bottom, we searched for Sadie Burke among the happy faces ready to
welcome the sea-worn travelers.

She appeared out of the crowd, a small woman
forming an impressive figure. She moved erect, hands muffled inside
wide sleeves and tucked under her bosom. A long rosary with large
beads and a heavy cross dangled like a sash from the waist of her
black habit. Her face was soft despite her age, and her hair lay
hidden beneath her headdress. A few light brown strands tinged with
gray had found their way out from under the rim.

She bent down close to Mother’s face, kissed
her cheek then stroked it tenderly. Her hands found Mother’s and
she clasped them tightly. “Ann, dear Ann,” she said in a voice that
matched the tenderness in her eyes. “It’s been so long—so many
years.”

“
Sadie...” was all Mother could
say, her voice trembling.

“
It’s all right, Ann dear.” Aunt
Sadie squeezed Mother’s hands. “I’m here. I’ll look after
you.”

Drawing her eyes away from Mother, she turned
to Trista and me. “Thank you, Trista,” she said. “You’ve done a
wonderful job looking after my sister.”

Trista smiled. “My pleasure, Mother Superior.”
It was obvious the nun’s praise meant a lot.

Aunt Sadie looked at me, her smile broadening.
I could almost feel her heart swell with love and emotion. “You’re
Ellis.” She held out her arms and embraced me. Then she stood back
and appraised my face with an intense gaze. “We meet at last. Image
of your mother, so you are. Only like your father around the
mouth—and the jaw. Ah yes, I remember that jaw.” She touched my
cheek. “Welcome to your homeland. I received a letter from Dan only
yesterday that said you were bringing along a er—horse—”

“
Brazonhead,” I said. “A
present.”

“
Yes, right, Brazonhead. He’ll be
taken straight away to Saint Bridget’s.”

“
He’s our gift to you—” I faltered,
unsure how to proceed. “He was Father's most prized
thoroughbred.”

“
Yes, how thoughtful,” Aunt Sadie
said, her puzzled eyes trying to grasp the significance of bringing
Brazonhead to Ireland. It was obvious she wasn't sure how to treat
this unusual gift. “That's very nice, very thoughtful indeed. He'll
be well cared for at Saint Bridget’s and Mercy Hospital. You'll
ride him, of course, to make sure he gets exercised.” Her voice
turned apologetic. “I'm afraid we don’t have riding horses at St.
Bridget's, and coming from America, I know you must love to ride.
You and er—Brazonhead can explore the countryside. Get to know your
home.”

Taking hold of Mother's hands again she said,
“The convent and hospital are not far from here, just on the other
side of town. But we won’t risk the bumpy roads for a day or two.
Not until you get your land legs back. Meanwhile I’ve arranged for
accommodation at the Traveler’s Inn.”

She turned to a couple of men and several
novices she had brought along and briskly gave orders. Mother’s
face began to visibly relax in her sister’s presence. They had not
seen each other in many years, yet time and distance had melted
away the moment they were together again.

The manager at the Traveler’s Inn showed us to
our rooms and placed a couple of his best workers at Aunt Sadie’s
disposal. My room appeared large after the tight quarters on the
ship. The wallpaper was dated but the mattress on the heavy bed was
firm and the sheets and blankets were scented. Acrid-smelling dark
brown briquettes burned in the fireplace giving off blue-orange
flames.

While Aunt Sadie and Trista settled Mother in
her room, I went outside and walked around. Seagulls flew in
circles ever watchful for scraps of food. A soft breeze gently
swayed the luscious green grass, back and forth. I continued down
to the pebbled beach and watched as waves rolled ashore and wiped
the sand clean. I felt myself an outsider on this island three
thousand miles away from home.

There was a saloon in the hotel and for want
of something better to do, I went inside and ordered a drink. Idly,
I watched two men dressed in dark tweed suits, one tall and thin
with a curled mustache, the other short and portly. They left the
Tea Room that was visible through open glass doors and strolled,
canes swinging, toward the bar. Several cultured ladies dressed in
bright summer dresses and wide-brimmed hats remained behind, seated
around a table, drinking tea from porcelain cups and snacking on
dainty sandwiches and petit feurs from dollied tiers. The men
leaned against the bar facing each other within earshot of where I
sat.

“
Where do you suppose Arthur got
this horse—this—Pandora is it?” the tall thin man asked. “More
importantly, how could he afford her? Everyone knows his finances
are in dreadful shape these days.”

“
I heard he had a run of good luck
in a card game,” the short portly man said. “He's insisting the
mare is quite a runner, hopes to make back some of his fortune in
tomorrow’s race.”

The tall thin man frowned. “For that horse to
show up, now of all times. Damndest thing.”

“
Arthur Purcenell’s a braggart,”
the short portly man responded with a laugh. “We’ll know soon
enough if Pandora is as good as he says.”

The tall thin man nodded his agreement, but
persisted, “For him to get that horse now. Just when I had him
right where I wanted him.”

“
I shouldn't worry too much. It's
ridiculous to think his mare can beat Black Knight.” The short
portly man gulped his drink and his companion did likewise. They
left the bar and sauntered back to the Tea Room.

I watched them take their seats among the
women. Something amusing must have been said for they all laughed.
The group departed shortly afterward. I had just arrived in Ireland
and already I had heard Purcenell’s dreaded name, the very name
that had haunted my parents all their lives and shaped their
destiny.