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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ed0154 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50324 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50324) diff --git a/old/50324-8.txt b/old/50324-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1b2d002..0000000 --- a/old/50324-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10489 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Children of the Dead End, by Patrick MacGill - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Children of the Dead End - The Autobiography of an Irish Navvy - -Author: Patrick MacGill - -Release Date: October 27, 2015 [EBook #50324] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END - -THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN IRISH NAVVY - -BY -PATRICK MACGILL - -[Illustration: Logo] - -NEW YORK - -E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY -681 Fifth Avenue - - -THE ANCHOR PRESS, LTD., TIPTREE, ESSEX, ENGLAND. - - - - -FOREWORD - - -"I wish the Kinlochleven navvies had been thrown into the loch. They -would fain turn the Highlands into a cinderheap," said the late Andrew -Lang, writing to me a few months before his death. - -In the following pages I have endeavoured to tell of the navvy; the life -he leads, the dangers he dares, and the death he often dies. Most of my -story is autobiographical. Moleskin Joe and Carroty Dan are true to -life; they live now, and for all I know to the contrary may be met with -on some precarious job, in some evil-smelling model lodging-house, or, -as suits these gipsies of labour, on the open road. Norah Ryan's painful -story shows the dangers to which an innocent girl is exposed through -ignorance of the fundamental facts of existence; Gourock Ellen and Annie -are types of women whom I have often met. While asking a little -allowance for the pen of the novelist it must be said that nearly all -the incidents of the book have come under the observation of the writer: -that such incidents should take place makes the tragedy of the story. - -PATRICK MACGILL. - -The Garden House, -Windsor. - -_January, 1914._ - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - I. A NIGHT IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE 1 - - II. OLD CUSTOMS 8 - - III. A CORSICAN OUTRAGE 15 - - IV. THE GREAT SILENCE 18 - - V. THE SLAVE MARKET 25 - - VI. BOYNE WATER AND HOLY WATER 34 - - VII. A MAN OF TWELVE 41 - - VIII. OLD MARY SORLEY 48 - - IX. A GOOD TIME 56 - - X. THE LEADING ROAD TO STRABANE 62 - - XI. THE 'DERRY BOAT 67 - - XII. THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT ASHAMED 74 - - XIII. THE MAN WITH THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK 84 - - XIV. PADDING IT 92 - - XV. MOLESKIN JOE 99 - - XVI. MOLESKIN JOE AS MY FATHER 105 - - XVII. ON THE DEAD END 111 - - XVIII. THE DRAINER 127 - - XIX. A DEAD MAN'S SHOES 129 - - XX. BOOKS 136 - - XXI. A FISTIC ARGUMENT 146 - - XXII. THE OPEN ROAD 151 - - XXIII. THE COCK OF THE NORTH 168 - - XXIV. MECCA 175 - - XXV. THE MAN WHO THRASHED CARROTY DAN 182 - - XXVI. A GREAT FIGHT 197 - - XXVII. DE PROFUNDIS 213 - -XXVIII. A LITTLE TRAGEDY 217 - - XXIX. I WRITE FOR THE PAPERS 225 - - XXX. WINTER 230 - - XXXI. THE GREAT EXODUS 243 - - XXXII. A NEW JOB 254 - -XXXIII. A SWEETHEART OF MINE 263 - - XXXIV. UNSKILLED LABOUR OF A NEW KIND 274 - - XXXV. THE SEARCH 287 - - XXXVI. THE END OF THE STORY 298 - - - - -CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END - - - - -CHAPTER I - -A NIGHT IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE - - "The wee red-headed man is a knowing sort of fellow, - His coat is cat's-eye green and his pantaloons are yellow, - His brogues be made of glass and his hose be red as cherry, - He's the lad for devilment if you only make him merry, - He drives a flock of goats, has another flock behind him. - The little children fear him but the old folk never mind him. - To the frogs' house and the goats' house and the hilly land and - hollow, - He will carry naughty children where the parents dare not follow. - Oh! little ones, beware. If the red-haired man should catch you, - You'll have only goats to play with and croaking frogs to watch - you, - A bed between two rocks and not a fire to warm you!-- - Then, little ones, be good and the red-haired man can't harm you." - - --From _The Song of the Red-haired Man_. - - -It was night in the dead of winter, and we sat around the fire that -burned in red and blue flames on the wide open hearth. The blue flames -were a sign of storm. - -The snow was white on the ground that stretched away from the door of my -father's house, down the dip of the brae and over the hill that rose on -the other side of the glen. I had just been standing out by the little -hillock that rose near the corner of the home gable-end, watching the -glen people place their lamps in the window corners. I loved to see the -lights come out one by one until every house was lighted up. Nothing -looks so cheerful as a lamp seen through the darkness. - -On the other side of the valley a mountain stream tumbled down to the -river. It was always crying out at night and the wail in its voice could -be heard ever so far away. It seemed to be lamenting over something -which it had lost. I always thought of women dreeing over a dead body -when I listened to it. It seemed so strange to me, too, that it should -keep coming down and down for ever. - -The hills surrounding the glen were very high; the old people said that -there were higher hills beyond them, but this I found very hard to -believe. - -These were the thoughts in my mind as I entered my home and closed the -door behind me. From the inside I could see the half-moon, twisted like -a cow's horn, shining through the window. - -"It will be a wet month this," said my father. "There are blue flames in -the fire, and a hanging moon never keeps in rain." - -The wind was moaning over the chimney. By staying very quiet one could -hear the wail in its voice, and it was like that of the stream on the -far side of the glen. A pot of potatoes hung over the fire, and as the -water bubbled and sang the potatoes could be seen bursting their jackets -beneath the lid. The dog lay beside the hearthstone, his nose thrust -well over his forepaws, threaping to be asleep, but ready to open his -eyes at the least little sound. Maybe he was listening to the song of -the pot, for most dogs like to hear it. An oil lamp swung by a string -from the roof-tree backwards and forwards like a willow branch when the -wind of October is high. As it swung the shadows chased each other in -the silence of the farther corners of the house. My mother said that if -we were bad children the shadows would run away with us, but they never -did, and indeed we were often full of all sorts of mischief. We felt -afraid of the shadows, they even frightened mother. But father was -afraid of nothing. Once he came from Ardara fair on the Night of the -Dead[1] and passed the graveyard at midnight. - -Sometimes my mother would tell a story, and it was always about the wee -red-headed man who had a herd of goats before him and a herd of goats -behind him, and a salmon tied to the laces of his brogues for supper. I -have now forgotten all the great things which he went through, but in -those days I always thought the story of the wee red-headed man the most -wonderful one in all the world. At that time I had never heard another. - -For supper we had potatoes and buttermilk. The potatoes were emptied -into a large wicker basket round which we children sat with a large bowl -of buttermilk between us, and out of this bowl we drank in turn. Usually -the milk was consumed quickly, and afterwards we ate the potatoes dry. - -Nearly every second year the potatoes went bad; then we were always -hungry, although Farley McKeown, a rich merchant in the neighbouring -village, let my father have a great many bags of Indian meal on credit. -A bag contained sixteen stone of meal and cost a shilling a stone. On -the bag of meal Farley McKeown charged sixpence a month interest; and -fourpence a month on a sack of flour which cost twelve shillings. All -the people round about were very honest, and paid up their debts -whenever they were able. Usually when the young went off to Scotland or -England they sent home money to their fathers and mothers, and with this -money the parents paid for the meal to Farley McKeown. "What doesn't go -to the landlord goes to Farley McKeown," was a Glenmornan saying. - -The merchant was a great friend of the parish priest, who always told -the people if they did not pay their debts they would burn for ever and -ever in hell. "The fires of eternity will make you sorry for the debts -that you did not pay," said the priest. "What is eternity?" he would -ask in a solemn voice from the altar steps. "If a man tried to count the -sands on the sea-shore and took a million years to count every single -grain, how long would it take him to count them all? A long time, you'll -say. But that time is nothing to eternity. Just think of it! Burning in -hell while a man, taking a million years to count a grain of sand, -counts all the sand on the sea-shore. And this because you did not pay -Farley McKeown his lawful debts, his lawful debts within the letter of -the law." That concluding phrase "within the letter of the law" struck -terror into all who listened, and no one, maybe not even the priest -himself, knew what it meant. - -Farley McKeown would give no meal to those who had no children. "That -kind of people, who have no children to earn for them, never pay debts," -he said. "If _they_ get meal and don't pay for it they'll go -down--down," said the priest. "'Tis God Himself that would be angry with -Farley McKeown if he gave meal to people like that." - -The merchant established a great knitting industry in West Donegal. My -mother used to knit socks for him, and he paid her at the rate of one -and threepence a dozen pairs, and it was said that he made a shilling of -profit on a pair of these in England. My mother usually made a pair of -socks daily; but to do this she had to work sixteen hours at the task. -Along with this she had her household duties to look after. "A penny -farthing a day is not much to make," I once said to her. "No, indeed, if -you look at it in that way," she answered. "But it is nearly two pounds -a year and that is half the rent of our farm of land." - -Every Christmas Farley McKeown paid two hundred and fifty pounds to the -church. When the priest announced this from the altar he would say, -"That's the man for you!" and all the members of the congregation would -bow their heads, feeling very much ashamed of themselves because none of -them could give more than a sixpence or a shilling to the silver -collection which always took place at the chapel of Greenanore on -Christmas Day. - -When the night grew later my mother put her bright knitting-needles by -in a bowl over the fireplace, and we all went down on our knees, praying -together. Then mother said: "See and leave the door on the latch; maybe -a poor man will need shelter on a night like this." With these words she -turned the ashes over on the live peat while we got into our beds, one -by one. - -There were six children in our family, three brothers and three sisters. -Of these, five slept in one room, two girls in the little bed, while -Fergus and Dan slept along with me in the other, which was much larger. -Father and mother and Kate, the smallest of us all, slept in the -kitchen. - -When the light was out, we prayed to Mary, Brigid, and Patrick to shield -us from danger until the morning. Then we listened to the winds outside. -We could hear them gather in the dip of the valley and come sweeping -over the bend of the hill, singing great lonely songs in the darkness. -One wind whistled through the keyhole, another tapped on the window with -an ivy leaf, while a third swept under the half-door and rustled across -the hearthstone. Then the breezes died away and there was silence. - -"They're only putting their heads together now," said Dan, "making up a -plan to do some other tricks." - -"I see the moon through the window," said Norah. - -"Who made the moon?" asked Fergus. - -"It was never made," answered Dan. "It was there always." - -"There is a man in the moon," I said. "He was very bad and a priest put -him up there for his sins." - -"He has a pot of porridge in his hand." - -"And a spoon." - -"A wooden spoon." - -"How could it shine at night if it's only a wooden spoon? It's made of -white silver." - -"Like a shillin'." - -"Like a big shillin' with a handle to it." - -"What would we do if we had a shillin'?" asked Ellen. - -"I'd buy a pocket-knife," said Dan. - -"Would you cut me a stick to drive bullocks to the harvest fair of -Greenanore?" asked Fergus. - -"And what good would be in havin' a knife if you cut sticks for other -folk?" - -"I'd buy a prayer-book for the shillin'," said Norah. - -"A prayer-book is no good, once you get it," I said. "A knife is far and -away better." - -"I would buy a sheep for a shillin'," said Fergus. - -"You couldn't get a sheep for a shillin'." - -"Well, I could buy a young one." - -"There never was a young sheep. A young one is only a lamb." - -"A lamb turns into a sheep at midsummer moon." - -"Why has a lamb no horns?" asked Norah. - -"Because it's young," we explained. - -"We'll sing a holy song," said Ellen. - -"We'll sing _Holy Mary_," we all cried together, and began to sing in -the darkness. - - - "Oh! Holy Mary, mother mild. - Look down on me, a little child. - And when I sleep put near my bed - The good Saint Joseph at my head, - My guardian Angel at my right - To keep me good through all the night; - Saint Brigid give me blessings sweet; - Saint Patrick watch beside my feet. - Be good to me O! mother mild, - Because I am a little child." - - -"Get a sleep on you," mother called from the next room. "The wee -red-headed man is comin' down the chimley and he is goin' to take ye -away if ye aren't quiet." - -We fell asleep, and that was how the night passed by in my father's -house years ago. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] The evening of All Souls' Day. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -OLD CUSTOMS - - "Put a green cross beneath the roof on the eve of good Saint Bride - And you'll have luck within the house for long past Lammastide; - Put a green cross above the door--'tis hard to keep it green, - But 'twill bring good luck and happiness for long past Hallow E'en - The green cross holds Saint Brigid's spell, and long the spell - endures, - And 'twill bring blessings on the head of you and all that's - yours." - - --From _The Song of Simple People_. - - -Once a year, on Saint Bride's Eve, my father came home from his day's -work, carrying a load of green rushes on his shoulders. At the door he -would stand for a moment with his feet on the threshold and say these -words: - -"Saint Bride sends her blessings to all within. Give her welcome." - -Inside my mother would answer, "Welcome she is," and at these words my -father would loosen the shoulder-knot and throw his burden on the floor. -Then he made crosses from the rushes, wonderful crosses they were. It -was said that my father was the best at that kind of work in all the -countryside. When made, they were placed in various parts of the house -and farm. They were hung up in our home, over the lintel of the door, -the picture of the Holy Family, the beds, the potato pile and the -fireplace. One was placed over the spring well, one in the pig-sty, and -one over the roof-tree of the byre. By doing this the blessing of Saint -Bride remained in the house for the whole of the following year. I -liked to watch my father plaiting the crosses, but I could never make -one myself. - -When my mother churned milk she lifted the first butter that formed on -the top of the cream and placed it against the wall outside the door. It -was left there for the fairy folk when they roamed through the country -at midnight. They would not harm those who gave them an offering in that -manner, but the people who forgot them would have illness among their -cattle through all the length of the year. - -If my father met a red-haired woman when he was going to the market he -would turn home. To meet a red-haired woman on the high-road is very -unlucky. - -It is a bad market where there are more women than men. "Two women and a -goose make a market," is the saying among the Glenmornan folk. - -If my mother chanced to overturn the milk which she had drawn from the -cow, she would say these words: "Our loss go with it. Them that it goes -to need it more than we do." One day I asked her who were the people to -whom it went. "The gentle folk," she told me. These were the fairies. - -You very seldom hear persons called by their surname in Glenmornan. -Every second person you meet there is either a Boyle or an O'Donnell. -You want to ask a question about Hugh O'Donnell. "Is it Patrick's Hugh -or Mickey's Hugh or Sean's Hugh?" you will be asked. So too in the Glen -you never say _Mrs._ when speaking of a married woman. It is just -"Farley's Brigid" or "Patrick's Norah" or "Cormac's Ellen," as the case -may be. There was one woman in Glenmornan who had a little boy of about -my age, and she seldom spoke to anybody on the road to chapel or market. -Everyone seemed to avoid her, and the old people called her "that -woman," and they often spoke about her doings. She had never a man of -her own, they said. Of course I didn't understand these things, but I -knew there was a great difference in being called somebody's Mary or -Norah instead of "that woman." - -On St. Stephen's Day the Glenmornan boys beat the bushes and killed as -many wrens as they could lay their hands on. The wren is a bad bird, for -it betrayed St. Stephen to the Jews when they wanted to put him to -death. The saint hid in a clump of bushes, but the wrens made such a -chatter and clatter that the Jews, when passing, stopped to see what -annoyed the birds, and found the saint hiding in the undergrowth. No -wonder then that the Glenmornan people have a grudge against the wren! - -Kissing is almost unknown in the place where I was born and bred. Judas -betrayed the Son of God with a kiss, which proves beyond a doubt that -kissing is of the devil's making. It is no harm to kiss the dead in -Glenmornan, for no one can do any harm to the dead. - -Once I got bitten by a dog. The animal snapped a piece of flesh from my -leg and ate it when he got out of the way. When I came into my own house -my father and mother were awfully frightened. If three hairs of the dog -that bit me were not placed against the sore I would go mad before seven -moons had faded. Oiney Dinchy, who owned the dog, would not give me -three hairs because I was unfortunate enough to be stealing apples when -the dog rushed at me. For all that it mattered to Oiney, I might go as -mad as a March hare. The priest, when informed of the trouble, blessed -salt which he told my father to place on the wound. My father did so, -but the salt pained me so much that I rushed screaming from the house. -The next door neighbours ran into their homes and closed their doors -when they heard me scream. Two little girls were coming to our house for -the loan of a half-bottle of holy water for a sick cow, and when they -saw me rush out they fled hurriedly, shrieking that I was already mad -from the bite of Oiney Dinchy's dog. When Oiney heard this he got -frightened and he gave my father three hairs of the dog with a civil -hand. I placed them on my sore, the dog was hung by a rope from the -branch of a tree, and the madness was kept away from me. I hear that -nowadays in Glenmornan the people never apply the holy salt to the bite -of a dog. Thus do old customs change. - -The six-hand reel is a favourite Glenmornan dance, but in my time a new -parish priest came along who did not approve of dancing. "The six-hand -reel is a circle, the centre of which is the devil," said he, and called -a house in which a dance was held the "Devil's Station." He told the -people to cease dancing, but they would not listen to him. "When we get -a new parish priest we don't want a new God," they said. "The old God -who allowed dancing is good enough for us." The priest put the seven -curses on the people who said these words. I only know three of the -seven curses. - - - May you have one leg and it to be halting. - May you have one eye and it to be squinting - May you have one tooth and it to be aching. - - -The second curse fell on one man--old Oiney Dinchy, who had a light foot -on a good floor. When tying a restive cow in the byre, the animal caught -Oiney in the ball of one eye with the point of its horn, and Oiney could -only see through the other eye afterwards. The people when they saw this -feared the new parish priest, but they never took any heed to the new -God, and up to this day there are many good six-hand reelers in -Glenmornan. And the priest is dead. - -The parish priest who came in his place was a little pot-bellied man -with white shiny false teeth, who smoked ninepenny cigars and who always -travelled first-class in a railway train. Everybody feared him because -he put curses on most of the people in Glenmornan; and usually on the -people whom I thought best in the world. Those whom I did not like at -all became great friends of the priest. I always left the high-road when -I saw him coming. His name was Father Devaney, and he was eternally -looking for money from the people, who, although very poor, always paid -when the priest commanded them. If they did not they would go to hell as -soon as they died. So Father Devaney said. - -A stranger in Glenmornan should never talk about crows. The people of -the Glen are nicknamed the "Crow Chasers," because once in the bad days, -the days of the potato failure, they chased for ten long hours a crow -that had stolen a potato, and took back the potato at night in triumph. -This has been cast up in their teeth ever since, and it is an ill day -for a stranger when he talks about crows to the Glenmornan people. - -Courtship is unknown in Glenmornan. When a young man takes it in his -head to marry, he goes out in company with a friend and a bottle of -whisky and looks for a woman. If one refuses, the young man looks for -another and another until the bottle of whisky is consumed. The friend -talks to the girl's father and lays great stress upon the merits of the -would-be husband, who meanwhile pleads his suit with the girl. Sometimes -a young man empties a dozen bottles of whisky before he can persuade a -woman to marry him. - -In my own house we had flesh meat to dinner four times each year, on St. -Patrick's Day, Easter Sunday, Christmas Day, and New Year's Day. If the -harvest had been a good one we took bacon with our potatoes at the -ingathering of the hay. Ours was a hay harvest; we grew very little -corn. - -Of all the seasons of the year I liked the harvest-time best. Looking -from the door of my father's house I had the whole of Glenmornan under -my eyes. Far down the Glen the road wound in and out, now on one side of -the river and now on the other, running away to the end of Ireland, and -for all that I knew, maybe to the end of the world itself. - -The river came from the hills, tumbling over rocks in showers of fine -white mist and forming into deep pools beneath, where it rested calmly -after its mad race. Here the trout leaped all day, and turned the placid -surface into millions of petulant ripples which broke like waves under -the hazel bushes that shaded the banks. In the fords further along the -heavy milch cows stood belly-deep in the stream, seeking relief from the -madness that the heat and the gad-flies put into their blood. - -The young cattle grazed on the braes, keeping well in the shadow of the -cliffs, while from the hill above the mountain-sheep followed one -another in single file, as is their wont, down to the lower and sweeter -pastures. - -The mowers were winding their scythes in long heavy sweeps through the -meadow in the bottomlands, and rows of mown hay lay behind them. Even -where I stood, far up, I could hear the sharp swish of their scythes as -they cut through the bottom grass. - -The young maidens, their legs bare well above their knees, tramped linen -at the brookside and laughed merrily at every joke that passed between -them. - -The neighbours spoke to one another across the march ditches, and their -talk was of the weather and the progress of the harvest. - -The farmer boy could be seen going to the moor for a load of peat, his -creel swinging in a careless way across his shoulders and his hands deep -in his trousers' pockets. He was barefooted, and the brown moss was all -over the calves of his legs. He was thinking of something as he walked -along and he looked well in his torn shirt and old hat. Many a time I -wondered what were the thoughts which filled his mind. - -Now and again a traveller passed along the road, looking very tired as -he dragged his legs after him. His hob-nailed boots made a rasping sound -on the grey gravel, and it was hard to tell where he was going. - -One day a drover passed along, driving his herd of wild-eyed, panting -bullocks before him. He was a little man and he carried a heavy cudgel -of a stick in his hands. I went out to the road to see him passing and -also to speak to him if he took any notice of a little fellow. - -"God's blessing be on every beast under your care," I said, repeating -the words which my mother always said to the drovers which she met. "Is -it any harm to ask you where you are going?" - -"I'm goin' to the fair of 'Derry," said he. - -"Is 'Derry fair as big as the fair of Greenanore, good man?" - -He laughed at my question, and I could see his teeth black with tobacco -juice. "Greenanore!" he exclaimed. "'Derry fair is a million times -bigger." - -Of course I didn't believe him, for had I not been at the harvest-fair -of Greenanore myself, and I thought that there could be nothing greater -in all the seven corners of the world. But it was in my world and I knew -more of the bigger as the years went on. - -In those days the world, to me, meant something intangible, which lay -beyond the farthest blue line of mountains which could be seen from -Glenmornan Hill. And those mountains were ever so far away! How many -snug little houses, white under their coatings of cockle lime, how many -wooden bridges spanning hurrying streams, and how many grey roads -crossing brown moors lay between Glenmornan Hill and the last blue line -of mountain tops that looked over into the world for which I longed with -all the wistfulness of youth, I did not know. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A CORSICAN OUTRAGE - - "When brown trout leap in ev'ry burn, when hares are scooting on - the brae, - When rabbits frisk where e'er you turn, 'tis sad to waste your - hours away - Within bald Learning's droning hive with pen and pencil, rod and - rule-- - Oh! the unhappiest soul alive is oft a little lad at school." - - --From _The Man who Met the Scholars_. - - -I did not like school. My father could neither read nor write, and he -didn't trouble much about my education. - -The priest told him to send me to the village school, and I was sent -accordingly. - -"The priest should know what is best," my father said. - -The master was a little man with a very large stomach. He was short of -breath, and it was very funny to hear him puffing on a very warm day, -when the sweat ran down his face and wetted his collar. The people about -thought that he was very wise, and said that he could talk a lot of -wisdom if he were not so short of breath. Whenever he sat by the school -fire he fell asleep. Everyone said that though very wise the man was -very lazy. When he got to his feet after a sleep he went about the -schoolroom grunting like a sick cow. For the first six months at school -I felt frightened of him, after that I disliked him. He beat me about -three times a day. He cut hazel rods on his way to school, and used them -every five minutes when not asleep. Nearly all the scholars cried -whenever they were beaten, but I never did. I think this was one of his -strongest reasons for hating me more than any of the rest. I learned -very slowly, and never could do my sums correctly, but I liked to read -the poems in the more advanced books and could recite _Childe Harold's -Farewell_ when only in the second standard. - -When I was ten years of age I left school, being then only in the third -book. This was the way of it. One day, when pointing out places on the -map of the world, the master came round, and the weather being hot the -man was in a bad temper. - -"Point out Corsica, Dermod Flynn," he said. - -I had not the least idea as to what part of the world Corsica occupied, -and I stood looking awkwardly at the master and the map in turn. I think -that he enjoyed my discomfited expression, for he gazed at me in silence -for a long while. - -"Dermod Flynn, point out Corsica," he repeated. - -"I don't know where it is," I answered sullenly. - -"I'll teach you!" he roared, getting hold of my ear and pulling it -sharply. The pain annoyed me; I got angry and hardly was aware of what I -was doing. I just saw his eyes glowering into mine. I raised the pointer -over my head and struck him right across the face. Then a red streak ran -down the side of his nose and it frightened me to see it. - -"Dermod Flynn has killed the master!" cried a little girl whose name was -Norah Ryan and who belonged to the same class as myself. - -I was almost certain that I had murdered him, for he dropped down on the -form by the wall without speaking a word and placed both his hands over -his face. For a wee bit I stood looking at him; then I caught up my cap -and rushed out of the school. - -Next day, had it not been for the red mark on his face, the master was -as well as ever. But I never went back to school again. My father did -not believe much in book learning, so he sent me out to work for the -neighbours who required help at the seed-time or harvest. Sixpence a day -was my wages, and the work in the fields was more to my liking than the -work at the school. - -Whenever I passed the scholars on the road afterwards they said to one -another: "Just think of it! Dermod Flynn struck the master across the -face when he was at the school." - -Always I felt very proud of my action when I heard them say that. It was -a great thing for a boy of my age to stand up on his feet and strike a -man who was four times his age. Even the young men spoke of my action -and, what was more, they praised my courage. They had been at school -themselves and they did not like the experience. - -Nowadays, whenever I look at Corsica on the map, I think of old Master -Diver and the days I spent under him in the little Glenmornan -schoolhouse. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE GREAT SILENCE - - "Where the people toil like beasts in the field till their bones - are strained and sore, - There the landlord waits, like the plumbless grave, calling out for - more - Money to flounce his daughters' gowns or clothe his spouse's hide, - Money so that his sons can learn to gamble, shoot, and ride; - And for every debt of honour paid and for every dress and frill, - The blood of the peasant's wife and child goes out to meet the - bill." - - --From _The Song of the Glen People_. - - -I was nearly twelve years old when Dan, my youngest brother, died. It -was in the middle of winter, and he was building a snow-man in front of -the half-door when he suddenly complained of a pain in his throat. -Mother put him to bed and gave him a drink of hot milk. She did not send -for the doctor because there was no money in the house to pay the bill. -Dan lay in bed all the evening and many of the neighbours came in to see -him. Towards midnight I was sent to bed, but before going I heard my -father ask mother if she thought that Dan would live till morning. I -could not sleep, but kept turning over in the bed and praying to the -Blessed Virgin to save my little brother. The new moon, sharp as a -scythe, was peeping through the window of my room when my mother came to -my bed and told me to rise and kiss Dan for the last time. She turned -her face away as she spoke, and I knew that she was weeping. My brother -was lying on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling with wide-staring eyes. -A crimson flush was on his face and his breath pained him. I bent down -and pressed his cheek. I was afraid, and the kiss made my lips burn like -fire. The three of us then stood together and my father shook the holy -water all over the room. All at once Dan sat up in the bed and gripped a -tight hold of the blankets. I wanted to run out of the room but my -mother would not let me. - -"Are ye wantin' anything?" asked my father, bending over the bed, but -there was no answer. My brother fell back on the bed and his face got -very white. - -"Poor Dan is no more," said my father, the tears coming out of his eyes. -'Twas the first time I ever saw him weeping, and I thought it very -strange. My mother went to the window and opened it in order to let the -soul of my brother go away to heaven. - -"It is all in the hands of God," she said. "He is only taking back what -He sent us." - -There was silence in the room for a long while. My father and mother -wept, and I was afraid of something which was beyond my understanding. - -"Will Dan ever come back again?" I asked. - -"Hush, dearie!" said my mother. - -"It will take a lot of money to bury the poor boy," said my father. "It -costs a good penny to rear one, but it's a bad job when one is taken -away." - -I had once seen an old woman buried--"Old Nan," the beggarwoman. For -many years she had passed up and down Glenmornan Road, collecting -bottles and rags, which she paid for in blessings and afterwards sold -for pence. Being wrinkled, heavy-boned, and bearded like a man, everyone -said that she was a witch. One summer Old Nan died, and two days later -she was carried to the little graveyard. I played truant from school and -followed the sweating men who were carrying the coffin on their -shoulders. They seemed to be well-pleased when they came in sight of the -churchyard and the cold silent tombstones. - -"The old witch was as heavy as lead," I heard the bearers say. - -They set down their burden and dug a hole in the soft earth, throwing up -black clay and white bones to the surface with their shovels. The bones -looked like those of sheep which die on the hills and are left to rot. -The air was heavy with the humming of bees, and a little brook sang a -soft song of its own as it hurried past the graveyard wall. The upturned -earth had a sickly smell like mildewed corn. Some of the diggers knew -whose bone this was and whose that was, but they had a hard argument -about a thigh-bone before Old Nan was put into the earth. Some said that -the thigh-bone belonged to old Farley Kelly, who had died many years -before, and others said that it belonged to Farley's wife. I thought it -a curious thing that people could not know the difference between a man -and a woman when dead. While the men were discussing the thigh-bone it -was left lying on the black clay which fringed the mouth of the grave, -and a long earth-worm crawled across it. A man struck at the worm with -his spade and broke the bone into three pieces. The worm was cut in two, -and it fell back into the grave while one of the diggers threw the -splinters of bone on top of it. Then they buried Old Nan, and everyone -seemed very light-hearted over the job. Why shouldn't they feel merry? -She was only an old witch, anyhow. But I did not feel happy. The grave -looked a cold cheerless place and the long crawling worms were ugly. - -So our poor Dan would go down into the dark earth like Old Nan, the -witch! The thought frightened me, and I began to cry with my father and -mother, and we were all three weeping still, but more quietly, when the -first dim light of the lonely dawn came stealing through the window -panes. - -Two old sisters, Martha and Bride, lived next door. My mother asked me -to go out and tell them about Dan's death. I ran out quickly, and I -found both women up and at work washing dishes beside the dresser. -Martha had a tin basin in her hand, and she let it drop to the floor -when I delivered my message. Bride held a jug, and it seemed for a -moment that she was going to follow her sister's example, but all at -once she called to mind that the jug was made of delft, so she placed it -on the dresser, and both followed me back to my home. Once there they -asked many questions about Dan, his sickness and how he came to die. -When they had heard all, they told of several herbs and charms which -would have cured the illness at once. Dandelion dipped in rock water, or -bogbine[2] boiled for two hours in the water of the marsh from which it -was plucked, would have worked wonders. Also seven drops of blood from a -cock that never crowed, or the boiled liver of a rabbit that never -crossed a white road, were the very best things to give to a sick -person. So they said, and when Bride tried to recollect some more -certain cures Martha kept repeating the old ones until I was almost -tired of listening to her voice. - -"Why did ye not take in the docthor?" asked Martha. - -"We had no money in the house," said my mother. - -"An' did ye not sell half a dozen sheep at the fair the day afore -yesterday?" asked Bride. "I'm sure that ye got a good penny for them -same sheep." - -"We did that," said my mother; "but the money is for the landlord's rent -and the priest's tax." - -At that time the new parish priest, the little man with the pot-belly -and the shiny false teeth, was building a grand new house. Farley -McKeown had given five hundred pounds towards the cost of building, -which up to now amounted to one thousand five hundred pounds. So the -people said, but they were not quite sure. The cost of building was not -their business, that was the priest's; all the people had to do was to -pay their tax, which amounted to five pounds on every family in the -parish. They were allowed five years in which to pay it. On two -occasions my father was a month late in paying the money and the priest -put a curse on him each time. So my father said. I have only a very -faint recollection of these things which took place when I was quite a -little boy. - -"God be good to us! but five pounds is a heavy tax for even a priest to -put on poor people," said Bride. - -"It's not for us to say anything against a priest, no matter what he -does," said my father, crossing himself. - -"I don't care what ye say, Michael Flynn," said the old woman; "five -pounds is a big tax to pay. The priest is spending three hundred gold -sovereigns in making a lava-thury (lavatory). Three hundred sovereigns! -that's a waste of money." - -"Lava-thury?" said my mother. "And what would that be at all?" - -"It's myself that does not know," answered Bride. "But old Oiney Dinchy -thinks that it is a place for keeping holy water." - -"Poor wee Dan," said Martha, looking at the white face in the bed. "It's -the hard way that death has with it always. He was a lively boy only -three days ago. Wasn't it then that he came over to our house and tied -the dog's tail to the bundle of yarn that just came from Farley -McKeown's. I was angry with the dear little rascal, too; God forgive -me!" - -Then Martha and Bride began to cry together, one keeping time with the -other, but when my mother got ready some tea they sat down and drank a -great deal of it. - -A great number of neighbours came in during the day. They all said -prayers by Dan's bedside, then they drank whisky and tea and smoked my -father's tobacco. For two nights my dead brother was waked. Every day -fresh visitors came, and for these my father had to buy extra food, -snuff, and tobacco, so that the little money in his possession was -sliding through his fingers like water in a sieve. - -On the day of the funeral Dan went to the grave in a little deal box -which my father himself fashioned. They would not let me go and see the -burial. - -In the evening when my parents came back their eyes were red as fire and -they were still crying. We sat round the peat blaze and Dan's stool was -left vacant. We expected that he would return at any moment. We children -could not understand the strange silent thing called Death. The oil lamp -was not lighted. There was no money in the house to pay for oil. - -"There's very little left now," said my mother late that night, as I was -turning in to bed. She was speaking to my father. "Wasn't there big -offerings?" she asked. - -Everybody who comes to a Catholic funeral in Donegal pays a shilling to -the priest who conducts the burial service, and the nearest blood -relation always pays five shillings, and is asked to give more if he can -afford it. Money lifted thus is known as offerings, and all goes to the -priest, who takes in hand to shorten the sufferings of the souls in -Purgatory. - -"Eight pounds nine shillings," said my father. "It's a big penny. The -priest was talking to me, and says that he wants another pound for his -new house at once. I'm over three weeks behind, and if he puts a curse -on me this time what am I to do at all, at all?" - -"What you said is the only thing to be done," my mother said. I did not -understand what these words meant, and I was afraid to ask a question. - -"It's the only thing to be done," she remarked again, and after that -there was a long silence. - -"Dermod, asthor[3]!" she said all at once. "Come next May, ye must go -beyont the mountains to push yer fortune, pay the priest, and make up -the rent for the Hallow E'en next coming." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[2] Marsh trefoil. - -[3] Darling. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE SLAVE MARKET - - "My mother's love for me is warm, - Her house is cold and bare, - A man who wants to see the world - Has little comfort there; - And there 'tis hard to pay the rent, - For all you dig and delve, - But there's hope beyond the Mountains - For a little Man of Twelve." - - --From _The Man of Twelve_. - - -When the following May came round, I had been working at the -turnip-thinning with a neighbouring man, and one evening I came back to -my own home in the greyness of the soft dusk. It had been a long day's -work, from seven in the morning to nine of the clock at night. A boy can -never have too much time to himself and too little to do, but I was kept -hard at work always, and never had a moment to run about the lanes or -play by the burns with other children. Indeed, I did not care very much -for the company of boys of my own age. Because I was strong for my years -I despised them, and in turn I was despised by the youths who were older -than myself. "Too-long-for-your-trousers" they called me, and I believe -that I merited the nickname, for I wished ever so much to grow up -quickly and be able to carry a creel of peat like Jim Scanlon, or drive -a horse and cart with Ned O'Donnel, who lived next door but one to my -father's house. - -Sometimes I would go out for a walk with these two men on a Sunday -afternoon, that is, if they allowed me to accompany them. I listened -eagerly to every word spoken by them and used to repeat their remarks -aloud to myself afterwards. Sometimes I would speak like them in my own -home. - -"Isn't it a shame the way Connel Diver of the hill treats his wife," I -said to my father and mother one day. "He goes out in the evening and -courts Widow Breslin when he should stay at home with his own woman." - -"Dermod, asthor! What puts them ideas into yer head?" asked my mother. -"What d'ye know abot Connel Diver and the Widow Breslin?" - -"It's them two vagabonds, Micky's Jim and Dinchy's Ned, that's tellin' -him these things," said my father; "but let me never catch him goin' out -of the door with any of the pair of them again." - -Whatever was the reason of it, I liked the company of the two youths a -great deal more afterwards. - -On this May evening, as I was saying, I came back from the day's work -and found my mother tying all my spare clothes into a large brown -handkerchief. - -"Ye're goin' away beyont the mountains in the mornin', Dermod," she -said. "Ye have to go out and push yer fortune. We must get some money to -pay the rent come Hallow E'en, and as ye'll get a bigger penny workin' -with the farmers away there, me and yer da have thought of sendin' ye to -the hirin'-fair of Strabane on the morra." - -I had been dreaming of this journey for months before, and I never felt -happier in all my life than I did when my mother spoke these words. I -clapped my hands with pure joy, danced in front of the door, and threw -my cap into the air. - -"Are ye not sorry at leavin' home?" my mother asked, and from her manner -of speaking I knew that she was not pleased to see me so happy. - -"What would I be sorry for?" I asked, and ran off to tell Micky's Jim -about the journey which lay before me the next morning. Didn't I feel -proud, too, when Micky's Jim, who had spent many seasons at the potato -digging in Scotland, shook hands with me just the same as if I had been -a full-grown man. Indeed, I felt that I was a man when I returned to my -own doorstep and saw the preparations that were being made for my -departure. Everyone was hard at work, my sisters sewing buttons on my -clothes, my mother putting a new string in the _Medal of the Sacred -Heart_ which I had to wear around my neck when far away from her -keeping, and my father hammering nails into my boots so that they would -last me through the whole summer and autumn. - -That night when we were on our knees at the Rosary, I mumbled through my -prayers, made a mistake in the number of _Hail Marys_, and forgot -several times to respond to the prayers of the others. No one said a -word of reproof, and I felt that I had become a very important person. I -thought that my mother wept during the prayers, but of this I was not -quite certain. - - -"Rise up, Dermod," said my mother, touching me on the shoulder next -morning. "The white arm of the dawn is stealin' over the door, and it is -time ye were out on yer journey." - -I took my breakfast, but did not feel very hungry. At the last moment my -mother looked through my bundle to see if I had everything which I -needed, then, with my father's blessings and my mother's prayers, I went -out from my people in the grey of the morning. - -A pale mist was rising off the braes as I crossed the wooden bridge that -lay between my home and the leading road to Greenanore. There was hardly -a move in the wind, and the green grass by the roadside was heavy with -drops of dew. Under the bridge a salmon jumped, all at once, breaking -the pool into a million strips of glancing water. As I leant over the -rails I could see, far down, a large trout waving his tail in slow easy -sweeps and opening and closing his mouth rapidly as if he was out of -breath. He was almost the colour of the sand on which he was lying. - -I stopped for a moment at the bend of the road, and looked back at my -home. My father was standing at the door waving his hand, and I saw my -mother rub her eyes with the corner of her apron. I thought that she was -crying, but I did not trouble myself very much about that, for I knew -women are very fond of weeping. I waved my hand over my head, then I -turned round the corner and went out of their sight, feeling neither -sorry nor afraid. - -I met Norah Ryan on the road. She had been my schoolmate, and when we -were in the class together I had liked to look at her soft creamy skin -and grey eyes. She always put me in mind of pictures of angels that were -hung on the walls of the little chapel in the village. Her mother was -going to send her into a convent when she left school--so the neighbours -said. - -"Where are ye for this morning, Dermod Flynn?" she asked. - -"Beyond the mountains," I told her. - -"Ye'll not come back for a long while, will ye?" - -I said that I would never come back, just to see how she took it, and I -was very vexed when she just laughed and walked on. I felt sorrier -leaving her than leaving anyone else whom I knew, and I stood and looked -back after her many, many times, but she never turned even to bid me -good-bye. - -On the road several boys and girls, all bound for the hiring market of -Strabane, joined me. When we were all together there was none amongst us -over fourteen years of age. The girls carried their boots in their -hands. They were so used to running barefooted on the moors that they -found themselves more comfortable walking along the gritty road in that -manner. While journeying to the station they sang out bravely, all -except one girl, who was crying, but no one paid very much heed to her. -A boy of fourteen who was one of the party had been away before. His -shoulders were very broad, his legs were twisted and his body was all -awry. Some said that he was born in a frost and that he got slewed in a -thaw. He smoked a short clay pipe which he drew from his mouth when the -girls started singing. - -"Sing away now, ye will!" he cried. "Ye'll not sing much afore ye're -long away." For all that he was singing louder than any three of the -party himself before we arrived at the railway station. - -The platform was crowded. I saw youngsters who had come a distance of -twelve miles and who had been travelling all night. They looked worn out -and sleepy. With some of the children fathers and mothers came. - -"We are goin' to drive a hard bargain with the masters," some of the -parents said. - -"Some of them won't bring in a good penny because they're played out on -the long tramp to the station," said others. - -They meant no disrespect for their children, but their words put me in -mind of the manner of speaking of drovers who sell bullocks at the -harvest-fair of Greenanore. - -There was a rush for seats when the train came in and nearly every -carriage became crowded in an instant. There were over twenty in my -compartment, some standing, a few sitting, but most of us trying to look -out of the windows. Next to us was a first-class carriage, and I noticed -that it contained only one single person. I had never been in a railway -train before and I knew very little about things. - -"Why is there only one man in there, while twenty of us are crammed in -here?" I asked the boy with the clay pipe, for he happened to be beside -me. - -My friend looked at me with the pride of one who knows. - -"Shure, ye know nothin'," he answered. "That man's a gintleman." - -"I would like to be a gintleman," I said in all simplicity. - -"Ye a gintleman!" roared the boy. "Ye haven't a white shillin' between -ye an' the world an' ye talk as if ye were a king. A gintleman, indeed! -What put that funny thought into yer head, Dermod Flynn?" - -After a while the boy spoke again. - -"D'ye know who that gintleman is?" he asked. - -"I don't know at all," I answered. - -"That's the landlord who owns yer father's land and many a broad acre -forbye." - -Then I knew what a gentleman really was. He was the monster who grabbed -the money from the people, who drove them out to the roadside, who took -six ears of every seven ears of corn produced by the peasantry; the man -who was hated by all men, yet saluted on the highways by most of the -people when they met him. He had taken the money which might have saved -my brother's life, and it was on account of him that I had now to set -out to the Calvary of mid-Tyrone. I went out on the platform again and -stole a glance at the man. He was small, thin-lipped, and ugly-looking. -I did not think much of him, and I wondered why the Glenmornan people -feared him so much. - - -We stood huddled together like sheep for sale in the market-place of -Strabane. Over our heads the town clock rang out every passing quarter -of an hour. I had never in my life before seen a clock so big. I felt -tired and placed my bundle on the kerbstone and sat down upon it. A -girl, one of my own country-people, looked at me. - -"Sure, ye'll never get a man to hire ye if ye're seen sitting there," -she said. - -I got up quickly, feeling very much ashamed to know that a girl was able -to teach me things. It wouldn't have mattered so much if a boy had told -me. - -There was great talk going on about the Omagh train. The boys who had -been sold at the fair before said that the best masters came from near -the town of Omagh, and so everyone waited eagerly until eleven o'clock, -the hour at which the train was due. - -It was easy to know when the Omagh men came, for they overcrowded an -already big market. Most of them were fat, angry-looking fellows, who -kept moving up and down examining us after the manner of men who seek -out the good and bad points of horses which they intend to buy. - -Sometimes they would speak to each other, saying that they never saw -such a lousy and ragged crowd of servants in the market-place in all -their life before, and they did not seem to care even if we overheard -them say these things. On the whole I had no great liking for the Omagh -men. - -A big man with a heavy stomach came up to me. - -"How much do ye want for the six months?" he asked. - -"Six pounds," I told him. - -"Shoulders too narrow for the money," he said, more to himself than to -me, and walked on. - -Standing beside me was an old father, who had a son and daughter for -sale. The girl looked pale and sickly. She had a cough that would split -a rock. - -"Arrah, an' will ye whisth that coughin'!" said her brother, time and -again. "Sure, ye know that no wan will give ye wages if ye go on in that -way." - -The father never spoke. I suppose he felt that there was nothing to be -said. During one of these fits of coughing an evil-faced farmer who was -looking for a female servant came around and asked the old man what -wages did he want for his daughter. - -"Five pounds," said the old man, and there was a tremble in his voice -when he spoke. - -"And maybe the cost of buryin' her," said the farmer with a white laugh -as he passed on his way. - -High noon had just passed when a youngish man, curiously old in -appearance, stood in front of me. His shoulders were very broad, and one -of them was far higher than the other. His waist was slender like a -girl's, but his buttocks were heavy out of all proportion to his thin -waist and slim slivers of shanks. - -"Six pounds!" he repeated when I told him what wages I desired. "It's a -big penny to give a wee man. I'll give ye a five-pound note for the six -months and not one white sixpence more." - -He struck me on the back while he spoke as if to test the strength of my -spine, then ran his fingers over my shoulder and squeezed the thick of -my arm so tightly that I almost roared in his face with the pain of it. -After a long wrangle I wrung an offer of five pounds ten shillings for -my wages and I was his for six months to come. - -"Now gi' me your bundle and come along," he said. - -I handed him my parcel of clothes and followed him through the streets, -leaving the crowd of wrangling masters and obdurate boys fighting over -final sixpences behind me. My master kept talking most of the time, and -this was how he kept going on. - -"What is yer name? Dermod Flynn? A Papist?--all Donegals are Papists. -That doesn't matter to me, for if ye're a good willin' worker me and ye -'ill get on grand. I suppose ye'll have a big belly. It'll be hard to -fill. Are ye hungry now? I suppose yer teeth will be growin' long with -starvation, so I'll see if I can get ye anything to ate." - -We turned up a little side street, passed under a low archway and went -into an inn kitchen, where a young woman with a very red face was -bending over a frying-pan on which she was turning many thick slices of -bacon. The odour caused my stomach to feel empty. - -"This is a new cub that I got, Mary," said the man to the servant. "He's -a Donegal like yerself and he's hungry. Give him some tay and bread." - -"And some butter," added Mary, looking at me. - -"How much is the butter extra?" asked my master. - -"Tuppence," said Mary. - -"I don't think that this cub cares for butter. D'ye?" he asked, turning -to me. - -"I like butter," I said. - -"Who'd have thought of that, now?" he said, and he did not look at all -pleased. "Ye can wait here," he continued, "and I'll come back for ye in -a wee while and the two of us can go along to my farm together." - -He went out and left me alone with the servant. As he passed the window, -on his way to the street, Mary put her thumb to her nose and spread her -fingers out towards him. - -"I hate Orangemen," she said to me; "and that pig of a Bennet is wan of -the worst of the breedin'. Ah, the old slobber-chops! See and keep up -yer own end of the house with him, anyhow, and never let the vermint -tramp over you." - -She made ready a pot of tea, gave me some bread and butter and two -rashers of bacon. - -"Ate yer hearty fill now, Dermod," said the good-natured girl; "for -ye'll not get a dacent male for the next six months." - -And I didn't. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -BOYNE WATER AND HOLY WATER - - "Since two can't gain in the bargain, - Then who shall bear the loss - When little children are auctioned - As slaves at the Market Cross? - Come to the Cross and the Market, - Where the wares of the world are sold, - And the wares are little children, - Traded for pieces of gold." - - --From _Good Bargains_. - - -My master's name was Bennet--Joe Bennet. He owned a farm of some eighty -acres and kept ten milch cows, two cart-horses, and twenty sheep. He -possessed a spring-cart, but he seldom used it. It had been procured at -one time for taking the family to church, but they were ashamed to put -any of the cart-horses between the shafts, and no wonder. One of the -horses was spavined and the other was covered with angleberries. - -He brought me home from Strabane on the old cart drawn by the spavined -horse, and though it was well past midnight when we returned I had to -wash the vehicle before I turned into bed. My supper consisted of -buttermilk and potatoes, which were served up on the table in the -kitchen. The first object that encountered my eye was a large picture of -_King William Crossing the Boyne_, hung from a nail over the fireplace -and almost brown with age. I hated the picture from the moment I set -eyes on it, and though my dislikes are short-lived they are intense -while they last. This picture almost assumed an orange tint before I -left, and many a time I used to spit at it out of pure spite when left -alone in the kitchen. - -The household consisted of five persons, Bennet, his father and mother, -and two sisters. He was always quarrelling with his two sisters, who, in -addition to being wasp-waisted and spider-shanked, were peppery-tongued -and salt-tempered, but he never got the best of the argument. The two -hussies could talk the head off a drum. The old father was half-doting, -and he never spoke to anybody but me. He sat all day in the -chimney-corner, rubbing one skinny hand over the other, and kicking the -dog if ever it happened to draw near the fire. When he spoke to me it -was to point out some fault which I had committed at my work. - -The woman of the house was bent like the rim of a dish from constant -stooping over her work. She got up in the morning before anyone else and -trudged about in the yard all day, feeding the hens, washing the linen, -weeding the walk or seeing after the cows. I think that she had a liking -for me. One day when I was working beside her in the cabbage patch she -said these words to me: - -"It's a pity you're a Papist, Dermod." - -I suppose she meant it in good part, but her talk made me angry. - -My bedroom was placed on the second floor, and a rickety flight of -stairs connected the apartment with the kitchen. My room was comfortable -enough when the weather was good, but when it was wet the rain often -came in by the roof and soaked through my blankets. But the hard work on -Bennet's farm made me so tired that a wet blanket could not keep me from -sleeping. In the morning I was called at five o'clock and sent out to -wash potatoes in a pond near the house. Afterwards they were boiled in a -pot over the kitchen fire, and when cooked they were eaten by the pigs -and me. I must say that I was allowed to pick the best potatoes for -myself, and I got a bowl of buttermilk to wash them down. The pigs got -buttermilk also. This was my breakfast during the six months. For dinner -I had potatoes and buttermilk, for supper buttermilk and potatoes. I -never got tea in the afternoon. The Bennets took tea themselves, but I -suppose they thought that such a luxury was unnecessary for me. - -I always went down on my knees at the bedside to say my prayers. I knew -that young Bennet did not like this, so I always left my door wide open -that he might see me praying as he passed by on the way to his own -bedroom. - -From the moment of my arrival I began to realise that the Country beyond -the Mountains, as the people at home call Tyrone, was not the best place -in the world for a man of twelve. Sadder than that it was for me to -learn that I was not worthy of the name of man at all. Many and many a -time did Bennet say that he was paying me a man's wages while I was only -fit for a child's work. Sometimes when carrying burdens with him I would -fall under the weight, and upon seeing this he would discard his own, -run forward, and with arms on hips, wait until I rose from the ground -again. - -"Whoever saw such a thing!" he would say and shake his head. "I thought -that I got a man at the hirin'-fair." He drawled out his words slowly as -if each one gave him pleasure in pronouncing it. He affected a certain -weariness in his tones to me by which he meant to imply that he might, -as a wise man, have been prepared for such incompetency on my part. "I -thought that I had a man! I thought that I had a man!" he would keep -repeating until I rose to my feet. Then he would return to his own -burden and wait until my next stumble, when he would repeat the same -performance all over again. - -Being a Glenmornan man, I held my tongue between my teeth, but the -eternal persecution was wearing me down. By nature being generous and -impulsive, I looked with kindly wonder on everything and everybody. I -loved my brothers and sisters, honoured my father and mother, liked the -neighbours in my own townland, and they always had a kind word for me, -even when working for them at so much a day. But Bennet was a man whom I -did not understand. To him I was not a human being, a boy with an -appetite and a soul. I was merely a ware purchased in the market-place, -something less valuable than a plough, and of no more account than a -barrow. I felt my position from the first. I, to Bennet, represented -five pounds ten shillings' worth of goods bought at the market-place, -and the buyer wanted, as a business man, to have his money's worth. The -man was, of course, within his rights; everybody wants the worth of -their money, and who was I, a boy bought for less than a spavined horse, -to rail against the little sorrows which Destiny imposed upon me? I was -only an article of exchange, something which represented so much amidst -the implements and beasts of the farm; but having a heart and soul I -felt the position acutely. - -I worked hard whenever Bennet remained close by me, but I must admit -that I idled a lot of the time when he was away from my side. Somehow I -could not help it. - -Perhaps I was working all alone on the Dooish Mountain, making rikkles -of peat. There were rag-nails on my fingers, I was hungry and my feet -were sore. I seemed to be always hungry. Potatoes and buttermilk do not -make the best meal in the world, and for six of every seven days they -gave me the heartburn. Sometimes I would stand up and bite a rag-nail -off my finger while watching a hare scooting across the brown of the -moor. Afterwards a fox might come into view, showing clear on the -horizon against the blue of the sky. The pain that came into the small -of my back when stooping over the turf-pile would go away. There was -great relief in standing straight, although Bennet said that a man -should never stand at his work. And there was I, who believed myself a -man, standing over my work like a child and watching foxes and hares -while I was biting the rag-nails off my fingers. No sensible man would -be seen doing such things. - -At one moment a pack of moor-fowl would rise and chatter wildly over my -head, then drop into the heather again. At another a wisp of snipe would -suddenly shoot across the sky, skimming the whole stretch of bogland -almost as quickly as the eye that followed it. Just when I was on the -point of restarting my work, a cast of hawks might come down from the -highest reach of the mountain and rest immovable for hours in the air -over my head. It strains the neck to gaze up when standing. Naturally I -would lie down on my back and watch the hawks for just one little while -longer. Minutes would slip into hours, and still I would lie there -watching the kindred of the wild as they worked out the problems of -their lives in their several different ways. Meanwhile I kept rubbing -the cold moss over my hacked hands in order to drive the pain out of -them. When Bennet came round in the evening to see my day's work he -would stand for a moment regarding the rikkles of peat with a critical -stare. Then he would look at me with pity in his eyes. - -"If yer hands were as eager for work as yer stomach is for food I'd be a -happy master this day," he would say, in a low weary voice. "I once -thought that ye were a man, but such a mistake, such a mistake!" - -Ofttime when working by the stream in the bottomlands, I would lay down -my hay-rake or shearing hook and spend an hour or two looking at the -brown trout as they darted over the white sand at the bottom of the -quiet pools. Sometimes I would turn a pin, put a berry on it and throw -it into the water. I have caught trout in that fashion many a time. -Bennet came across me fishing one day and he gave me a blow on the -cheek. I did not hit him back; I felt afraid of him. Although twelve -years of age, I don't think that I was much of a man after all. If -anybody struck Micky's Jim in such a manner he would strike back as -quickly as he could raise his fist. But I could not find courage to -tighten my knuckles and go for my man. When he turned away from me, my -eyes followed his ungainly figure till it was well out of sight. Then I -raised my fist and shook it in his direction. - -"I'll give you one yet, my fine fellow, that will do for you!" I cried. - -Although I idled when alone in the fields I always kept up my own end of -the stick when working with others. I was a Glenmornan man, and I -couldn't have it said that any man left me behind in the work of the -fields. When I fell under a burden no person felt the pain as much as -myself. A man from my town should never let anything beat him. When he -cannot carry his burden like other men, and better than other men, it -cuts him to the heart, and on almost every occasion when I stumbled and -fell I almost wished that I could die on the bare ground whereon I -stumbled. But every day I felt that I was growing stronger, and when -Lammastide went by I thought that I was almost as strong even as my -master. When alone I would examine the muscles of my arms, press them, -rub them, contract them and wonder if I was really as strong of arm as -Joe Bennet himself. When I worked along with him in the meadowlands and -corn-fields he tried to go ahead of me at the toil; but for all he tried -he could not leave me behind. I was a Glenmornan man, proud of my own -townland, and for its sake and for the sake of my own people and for the -sake of my own name I was unwilling to be left behind by any human -being. "A Glenmornan man can always handspike his own burden," was a -word with the men at home, and as a Glenmornan man I was jealous of my -own town's honour. - -'Twas good to be a Glenmornan man. The pride of it pulled me through my -toil when my bleeding hands, my aching back and sore feet well nigh -refused to do their labour, and that same pride put the strength of -twenty-one into the spine of the twelve-year-old man. But God knows that -the labour was hard! The journey upstairs to bed after the day's work -was a monstrous futility, and often I had hard work to restrain from -weeping as I crawled weakly into bed with maybe boots and trousers still -on. Although I had not energy enough remaining to take off my clothes I -always went on my knees and prayed before entering the bed, and once or -twice I read books in my room even. Let me tell you of the book which -interested me. It was a red-covered volume which I picked up from some -rubbish that lay in the corner of the room, and was called the _History -of the Heavens_. I liked the story of the stars, the earth, the sun and -planets, and I sat by the window for three nights reading the book by -the light of the moon, for I never was allowed the use of a candle. In -those nights I often said to myself: "Dermod Flynn, the heavens are -sending you light to read their story." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A MAN OF TWELVE - - "'Why d'ye slouch beside yer work when I am out o' sight?' - 'I'm hungry, an' an empty sack can never stand upright.'" - - * * * * * - - "'Stoop to yer work, ye idle cub; ye slack for hours on end.' - 'I've eaten far too much the day. A full sack cannot bend.'" - - --From _Farmyard Folly_. - - -About a week after, on the stroke of eleven at night, I was washing -potatoes for breakfast in a pond near the farmhouse. They were now -washed always on the evening before, so that the pigs might get their -meals a little earlier in the morning. Those same pigs were getting -fattened for the Omagh pork market, and they were never refused food. -When they grunted in the sty I was sent out to feed them, when they -slept too long I was sent out to waken them for another meal. Although I -am almost ashamed to say it, I envied those pigs. - -Potato-washing being the last job of the day, I always thought it the -hardest. I sat down beside the basket of potatoes which I had just -washed, and felt very much out of sorts. I was in a far house and a -strange man was my master. I felt a bit homesick and I had a great -longing for my own people. The bodily pain was even worse. My feet were -all blistered; one of my boots pinched my toes and gave me great hurt -when I moved. Both my hands were hacked, and when I placed them in the -water sharp stitches ran up my arms as far as my shoulders. - -I looked up at the stars above me, and I thought of the wonderful things -which I had read about them in the book picked up by me in my bedroom. -There they were shining, thousands upon thousands of them, above my -head, each looking colder and more distant than the other. And nearly -all of them were larger than our world, larger even than our sun. It was -so very hard to believe it. Then my thoughts turned to the God who -fashioned them, and I wondered in the way that a man of twelve wonders -what was the purpose behind it all. Ever since I could remember I had -prayed to God nightly, and now I suddenly thought that all my prayers -were very weak and feeble. Behind His million worlds what thought would -He have for a ragged dirty plodder like me? Were there men and women on -those worlds, and little boys also who were very unhappy? Had the Son of -God come down and died for men on every world of all His worlds? These -thoughts left me strangely disturbed as I sat there on the brink of the -pond beside my basket. Things were coming into my mind, new thoughts -that almost frightened me, and which I could not thrust away. - -As I sat the voice of Bennet came to me. - -"Hi! man, are ye goin' to sit there all night?" he shouted. "Ye're like -the rest of the Donegal cubs, ye were born lazy." - -I carried the potatoes in, placed them beside the hearth, then dragged -myself slowly upstairs to bed. - -"Ye go upstairs like a dog paralysed in the hindquarters," shouted my -boss from the kitchen. - -"Can ye not let the cub a-be?" his mother reproved him, in the aimless -way that mothers reprove grown-up children. - -At the head of the stairs I sat down to take off my boots, for a nail -had passed through the leather and was entering the sole of my right -foot. I was so very tired that I fell asleep when untying the laces. A -kick on the ankle delivered by my master as he came up to bed wakened -me. - -"Hook it," he roared, and I slunk into my room, too weary to resent the -insult. I slid into bed, and when falling asleep I suddenly remembered -that I had not said my prayers. I sat up in my bed, but stopped short -when on the point of getting out. Every night since I could remember I -had knelt by my bedside and prayed, but as I sat there in the bed I -thought that I had very little to pray for. I looked at the stars that -shone through the window, and felt defiant and unafraid and very, very -tired. - -"No one cares for me," I said, "not even the God who made me." I bent -down and touched my ankle. It was raw and bleeding where Bennet's nailed -boot had ripped the flesh. I was too tired to be even angry, and I lay -back on the pillows and fell asleep. - -Morning came so suddenly! I thought that I had barely fallen into the -first sleep when I again heard Bennet calling to me to get up and start -work. I did not answer, and he was silent for a moment. I must have -fallen asleep again, for the next thing that I was aware of was my -master's presence in the room. He pulled me out of bed and threw me on -the floor, and kicked me again with his heavy boots. I rose to my feet, -and, mad with anger, for passion seizes me quickly, I hit him on the -belly with my knee. I put all my strength into the blow, and he got very -white and left the room, holding his two hands to his stomach. He never -struck me afterwards, for I believe that he knew I was always waiting -and ready for him. If he hit me again I would stand up to him until he -knocked me stupid; my little victory in the bedroom had given me so much -more courage and belief in my own powers. In a fight I never know when -I am beaten; even as a child I did not know the meaning of defeat, and I -have had many a hard fight since I left Glenmornan, every one of which -went to prove what I have said. Anyhow, why should a Glenmornan man, and -a man of twelve to boot, know when he is beaten? - -The bat I gave Bennet did not lessen my heavy toil in the fields. On the -contrary, the man kept closer watch over me and saw that I never had an -idle moment. Even my supply of potatoes was placed under restriction. - -Bennet caused me to feed the pigs before I took my own breakfast, and if -a pig grunted while I was eating he would look at me with the eternal -eyes of reproach. - -"Go out and give that pig something more to eat," he would say. "Don't -eat all yerself. I never saw such a greedy-gut as ye are." - -One day I had a good feed; I never enjoyed anything so much in all my -life, I think. A sort of Orange gathering took place in Omagh, and all -the Bennets went. Even the old grizzled man left his seat by the -chimney-corner, and took his place on the spring-cart drawn by the -spavined mare. They told me to work in the fields until they came back, -but no sooner were their backs turned than I made for the house, -intending to have at least one good feed in the six months. I made -myself a cup of tea, opened the pantry door, and discovered a delightful -chunk of currant cake. I took a second cup of tea along with the cake. I -opened the pantry door by inserting a crooked nail in the lock, but I -found that I could not close the door again. This did not deter me from -drinking more tea, and I believe that I took upwards of a dozen cups of -the liquid. - -I divided part of the cake with the dog. I could not resist the soft -look in the eyes which the animal fixed on me while I was eating. Before -I became a man, and when I lived in Glenmornan, I wept often over the -trouble of the poor soft-eyed dogs. They have troubles of their own, and -I can understand their little worries. Bennet's dog gave me great help -in disposing of the cake, and when he had finished the meal he nuzzled -up against my leg, which was as much as to say that he was very thankful -for my kindness to him. I got into trouble when the people of the house -returned. They were angry, but what could they do? Bread eaten is like -fallen rain; it can never be put back in its former place. - -Never for a moment did I dream seriously of going home again for a long, -long while. Now and again I wished that I was back for just one moment, -but being a man, independent and unafraid, such a foolish thought never -held me long. I was working on my own without anyone to cheer me, and -this caused me to feel proud of myself and of the work I was doing. - -Once every month I got a letter from home, telling me about the doings -in my own place, and I was always glad to hear the Glenmornan news. Such -and such a person had died, one neighbour had bought two young steers at -the harvest-fair of Greenanore, another had been fined a couple of -pounds before the bench for fishing with a float on Lough Meenarna, and -hundreds of other little items were all told in faithful detail. - -My thoughts went often back, and daily, when dragging through the turnip -drills or wet hay streaks, I built up great hopes of the manner in which -I would go home to my own people in the years to come. I would be very -rich. That was one essential point in the dreams of my return. I would -be big and very strong, afraid of no man and liked by all men. I would -pay a surprise visit to Glenmornan in the night-time when all the lamps -were lit on both sides of the valley. At the end of the boreen I would -stand for a moment and look through the window of my home, and see my -father plaiting baskets by the light of the hanging lamp. My mother -would be seated on the hearthstone, telling stories to my little -sisters. (Not for a moment could I dream of them other than what they -were when I saw them last.) Maybe she would speak of Dermod, who was -pushing his fortune away in foreign parts. - -And while they were talking the latch of the door would rise, and I -would stand in the middle of the floor. - -"It's Dermod himself that's in it!" they would all cry in one voice. -"Dermod that's just come back, and we were talking about him this very -minute." - -Dreams like these made up a great part of my life in those days. -Sometimes I would find myself with a job finished, failing to remember -how it was completed. During the whole time I was buried deep in some -dream while I worked mechanically, and at the end of the job I was -usually surprised to find such a large amount of work done. - -I was glad when the end of the term drew near. I hated Bennet and he -hated me, and I would not stop in his service another six months for all -the stock on his farm. I would look for a new master in Strabane -hiring-mart, and maybe my luck would be better next time. I left the -farmhouse with a dislike for all forms of mastery, and that dislike is -firmly engrained in my heart even to this day. The covert sneers, the -insulting jibes, the kicks and curses were good, because they moulded my -character in the way that is best. To-day I assert that no man is good -enough to be another man's master. I hate all forms of tyranny; and the -kicks of Joe Bennet and the weary hours spent in earning the first rent -which I ever paid for my people's croft, were responsible for instilling -that hatred into my being. - -I sent four pounds fifteen shillings home to my parents, and this was -given to the landlord and priest, the man I had met six months before -on Greenanore platform and the pot-bellied man with the shiny false -teeth, who smoked ninepenny cigars and paid three hundred pounds for his -lavatory. Years later, when tramping through Scotland, I saw the -landlord motoring along the road, accompanied by his two daughters, who -were about my age. When I saw those two girls I wondered how far the -four pounds fifteen which I earned in blood and sweat in mid-Tyrone went -to decorate their bodies and flounce their hides. I wondered, too, how -many dinners they procured from the money that might have saved the life -of my little brother. - -And as far as I can ascertain the priest lives yet; always imposing new -taxes; shortening the torments of souls in Purgatory at so much a soul; -forgiving sins which have never caused him any inconvenience, and at -word of his mouth sending the peasantry to heaven or to hell. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -OLD MARY SORLEY - - "Do that? I would as soon think of robbing a corpse!" - - --AS IS SAID IN GLENMORNAN. - - -I devoted the fifteen shillings which remained from my wages to my own -use. My boots were well-nigh worn, and my trousers were getting thin at -the knees, but the latter I patched as well as I was able and paid half -a crown to get my boots newly soled. For the remainder of the money I -bought a shirt and some underclothing to restock my bundle, and when I -went out to look for a new master in the slave market of Strabane I had -only one and sevenpence in my pockets. - -I never for a moment thought of keeping all my wages for myself. Such a -wild idea never entered my head. I was born and bred merely to support -my parents, and great care had been taken to drive this fact into my -mind from infancy. I was merely brought into the world to support those -who were responsible for my existence. Often when my parents were -speaking of such and such a young man I heard them say: "He'll never -have a day's luck in all his life. He didn't give every penny he earned -to his father and mother." - -I thought it would be so fine to have all my wages to myself to spend in -the shops, to buy candy just like a little boy or to take a ride on the -swing-boats or merry-go-rounds at the far corner of the market-place. I -would like to do those things, but the voice of conscience reproved me -for even thinking of them. If once I started to spend it was hard to -tell when I might stop. Perhaps I would spend the whole one and -sevenpence. I had never in all my life spent a penny on candy or a toy, -and seeing that I was a man I could not begin now. It was my duty to -send my money home, and I knew that if I even spent as much as one penny -I would never have a day's luck in all my life. - -I had grown bigger and stronger, and I was a different man altogether -from the boy who had come up from Donegal six months before. I had a -fight with a youngster at the fair, and I gave him two black eyes while -he only gave me one. - -A man named Sorley, a big loose-limbed rung of a fellow who came from -near Omagh, hired me for the winter term. Together the two of us walked -home at the close of the evening, and it was near midnight when we came -to the house, the distance from Strabane being eight miles. The house -was in the middle of a moor, and a path ran across the heather to the -very door. The path was soggy and miry, and the water squelched under -our boots as we walked along. The night was dark, the country around -looked bleak and miserable, and very few words passed between us on the -long tramp. Once he said that I should like his place, again, that he -kept a lot of grazing cattle and jobbed them about from one market to -another. He also alluded to another road across the moor, one better -than the one taken by us; but it was very roundabout, unless a man came -in from the Omagh side of the country. - -There was an old wrinkled woman sitting at the fire having a shin heat -when we entered the house. She was dry and withered, and kept turning -the live peats over and over on the fire, which is one of the signs of a -doting person. Her flesh resembled the cover of a rabbit-skin purse that -is left drying in the chimney-corner. - -"Have ye got a cub?" she asked my master without as much as a look at -me. - -"I have a young colt of a thing," he answered. - -"They've been at it again," went on the old woman. "It's the brannat cow -this time." - -"We'll have to get away, that's all," said the man. "They'll soon not be -after leavin' a single tail in the byre." - -"Is it me that would be leavin' now?" asked the old woman, rising to her -feet, and the look on her face was frightful to see. "They'll niver put -Mary Sorley out of her house when she put it in her mind to stay. May -the seven curses rest on their heads, them with their Home Rule and -rack-rint and what not! It's me that would stand barefoot on the red-hot -hob of hell before I'd give in to the likes of them." - -Her anger died out suddenly, and she sat down and began to turn the turf -over on the fire as she had been doing when I entered. - -"Maybe ye'd go out and wash their tails a bit," she went on. "And take -the cub with ye to hould the candle. He's a thin cub that, surely," she -said, looking at me for the first time. "He'll be a light horse for a -heavy burden." - -The man carried a pail of water out to the byre, while I followed -holding a candle which I sheltered from the wind with my cap. - -The cattle were kept in a long dirty building, and it looked as if it -had not been cleaned for weeks. There were a number of young bullocks -tied to the stakes along the wall, and most of these had their tails cut -off short and close to the body. A brindled cow stood at one end, and -the blood dripped from her into the sink. The whole tail had been -recently cut away. - -"Why do you cut the tails off the cattle?" I asked Sorley, as he -proceeded to wash the wound on the brindled cow. - -"Just to keep them short," he said, stealing a furtive glance at me as -he spoke. I did not ask any further questions, but I could see that he -was telling an untruth. At once I guessed that the farm was boycotted, -and that the peasantry were showing their disapproval of some action of -Sorley's by cutting the tails off his cattle. I wished that moment that -I had gotten another master who was on a more friendly footing with his -neighbours. - -When we returned to the house the old woman was sitting still by the -fire mumbling away to herself at the one thing over and over again. - -"Old Mary Sorley won't be hounded out of her house and home if all the -cattle in me byre was without tails," she said in rambling tones, which -now and again rose to a shriek almost. "What would an old woman like me -be carin' for the band of them? Am I not as good as the tenant that was -here before me, him with his talk of rack-rint and Home Rule? Old Mary -Sorley is goin' to stay here till she leaves the house in a coffin." - -The man and I sat down at a pot of porridge and ate our suppers. - -"Don't take any heed of me mother," he said to me. "It's only dramin' -and dotin' that she is." - -Early next morning I was sent out to the further end of the moor, there -to gather up some sheep and take them back to the farmyard. I met three -men on the way, three rough-looking, angry sort of men. One of them -caught hold of me by the neck and threw me into a bog-hole. I was nearly -drowned in the slush. When I tried to drag myself out, the other two -threw sods on top of me. The moment I pulled myself clear I ran off as -hard as I could. - -"This will teach ye not to work for a boycotted bastard," one of them -called after me, but none of them made any attempt to follow. I ran as -hard as I could until I got to the house. When I arrived there I -informed Sorley of all that had taken place, and said that I was going -to stop no longer in his service. - -"I had work enough lookin' for a cub," he said; "and I'm no goin' to let -ye run away now." - -"I'm going anyway," I said. - -"Now and will ye?" answered the man, and he took my spare clothes and -hid them somewhere in the house. My bits of clothes were all that I had -between me and the world, and they meant a lot to me. Without them I -would not go away, and Sorley knew that. I had to wait for three days -more, then I got my clothes and left. - -That happened when old Mary Sorley died. - -It was late in the evening. She was left sitting on the hearthstone, -turning the fire over, while Sorley and I went to wash the tails of the -wounded cattle in the byre. My master had forgotten the soap, and he -sent me back to the kitchen for it. I asked the old woman to give it to -me. She did not answer when I spoke, and I went up close to her and -repeated my question. But she never moved. I turned out again and took -my way to the byre. - -"Have ye got it?" asked my master. - -"Your mother has fainted," I answered. - -He ran into the house, and I followed. Between us we lifted the woman -into the bed which was placed in one corner of the kitchen. Her body -felt very stiff, and it was very light. The man crossed her hands over -her breast. - -"Me poor mother's dead," he told me. - -"Is she?" I asked, and went down on my knees by the bedside to say a -prayer for her soul. When on my knees I noticed where my spare clothes -were hidden. They were under the straw of the bed on which the corpse -was lying. I hurried over my prayers, as I did not take much pleasure in -praying for the soul of a boycotted person. - -"I must go to Omagh and get me married sister to come here and help me -for a couple of days," said Sorley when I got to my feet again. "Ye can -sit here and keep watch until I come back." - -He went out, saddled the pony, and in a couple of minutes I heard the -clatter of hoofs echoing on the road across the moor. In a little while -the sounds died away, and there I was, all alone with the corpse of old -Mary Sorley. - -I edged my chair into the corner where the two walls met, and kept my -eye on the woman in the bed. I was afraid to turn round, thinking that -she might get up when I was not looking at her. Out on the moor a -restless dog commenced to voice some ancient wrong, and its mournful -howl caused a chill to run down my backbone. Once or twice I thought -that someone was tapping at the window-pane behind me, and feared to -look round lest a horrible face might be peering in. But all the time I -kept looking at the white features of the dead woman, and I would not -turn round for the world. The cat slept beside the fire and never moved. - -The hour of midnight struck on the creaky old wag-of-the-wall, and I -made up my mind to leave the place for good. I wanted my clothes which I -had seen under the straw of the kitchen bed. It was an eerie job to turn -over a corpse at the hour of midnight. The fire was almost out, for I -had placed no peat on it since Sorley left for Omagh. A little wind came -under the door and whirled the pale-grey ashes over the hearthstone. - -I went to the bed and turned the woman over on her side, keeping one -hand against the body to prevent it falling back on me. With the other -hand I drew out my clothes, counting each garment until I had them all. -As soon as I let the corpse go it nearly rolled out on the ground. I -could hardly remove my gaze from the cold quiet thing. The eyes were -wide open all the time, and they looked like icy pools seen on a dark -night. I wrapped my garments up in a handkerchief which was hanging from -a nail in the bedstock. The handkerchief was not mine. It belonged to -the dead woman, but she would not need it any more. I took it because I -wanted it, and it was the only wages which I should get for my three -days' work on the farm. While I was busy tying my clothes together the -cat rose from the fireplace and jumped into the bed. I suppose it felt -cold by the dying fire. I thought at the time that it would not be much -warmer beside a dead body. From the back of the corpse the animal -watched me for a few minutes, then it fell asleep. - -I took my bundle in my hand, opened the door, and went out into the -darkness, leaving the sleeping cat and the dead woman alone in the -boycotted house. The night was fine and frosty and a smother of cold -stars lay on the face of the heavens. A cow moaned in the byre as I -passed, while the stray dog kept howling miserably away on the middle of -the moor. I took the path that twisted and turned across the bogland, -and I ran. I was almost certain that the corpse was following me, but I -would not turn and look behind for the world. If you turn and look at -the ghost that follows you, it is certain to get in front, and not let -you proceed any further. So they said in Glenmornan. - -After a while I walked slowly. I had already left a good stretch of -ground between me and the house. I could hear the brown grass sighing on -the verge of the black ponds of water. The wind was running along the -ground and it made strange sounds. Far away the pale cold flames of the -will-of-the-wisp flitted backwards and forwards, but never came near the -fringe of the road on which I travelled. - -I heard the rattle of horse's hoofs coming towards me, and I hid in a -clump of bracken until the rider passed by. I knew that it was Sorley on -his way back from Omagh. There was a woman sitting behind him on the -saddle, and when both went out of sight I ran until I came out on the -high-road. Maybe I walked three miles after that, and maybe I walked -more, but at last I came to a haystack by the roadside. I crept over the -dyke, lay down in the hay and fell asleep, my head resting on my little -bundle of clothes. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A GOOD TIME - - "There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it." - - --MOLESKIN JOE. - - -A watery mid-November sun was peering through a leafless birch tree that -rose near my sleeping-place when I awoke to find a young healthy slip of -a woman looking at me with a pair of large laughing eyes. - -"The top o' the morn to ye, me boy," she said. "Ye're a young cub to be -a beggar already." - -"I'm not a beggar," I answered, getting up to my feet. - -"Ye might be worse now," she replied, making a sort of excuse for her -former remark. "And anyway, it's not a dacent man's bed ye've been lyin' -on all be yerself, me boy." I knew that she was making fun of me, but -for all that I liked the look of her face. - -"Now, where would ye be a-goin' at this time o' the morn?" she asked. - -"That's more than I know myself, good woman," I said. "I have been -working with a man named Sorley, but I left him last night." - -"Matt Sorley, the boycotted man?" - -"The same." - -"Ye'll be a Donegal cub?" - -"That I am," I replied. - -"Ye're a comely lookin' fellow," said the woman. "An' what age may ye -be?" - -"I'll be thirteen come Christmas," I said proudly. - -"Poor child!" said the woman. "Ye should be in yer own home yet. Was old -Mary Sorley good to ye?" - -"She's dead." - -"Under God the day and the night, and d'ye tell me so!" cried the woman, -and she said a short prayer to herself for the soul of Mary Sorley. - -"She was a bad woman, indeed, but it's wrong to speak an ill word of the -dead," my new friend went on when she had finished her prayer. "Now -where would ye be makin' for next?" - -"That's it," I answered. - -For a moment the woman was deep in thought. "I suppose ye'll be lookin' -for a new place?" she asked suddenly. - -"I am that," I said. - -"I have a half-brother on the leadin' road to Strabane, and he wants a -cub for the winter term," said the woman. "I live in the same house -meself and if ye care ye can come and see him, and I meself will put in -a word in yer favour. His name in James MaCrossan, and he's a good man -to his servants." - -That very minute we set out together. We came to the house of James -MaCrossan, and found the man working in the farmyard. He had a good, -strong, kindly face that was pleasant to look upon. His shirt was open -at the front, and a great hairy chest was visible. His arms, bare almost -to the shoulders, were as hairy as the limbs of a beast, and much -dirtier. His shoes were covered with cow-dung, and he stood stroking a -horse as tenderly as if it had been a young child in the centre of the -yard. His half-sister spoke to him about me, while I stood aside with my -little bundle dangling from my arm. When the woman had finished her -story MaCrossan looked at me with good humour in his eyes. - -"And how much wages would ye be wantin'?" he asked. - -"Six pounds from now till May-day," I said. - -The man was no stickler over a few shillings. He took me as a servant -there and then at the wages I asked. - -His farm was a good easy one to work on, he and his sister were very -kind to me, and treated me more like one of themselves than a servant. I -lay abed every morning until seven, and on rising I got porridge and -milk, followed by tea, bread and butter, for breakfast. There was no -lack of food, and I grew fatter and happier. I finished my day's work at -eight o'clock in the evening, and could then turn into bed when I liked. -The cows, sheep, and pigs were under my care, MaCrossan worked with the -horses, while Bridgid, his half-sister, did the house-work and milked -the cows. I did not learn to milk, for that is a woman's job. At least, -I thought so in those days. Pulling the soft udder of a cow was not the -proper job for a man like me. - -One day my master came into the byre and asked me if I could milk. - -"No," I answered. "And what is more I don't want to learn. It is not a -manly job." - -MaCrossan merely laughed, and by way of giving me a lesson in manliness, -he lifted me over his head with one wrench of his arm, holding me there -for at least a minute. When he replaced me on the ground I felt very -much ashamed, but the man on seeing this laughed louder than ever. That -night he told the story to his half-sister. - -"Calls milkin' a job for a woman, indeed!" she exclaimed. "The little -rogue of a cub! if I get hold of him." - -With these words she ran laughing after me, and I ran out of the house -into the darkness. Although I knew she was not in earnest I felt a bit -afraid of her. Three times she followed me round the farmyard, but I -managed to keep out of her reach each time. In the end she returned to -the house. - -"Dermod, come back," she called. "No one will harm ye." - -I would not be caught in such an easy manner, and above all I did not -want the woman to grip me. For an hour I stood in the darkness, then I -slipped through the open window of my bedroom, which was on the ground -floor, and turned into my bed. A few moments afterwards Bridgid came -into the room carrying a lighted candle, and found me under the -blankets. I watched her through the fringe of my eyelashes while -pretending that I was fast asleep. - -"Ha, ye rogue!" she cried. "I have ye now." - -She ran towards me, but still I pretended to be in a deep slumber. I -closed my eyes tightly, but I felt awfully afraid. She drew closer, and -at last I could feel her breath warm on my cheek. But she did not grip -me. Instead, she kissed me on the lips three times, and I was so -surprised that I opened my eyes. - -"Ye little shamer! d'ye think that _that_ is a woman's job too?" she -asked, and with these words she ran out of the room. - -I stayed on the farm for nineteen months, and then, though MaCrossan was -a very good master, I set my mind on leaving him. Day and night the -outside world was calling to me, and something lay awaiting for me in -other lands. Maybe I could make more money in foreign parts, and earn a -big pile for myself and my people. Some day, when I had enough and to -spare, I would do great things. There was a waste piece of land lying -near my father's house in Glenmornan, and my people had set their eyes -on it. I would buy that piece of land when I was rolling in money. Oh! -what would I not do when I got rich? - -About once a month I had a letter from mother. She was not much of a -hand at the pen, and her letters were always short. Most of the time she -wanted money, and I always sent home every penny that I could spare. - -Sometimes I longed to go back again. In a boy's longing way I wanted to -see Norah Ryan, for I liked her well. Her, too, I would remember when I -got rich, and I would make her a great lady. These were some of my -dreams, and they made me hate the look of MaCrossan's farm. Daily I grew -to hate it more, its dirty lanes, the filthy byre, the low-thatched -house, the pigs, cows, horses, and everything about the place. -Everything was always the same, and I was sick of looking at the same -things day after day for all the days of the year. - -My mind was set on leaving MaCrossan, though his half-sister and himself -liked me better than ever a servant was liked before in mid Tyrone. The -thought of leaving them made me uncomfortable, but the voice that called -me was stronger than that which urged me to stay. I had a longing for a -new place, and the longing grew within me day after day. Over the hills, -over the sea, and miles along some dusty road which I had never seen, -some great adventure was awaiting me. Nothing would keep me back, and I -wrote home to my own mother, asking if Micky's Jim wanted any new men to -accompany him to Scotland. Jim was the boss of a potato-digging squad, -and each year a number of Donegal men and women worked with him across -the water. - -Then one fine morning, a week later, and towards the end of June, this -letter came from Micky's Jim himself: - - - "DEAR DERMID, - - "i am riting you these few lines to say that i am very well at - present, hoping this leter finds you in the same state of health. - Well, dear Dermid i am gathering up a squad of men and women to - come and work with me beyont the water to dig potatoes in Scotland. - there is a great lot of the Glenmornan people coming, Tom of the - hill, Neds hugh, Red mick and Norah ryan, Biddy flannery and five - or six more. Well this is to say that if you woud care to come i - will keep a job open for you. Norah ryan, her father was drounded - fishing in Trienna Bay so she is not going to be a nun after all. - If you will come with me rite back and say so. your wages is going - to be sixteen shillings a week accordingley. Steel away from your - master and come to derry peer and meet me there, its on the twenty - ninth of the month that we leave Glenmornan. - - "Yours respectfuly, - - "JIM SCANLON." - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE LEADING ROAD TO STRABANE - - "No more the valley charms me and no more the torrents glisten, - My love is plain and homely and my thoughts are far away; - The great world voice is calling and with throbbing heart I listen, - And I cannot but obey; I cannot but obey." - - --From _Songs of the Dead End_. - - -On the morning of the twenty-ninth of June, 1905, I left Jim -MaCrossan's, and went out to hoe turnips in a field that lay nearly half -a mile away from the farmhouse. I had taken a hoe from a peg on the wall -of the barn, and had thrown it across my shoulder, when MaCrossan came -up to me. - -"See an' don't be late comin' in for yer dinner, Dermod," he said. -"Ye'll know the time be the sun." - -That was his last speech to me, and I was sorry at leaving him, but for -the life of me I could not tell him of my intended departure. There is -no happiness in leaving those with whom we are happy. I liked MaCrossan -more because of his strength than his kindness. Once he carried an anvil -on his back from Lisnacreight smithy to his own farmhouse, a distance of -four miles. When he brought it home I could not lift it off the ground. -He was a wonderful man, powerful as a giant, good and kindly-spoken. I -liked him so much that I determined to steal away from him. I was more -afraid of his regret than I would be of another man's anger. - -I slung the hoe over my shoulder and whistled a wee tune that came into -my head as I plodded down the cart-road that led to the field where the -turnips were. The young bullocks gazed at me over the hedge by the -wayside, and snorted in make-believe anger when I tried to touch their -cold nostrils with my finger-tips. The crows on the sycamore branches -seemed to be very friendly and merry. I could almost have sworn that -they cried, "Good morning, Dermod Flynn," as I passed by. - -The lane was alive with rabbits at every turn. I could see them peering -out from their holes under the blossomed hedgerows with wide anxious -eyes. Sometimes they ran across in front of me, their ears acock and -their white tufts of tails stuck up in the air. I never thought once of -flinging a stone at them that morning; I was out on a bigger adventure -than rabbit-chasing. - -A little way down I met MaCrossan's half-sister, Bridgid. She had just -taken out the cows and was returning to the house after having fastened -the slip rails on the gap of the pasture field. - -"The top o' the mornin' to ye, Dermod," she cried. - -"The same to you," I answered. - -She walked on, but after she had gone a little way, she called back to -me. - -"Will ye be goin' to the dance in McKirdy's barn on Monday come a week?" - -"I will, surely," I replied across my shoulder. I did not look around, -but I could hear the soles of her shoes rustling across the dry clabber -as she continued on her journey. - -The moment I entered the field I flung the hoe into the ditch, and -crossed to the other side of the turnip drills. I put my hand into the -decayed trunk of a fallen tree, and took out a little bundle of clothes -which was concealed there. I had hidden the clothes when I received Jim -Scanlon's letter. I hung the bundle over my arm, and made for the -high-road leading to Strabane. It was nearly three hours' walk to the -town, and the morning was grand. I cut a hazel rod to keep me company, -and swung it round in my hand after the manner of cattle-drovers. I went -on my way with long swinging strides, thinking all the time, not of -Micky's Jim and the Land Beyond the Water, but of Norah Ryan whom I -would see on 'Derry Pier with the rest of the potato squad. - -I could have shouted with pure joy to the people who passed me on the -road. Most of them bade me the time of day with the good-natured -courtesy of the Irish people. The red-faced farmer's boy, who sat on the -jolting cart, stopped his sleepy horse for a minute to ask me where I -was bound for. - -"Just to Strabane to buy a new rake," I told him, for grown-up men never -tell their private affairs to other people. - -"Troth, it's for an early harvest that same rake will be," he said, and -flicked his horse on the withers with his whip. Then, having satisfied -his curiosity, he passed beyond the call of my voice for ever. - -A girl who stood with her back to the roses of a roadside cottage gave -me a bowl of milk when I asked for a drink of water. She was a taking -slip of a girl, with soft dreamy eyes and red cherry lips. - -"Where would ye be goin' now?" she asked. - -"I'm goin' to Strabane." - -"And what would ye be doin' there?" - -"My people live there," I said. - -"It's ye that has the Donegal tongue, and be the same token ye're a -great liar," said the girl, and I hurried off. - -A man gave me a lift on the milk-cart for a mile of the way. "Where are -ye goin'?" he asked me. - -"To Strabane to buy a new spade," I told him. - -"It's a long distance to go for a spade," he said with a laugh. "D'ye -know what I think ye are?" - -"What?" I asked. - -"Ye're a cub that has run away from his master," said the man. "If the -pleece get ye ye'll go to jail for brekin' a contract." - -I slid out of the cart, pulling my bundle after me, and took to my heels -along the dry road. "Wan cannot see yer back for dust," the man shouted -after me, and he kept roaring aloud for a long while. Soon, however, I -got out of the sound of his voice, and I slowed down and recovered my -wind. About fifteen minutes later I overtook an old withered woman, lean -as a rake, who was talking to herself. I walked with her for a long -distance, but she was so taken up with her own troubles that she had not -a word for me. - -"Is it on a day like this," the old body was saying aloud to herself, -"that the birds sing loud on the trees, and the sun shines for all he is -worth in the hollow of the sky, a day when the cruel hand of God strikes -heavy on me heart, and starves the blood in me veins? Who at all would -think that me little Bridgid would go so soon from her own door, and the -fire on her own hearthstone, into the land where the cold of death is -and the darkness? Mother of God! be good to a poor old woman, but it's -bitter that I am, bekase she was tuk away from me, lavin' me alone in me -old age with no wan sib to meself, to sleep under me own roof. Well do I -mind the day when little Bridgid came. That day, my good man Fergus -himself was tuk away from me, but I wasn't as sorry as an old woman -might be for her man, for she was there with the black eyes of her -lookin' into me own and never speakin' a word at all, at all. Then she -grew big, with the gold on her hair, and the redness on her mouth, and -the whiteness of the snow on her teeth. 'Tis often meself would watch -her across the half-door, when she was a-chasin' the geese in the yard, -or pullin' the feathers from the wings of the ducks in the puddle. And -I would say to meself: 'What man will take her away from her old mother -some fine mornin' and lave me lonely be the fire in the evenin'?' And no -man came at all, at all, to take her, and now she's gone. The singin' -birds are in the bushes, and the sun is laughin', the latch of me door -is left loose, but she'll not come back, no matter what I do. So I do be -trampin' about the roads with the sweat on me, and the shivers of cold -on me at the same time, gettin' a handful of meal here, and a goupin of -pratees there, and never at all able to forget that I am lonely without -her." - -I left the woman and her talk behind me on the road, and I thought it a -strange thing that anyone could be sorry when I was so happy. In a -little while I forgot all about her, for my eyes caught the chimneys of -Strabane sending up their black smoke into the air, and I heard some -church clock striking out the hour of noon. - -It was well on in the day when I got the 'Derry train, but on the moment -I set my foot on the pier by the waterside I found Micky's Jim sitting -on a capstan waiting for me. He was chewing a plug of tobacco, and -spitting into the water. - -"Work hasn't done ye much harm, Dermod Flynn, for ye've grown to be a -big, soncy man," was Jim's greeting, and I felt very proud of myself -when he said these words. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE 'DERRY BOAT - - "Bad cess to the boats! for it's few they take back of the many - they take away."--A GLENMORNAN SAYING. - - -Jim and I had a long talk together, and I asked him about the people at -home, my father and mother, the neighbours, their doings, their talk, -and all the rest of the little things that went to make up the world of -the Glenmornan folk. In return for his information I told Jim about my -life in Tyrone, the hardships of Bennet's place, the poor feeding, the -hard work, the loneliness, and, above all, the fight in the bedroom -where I gave Joe Bennet one in the stomach that made him sick for two -hours afterwards. - -"That's the only thing that a Glenmornan man could do," said Micky's -Jim, when I told him of the fight. - -Afterwards we sauntered along the wharf together, waiting for the other -members of the party, who had gone to the Catholic chapel in 'Derry to -say their prayers before leaving their own country. Everything I saw was -a source of wonder to me. I lived many miles from the sea at home, and -only once did I even see a fishing-boat. That was years before, when I -passed Doon Ferry on my way to the Holy Well of Iniskeel. There did I -see the fishing-boats of Trienna lying by the beach while the fishermen -mended their nets on the foreshore. Out by the rim of the deep-sea water -the bar was roaring, and a line of restless creamy froth stretched -across the throat of the bay, like the bare white arms of a girl who -bathes in a darksome pool. I asked one of the fishers if he would let me -go with him across the bar. He only laughed at me and said that it would -suit me far better to say my prayers. - -For the whole of the evening I could not take my eyes off the boats that -lay by 'Derry Pier. Micky's Jim took no notice of them, because he had -seen them often enough before. - -"Ye'll not wonder much at ships when ye've seen them as much as I've -seen them," he said. - -We sought out our own boat, and Jim said that she was a rotten tub when -he had examined her critically with his eyes for a moment. - -"It'll make ye as sick as a dog goin' roun' the Moils o' Kentire," he -said. "Ye'll know what it is to be sea-sick this night, Dermod." - -We went on board, and waited for the rest of the party to come along. -While waiting Jim prowled into the cook's galley and procured two cups -of strong black tea, which we drank together on deck. - -It was, "Under God, the day an' the night, ye've grown to be a big man, -Dermod," and "Ye're a soncy rung o' a fellow this minute, Dermod Flynn," -when the people from my own arm of the Glen came up the deck and saw me -there along with Micky's Jim. Many of the squad were old stagers who had -been in the country across the water before. They planted their patch of -potatoes and corn in their little croft at home, then went to Scotland -for five or six months in the middle of the year to earn money for the -rent of their holding. The land of Donegal is bare and hungry, and -nobody can make a decent livelihood there except landlords. - -The one for whom I longed most was the last to come, and when I saw her -my heart almost stopped beating. She was the same as ever with her soft -tender eyes and sweet face, that put me in mind of the angels pictured -over the altar of the little chapel at home. Her hair fell over her -shawl like a cascade of brown waters, her forehead was white and pure as -marble, her cheeks seemed made of rose-leaf, of a pale carnation hue, -and her fair light body, slender as a young poplar, seemed too holy for -the contact of the cold world. She stepped up the gang-plank, slowly and -timidly, for she was afraid of the noise and shouting of the place. - -The boat's derricks creaked angrily on their pivots, the gangways -clattered loudly as they were shifted here and there by noisy and dirty -men, and the droves of bullocks, fresh from the country fairs, bellowed -unceasingly as they were hammered into the darkness of the hold. On -these things I looked with wonder, Norah looked with fright. - -All evening I had been thinking about her, and the words of welcome -which I would say to her when we met. When she came on deck I put out my -hand, but couldn't for the life of me say a word of greeting. She was -the first to speak. - -"Dermod Flynn, I hardly knew ye at all," she said with a half-smile on -her lips. "Ye got very big these last two years." - -"So did you, Norah," I answered, feeling very glad because she had kept -count of the time I was gone. "You are almost as tall as I am." - -"Why wouldn't I be as tall as ye are," she answered with a full smile. -"Sure am I not a year and two months older?" - -Some of the other women began to talk to Norah, and I turned to look at -the scene around me. The sun was setting, and showed like a red bladder -in the pink haze that lay over the western horizon. The Foyle was a -sheet of wavy molten gold which the boat cut through as she sped out -from the pier. The upper deck was crowded with people who were going to -Scotland to work for the summer and autumn. They were all very ragged, -both women and men; most of the men were drunk, and they discussed, -quarrelled, argued, and swore until the din was deafening. Little heed -was taken by them of the beauty of the evening, and all alone I watched -the vessel turn up a furrow of gold at the bow until my brain was -reeling with the motion of the water that sobbed past the sides of the -steamer, and swept far astern where the line of white churned foam fell -into rank with the sombre expanse of sea that we were leaving behind. - -Many of the passengers were singing songs of harvestmen, lovers, -cattle-drovers, and sailors. One man, a hairy, villainous-looking -fellow, stood swaying unsteadily on the deck with a bottle of whisky in -one hand, and roaring out "Judy Brannigan." - - - "Oh! Judy Brannigan, ye are me darlin', - Ye are me lookin' glass from night till mornin'-- - I'd rather have ye without wan farden, - Than Shusan Gallagheer with her house and garden." - - -Others joined in mixing up half a dozen songs in one musical outpouring, -and the result was laughable in the extreme. - - - "If all the young maidens were ducks in the water, - 'Tis then the young men would jump out and swim after . . " - "I'm Barney O'Hare from the County Clare - I'm an Irish cattle drover, - I'm not as green as ye may think - Although I'm just new-over . . ." - "For a sailor courted a farmer's daughter - That lived convainint to the Isle of Man . . ." - "As beautiful Kitty one mornin' was trippin' - With a pitcher of milk to the fair of Coleraine - And her right fol the dol right fol the doddy, - Right fol the dol, right fol the dee." - - -I could not understand what "right fol the dol," etc., meant, but I -joined in the chorus when I found Micky's Jim roaring out for all he -was worth along with the rest. - -There were many on board who were full of drink and fight, men who were -ready for quarrels and all sorts of mischief. One of these, a man called -O'Donnel, paraded up and down the deck with an open clasp-knife in his -hand, speaking of himself in the third person, and inviting everybody on -board to fistic encounter. - -"This is young O'Donnel from the County Donegal," he shouted, alluding -to himself, and lifting his knife which shone red with the blood hues of -the sinking sun. "And young O'Donnel doesn't care a damn for a man on -this bloody boat. I can fight like a two-year-old bullock. A blow of me -fist is like a kick from a young colt, and I don't care a damn for a man -on this boat. Not for a man on this boat! I'm a Rosses man, and I don't -care a damn for a man on this boat!" - -He looked terrible as he shouted out his threats. One eyebrow was cut -open and the flesh hung down even as far as his cheekbone. I could not -take my eyes away from him, and he suddenly noticed me watching his -antics. Then he slouched forward and hit me on the face, knocking me -down. The next instant Micky's Jim was on top of him, and I saw as if in -a dream the knife flying over the side of the vessel into the sea. Then -I heard my mate shouting, "Take that, you damned brat--and that--and -that!" He hammered O'Donnel into insensibility, and by the time I -regained my feet they were carrying the insensible man below. I felt -weak and dizzy. Jim took me to a seat, and Norah Ryan bathed my cheek, -which was swollen and bleeding. - -"It was a shame to hit ye, Dermod," she said more than once as she -rubbed her soft fingers on the wound. Somehow I was glad of the wound, -because it won such attention from Norah. - -The row between O'Donnel and Jim was only the beginning of a wild -night's fighting. All over the deck and down in the steerage the -harvestmen and labourers fought one with another for hours on end. Over -the bodies of the women who were asleep in every corner, over coils of -ropes, trunks and boxes of clothes, the drunken men struggled like -demons. God knows what they had to quarrel about! When I could not see -them I could hear them falling heavily as cattle fall amid a jumble of -twisted hurdles, until the drink and exertion overpowered them at last. -One by one they fell asleep, just where they had dropped or on the spot -where they were knocked down. - -Towards midnight, when, save for the thresh of the propellers and the -pulsing of the engines, all was silent, I walked towards the stem of the -boat. There I found Norah Ryan asleep, her shawl drawn over her brown -hair, and the rising moon shining softly on her gentle face. For a -moment I kept looking at her; then she opened her eyes and saw me. - -"Sit beside me, Dermod," she said. "It will be warmer for two." - -I sat down, and the girl nestled close to me in the darkness. The sickle -moon drifted up the sky, furrowing the pearl-powdered floor with its -silver front. Far away on the Irish coast I could see the lights in the -houses along-shore. When seated a while I found Norah's hand resting in -mine, and then, lulled with the throb of the engine and the weeping song -of the sea, I fell into a deep sleep, forgetting the horror of the night -and the red wound on my face where O'Donnel had struck me with his fist. - -Dawn was breaking when I awoke. Norah still slept, her head close -against my arm, and her face, beautiful in repose, turned towards mine. -Her cherry-red lips lay apart, and I could see the two rows of pearly -white teeth between. The pink tips of her ears peeped from amid the -coils of her hair, and I placed my hand on her head and stroked her -brown tresses ever so softly. She woke so quietly that the change from -sleeping to waking was hardly noticeable. The traces of dim dreams were -yet in her eyes, and as I watched her my mind was full of unspoken -thoughts. - -"Have ye seen Scotland yet, Dermod?" she asked. - -"That's it, I think," I said, as I pointed at the shoreline visible many -miles away. - -"Isn't it like Ireland." Norah nestled closer to me as she spoke. "I -would like to be goin' back again," she said after a long silence. - -"I'm going to make a great fortune in Scotland, Norah," I said. "And I'm -going to make you a great lady." - -"Why are ye goin' to do that?" she asked. - -"I don't know," I confessed, and the two of us laughed together. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT ASHAMED - - "'Tell the truth and shame the devil,' they say. Well, to tell you - the truth, there are some truths which would indeed shame the - devil!"--MOLESKIN JOE. - - -The potato merchant met us on Greenock quay next morning, and here -Micky's Jim marshalled his squad, which consisted in all of twenty-one -persons. Seventeen of these came from Ireland, and the remainder were -picked up from the back streets of Greenock and Glasgow. With the -exception of two, all the Irish women were very young, none of them -being over nineteen years of age, but the two extra women needed for the -squad were withered and wrinkled harridans picked from the city slums. -These women met us on the quay. - -"D'ye see them?" Micky's Jim whispered to me. "They cannot make a livin' -on the streets, so they have to come and work with us. What d'ye think -of them?" - -"I don't like the look of them," I said. - -The potato merchant hurried us off to Buteshire the moment we arrived, -and we started work on a farm at mid-day. The way we had to work was -this. Nine of the older men dug the potatoes from the ground with short -three-pronged graips. The women followed behind, crawling on their knees -and dragging two baskets a-piece along with them. Into these baskets -they lifted the potatoes thrown out by the men. When the baskets were -filled I emptied the contents into barrels set in the field for that -purpose. These barrels were in turn sent off to the markets and big -towns which we had never seen. - -The first day was very wet, and the rain fell in torrents, but as the -demand for potatoes was urgent we had to work through it all. The job, -bad enough for men, was killing for women. All day long, on their hands -and knees, they dragged through the slush and rubble of the field. The -baskets which they hauled after them were cased in clay to the depth of -several inches, and sometimes when emptied of potatoes a basket weighed -over two stone. The strain on the women's arms must have been terrible. -But they never complained. Pools of water gathered in the hollows of the -dress that covered the calves of their legs. Sometimes they rose and -shook the water from their clothes, then went down on their knees again. -The Glasgow women sang an obscene song, "just by way o' passing the -time," one of them explained, and Micky's Jim joined in the chorus. Two -little ruts, not at all unlike the furrows left by a coulter of a -skidding plough, lay behind the women in the black earth. These were -made by their knees. - -We left off work at six o'clock in the evening, and turned in to look up -our quarters for the night. We had not seen them yet, for we started -work in the fields immediately on arriving. A byre was being prepared -for our use, and a farm servant was busily engaged in cleaning it out -when we came in from the fields. He was shoving the cow-dung through a -trap-door into a vault below. The smell of the place was awful. There -were ten cattle stalls in the building, five on each side of the raised -concrete walk that ran down the middle between two sinks. These stalls -were our sleeping quarters. - -The byre was built on the shoulder of a hillock and the midden was -situated in a grotto hollowed underneath; its floor was on a level with -the cart-road outside, and in the corner of this vault we had to build a -fire for cooking our food. A large dung-hill blocked the entrance, and -we had to cross this to get to the fire which sparkled brightly behind. -Around the blaze we dried our sodden clothes, and the steam of the -drying garments rose like a mist around us. - -One of the strange women was named Gourock Ellen, which goes to show -that she had a certain fame in the town of that name. The day's drag had -hacked and gashed her knees so that they looked like minced flesh in a -butcher's shop window. She showed her bare knees, and was not in the -least ashamed. I turned my head away hurriedly, not that the sight of -the wounds frightened me, but I felt that I was doing something wrong in -gazing at the bare leg of a woman. I looked at Norah Ryan, and the both -of us blushed as if we had been guilty of some shameful action. Gourock -Ellen saw us, and began to sing a little song aloud: - - - "When I was a wee thing and lived wi' my granny, - Oh! it's many a caution my granny gi'ed me, - She said: 'Now be wise and beware o' the boys, - And don't let the petticoats over your knee.'" - - -When she finished her verse she winked knowingly at Micky's Jim, and, -strange to say, Jim winked back. - -We boiled a pot of potatoes, and poured the contents into a wicker -basket which was placed on the floor of the vault. Then all of us sat -down together and ate our supper like one large family, and because we -were very hungry did not mind the reeking midden behind us. - -During our meal an old bent and wrinkled man came hobbling across the -dung-heap towards the fire. His clothing was streaming wet and only held -together by strings, patches, and threads. He looked greedily towards -the fire, and Gourock Ellen handed him three hot potatoes. - -"God bless ye," said the man in a thin piping voice. "It's yerself that -has the kindly heart, good woman." - -He ate hurriedly like a dog, as if afraid somebody would snatch the -bread from between his jaws. He must have been very hungry, and I felt -sorry for the man. I handed him the can of milk which I had procured at -the farmhouse, and he drank the whole lot at one gulp. - -"It's yerself that is the dacent youngster, God bless ye!" he said, and -there were tears in his eyes. "And isn't this a fine warm place ye are -inside of this wet night." - -The smell of the midden was heavy in my nostrils, and the smoke of the -fire was paining my eyes. - -"It's a rotten place," I said. - -"Sure and it's not at all," said the man in a pleading voice. "It's -better than lyin' out under a wet hedge with the rain spat-spatterin' on -yer face." - -"Why do you lie under a hedge?" I asked. - -"Sure, no one wants me at all, at all, because of the pain in me back -that won't let me stoop over me work," said the man. "In the farms they -say to me, 'Go away, we don't want ye'; in the village they say, 'Go -away, we're sick of lookin' at ye,' and what am I to do? Away in me own -country, that is Mayo, it's always the welcome hand and a bit and sup -when a man is hungry, but here it's the scowling face and the ill word -that is always afore an old man like me." - -One by one the women went away from the fire, for they were tired from -their day's work and wanted to turn into bed as early as possible. The -old man sat by the fire looking into the flames without taking any heed -of those around him. Jim and I were the last two to leave the fire, and -my friend shook the old man by the shoulder before he went out. - -"What are ye goin' to do now?" asked Jim. - -"Maybe ye'd let me sleep beside the fire till the morra mornin'," said -the man. - -"Ye must go out of here," said Jim. - -"Let him stay," I said, for I felt sorry for the poor old chap. - -Jim thought for a minute. "Well, I'll let him stay, cute old cadger -though he is," he said, and the both of us went into the byre leaving -the old man staring dreamily into the flames. - -One blanket apiece was supplied to us by the potato merchant, and by -sleeping two in a bed the extra blanket was made to serve the purpose of -a sheet. We managed to make ourselves comfortable by sewing bags -together in the form of a coverlet and placing the make-shift quilts -over our bodies. - -"Where is Norah Ryan?" asked Micky's Jim, as he finished using his -pack-needle on the quilts which he was preparing for our use. Jim and I -were to sleep in the one stall. - -Norah Ryan was not to be seen, and I went out to the fire to find if she -was there. From across the black midden I looked into the vault which -was still dimly lighted up by the dying flames, and there I saw Norah -speaking to the old man. She was on the point of leaving the place, and -I saw some money pass from her hand to that of the stranger. - -"God be good to ye, decent girl," I heard the man say, as Norah took her -way out. I hid in the darkness and allowed her to pass without seeing -me. Afterwards I went in and gave a coin to the old man. He still held -the one given by Norah between his fingers, and it was a two-shilling -piece. Probably she had not another in her possession. What surprised me -most was the furtive way in which she did a kindness. For myself, when -doing a good action, I like everybody to notice it. - -In the byre there was no screen between the women and the men. The -modesty of the young girls, when the hour for retiring came around, was -unable to bear this. The strange women did not care in the least. - -The Irish girls sat by their bedsides and made no sign of undressing. I -slid into bed quietly with my trousers still on; most of the men -stripped with evident unconcern, nakedly and shamelessly. - -"The darkness is a good curtain if the women want to take off their -clothes," said Micky's Jim, as he extinguished the only candle in the -place. He re-lit a match the next moment, and there was a hurried -scampering under the blankets in the stalls on the other side of the -passage. - -"That's a mortal sin, Micky's Jim, that ye're doin'," said Norah Ryan, -and the two strange women laughed loudly as if very much amused at -persons who were more modest than themselves. - -"Who are ye lyin' with, Norah Ryan? Is it Gourock Ellen?" asked my -bedmate. - -"It is," came the answer. - -"D'ye hear that, Dermod--a nun and a harridan in one bed?" said Jim -under his breath to me. - -Outside the raindrops were sounding on the roof like whip-lashes. Jim -spoke again in a drowsy voice. - -"We're keepin' some poor cows from their warm beds to-night," he said. - -I kept awake for a long while, turning thoughts over in my mind. The -scenes on the 'Derry boat, and my recent experience in the soggy fields, -had taken the edge off the joy that winged me along the leading road to -Strabane. I was now far out into the heart of the world, and life loomed -darkly before me. The wet day went to crush my dreams and the ardour of -my spirits. Hitherto I had great belief in women, their purity, virtue, -and gentleness. But now my grand dreams of pure womanhood had collapsed. -The foul words, the loose jokes and obscene songs of the two women who -were strangers, the hard, black, bleeding and scabby knees that Gourock -Ellen showed to us at the fire had turned my young visions into -nightmares. The sight of the girls ploughing through the mucky clay, -and the wolfish stare of the old man who envied those who fed beside a -dungheap were repellent to me. I looked on life in all its primordial -brutishness and found it loathsome to my soul. - -Only that morning coming up the Clyde, when Norah and I looked across -the water to a country new to both of us, my mind was full of dreams of -the future. But the rosy-tinted boyish dreams of morning were shattered -before the fall of night. Maybe the old man who lay by the dung-heap -came to Scotland full of dreams like mine. Now the spirit was crushed -out of him; he was broken on the wheel of life, and he had neither -courage to rob, sin, nor die. He could only beg his bit and apologise -for begging. The first day in Scotland disgusted me, made me sick of -life, and if it were not that Norah Ryan was in the squad I would go -back to Jim MaCrossan's farm again. - -That night, as for many nights before, I turned into bed without saying -my prayers, and I determined to pray no more. I had been brought up a -Catholic, and to believe in a just God, and the eternal fire of -torments, but daily newer and stranger thoughts were coming into my -mind. Even when working with MaCrossan in the meadowlands my mind -reverted to the little book in which I read the story of the heavens. -God behind His million worlds had no time to pay any particular -attention to me. This thought I tried to drive away, for the Church had -still a strong hold on me, and anything out of keeping with my childish -creed entered my mind like a nail driven into the flesh. The new -thoughts, however, persisted, they took form and became part of my -being. The change was gradual, for I tried desperately to reject the new -idea of the universe and God. But the sight of the women in the fields, -the story of the old man with the pain in his back who slept under a wet -hedge was to me conclusive proof that God took no interest in the -personal welfare of men. And when I gripped the new idea as -incontestable truth it did not destroy my belief in God. Only the God of -my early days, the God who took a personal interest in my welfare, was -gone. - -Sometimes the rest of the Catholic members of the squad went to chapel, -when the farm on which we wrought was near a suitable place of worship, -but I never went. Their visits were few and far between, for we were -distant from the big towns most of the time. - -We seldom stopped longer than one fortnight at a time on any farm. We -shifted about here and there, digging twenty acres for one farmer, ten -for another, living in byres, pig-stys and barns, and taking life as we -found it. Daily we laboured together, the men bent almost double over -their graips, throwing out the potatoes to the girls who followed after, -dragging their bodies through the mire and muck like wounded animals, -and I lifted the baskets of potatoes and filled the barrels for market. -Still, for all the disadvantages, life was happy enough to me, because -Norah Ryan was near me working in the fields. - -But the life was brutal, and almost unfit for animals. One night when we -were asleep in a barn the rain came through the roof and flooded the -earthen floor to a depth of several inches. Our beds being wet through, -we had to rise and stand for the remainder of the night knee-deep in the -cold water. - -When morning came we went out to work in the wet fields. - -Once when living in a pig-sty we were bothered by rats. When we were at -work they entered our habitation, ransacked the packets of food, gnawed -our clothes, and upset everything in the place. They could only get in -by one entrance, a hole in the wall above my bed, and by that same way -they had to go out. After a little while the rats became bolder and came -in by night when we were asleep. One night I awoke to find them jumping -down from the aperture, landing on my body in their descent. Then they -scampered away and commenced prowling around for food. I counted twenty -thuds on my breast, then stuck my trousers in the throat of the opening -above my bed and wakened Jim, who snored like a hog through it all. We -got up and lit a candle. When the rats saw the light they hurried back -to their hole, but we were ready and waiting for them, Micky's Jim with -a shovel shaft, and I with a graip shank. We killed them as they came, -all except one, which ran under the bed-clothes of Norah Ryan's bed. -There was great noise of screaming for a while, but somehow or another -Gourock Ellen got hold of the animal and squeezed it to death under the -blankets. I left my trousers in the aperture all night, and they were -nibbled almost to pieces in the morning. They were the only ones in my -possession, and I had to borrow a pair from Jim for the next day. - -The farmer gave us a halfpenny for every rat's tail handed in, as he -wanted to get rid of the pests, and from that time forward Jim and I -killed several, and during the remainder of the season we earned three -pounds between us by hunting and killing rats. Gourock Ellen sometimes -joined in the hunt, by way of amusement, but her principal relaxation -was getting drunk on every pay-day. - -The other woman, whose name was Annie, usually accompanied her on -Saturday to the nearest village, and the two of them got full together. -They also shared their food in common, but often quarrelled among -themselves over one thing and another. They fought like cats and swore -awfully, using the most vile language, but the next moment they were the -best of friends again. One Saturday night they returned from a -neighbouring village with two tramp men. Micky's Jim chased the two men -away from the byre in which we were living at the time. - -"I'll have no whorin' about this place," he said. - -"You're a damned religious beast to be livin' in a cowshed," said one of -the tramps. - -One day Gourock Ellen asked me who did my washing, though I believe that -she knew I washed my own clothes with my own hands. - -"Myself," I said in reply to Ellen's inquiry. - -"Will yer own country girls not do it for you?" - -"I can do it myself," I replied. - -When I looked for my soiled under-garments a week later I could not find -them. I made inquiries and found that Gourock Ellen had washed them for -me. - -"It's a woman's work," she said, when I talked to her, and she washed my -clothes to the end of the season and would not accept payment for the -work. - -Nearly everyone in the squad looked upon the two women with contempt and -disgust, and I must confess that I shared in the general feeling. In my -sight they were loathsome and unclean. They were repulsive in -appearance, loose in language, and seemingly devoid of any moral -restraint or female decency. It was hard to believe that they were young -children once, and that there was still unlimited goodness in their -natures. Why had Gourock Ellen handed the potatoes to the old Mayo man -who was hungry, and why had she undertaken to do my washing without -asking for payment? I could not explain these impulses of the woman, and -sometimes, indeed, I cannot explain my own. I cannot explain why I then -disliked Gourock Ellen, despite what she had done for me, and to-day I -regret that ignorance of youth which caused me to despise a human being -who was (as after events proved) infinitely better than myself. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE MAN WITH THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK - - "He would gamble on his father's tombstone and play banker with the - corpse."--A KINLOCHLEVEN PROVERB. - - -The middle of September was at hand, and a slight tinge of brown was -already showing on the leaves. We were now working on a farm where the -River Clyde broadens out to the waters of the deep ocean. One evening, -when supper was over, I went out alone to the fields and sat down on the -green sod and looked outwards to the grey horizon of the sea. Beside me -ran a long avenue of hazel bushes, and a thrush was singing on a near -bough, his amber and speckled bosom quivering with the passion of his -song. The sun had already disappeared, trailing its robe of carmine from -off the surface of the far water, and an early star was already keeping -its watch overhead. All at once the bushes of the hazel copse parted and -Norah Ryan stood before me. - -"Is it here that ye are, Dermod, lookin' at the sea?" - -"I was looking at the star above me," I replied. - -Norah had discarded her working clothes, and now wore a soft grey tweed -dress that suited her well. Together we looked up at the star, and then -my eyes fell on the sweet face of my companion. In the shadow of her -hair I could see the white of her brow and the delicate and graceful -curve of her neck. Her brown tresses hung down her back even as far as -her waist, and the wind ruffled them ever so slightly. Somehow my -thoughts went back to the June seaweed rising and falling on the long -heaving waves of Trienna Bay. She noticed me looking at her, and she sat -down on the sod beside me. - -"Why d'ye keep watchin' me?" she asked. - -"I don't know," I answered in a lame sort of way, for I am not good at -making excuses. I was afraid to tell her that I liked the whiteness of -her brow, the softness of her hair, and the wonderful glance of her -eyes. No doubt she would have laughed at me if I did. - -"Do you mind the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked. "All that night -when you were asleep, I had your hand in mine." - -"I mind it very well." - -As she spoke she closed her fingers over mine and looked at me in the -eyes. The glance was one of a moment; our gaze met and the next instant -Norah's long lashes dropped slowly and modestly over the grey depths of -her eyes. There was something strange in that look of hers; it was the -glance of a soul which did not yet know itself, full of radiant -awakening and wonderful promise. In it was all the innocence of the -present and passion of the future; it was the glance both of a virgin -and a woman. We both trembled and looked up at the stars that came out -one by one into the broad expanse of heaven. The thrush had gone away, -and a little wind played amongst the branches of the trees. In the -distance we could hear the water breaking on the foreshore with a -murmurous plaint that was full of longing. We kept silence, for the -spell of the night was too holy to be broken by words. How long we -remained there I do not know, but when we returned to the byre all the -rest of the party were in bed. Next night I waited for her in the same -place and she came again, and for many nights afterwards we watched the -stars coming out while listening to the heart song of the sea. - -One wet evening, early in October, when Norah and I were sitting by the -fire in the cart-shed that belonged to a farmer near Greenock, talking -to Micky's Jim about Glenmornan and the people at home, a strange man -came to the farmyard. Although a stranger to me, Micky's Jim knew the -fellow very well, for he belonged to a neighbouring village, was a noted -gambler, and visited the squad every year. He sat down and warmed his -hands at the fire while he looked critically at the members of the squad -who had come in to see him. - -"Have ye the devil's prayer book with ye?" asked Jim. - -"That I have," answered the man, drawing a pack of cards from his -pocket. "Will we have a bit o' the Gospel o' Chance?" - -The body of a disused cart was turned upside down, and six or seven men -belonging to the squad sat around it and commenced to gamble for money -with the stranger. For a long while I watched the play, and at last put -a penny on a card and won. I put on another penny and another and won -again and again, for my luck was good. It was very interesting. We -gambled until five o'clock in the morning and at the finish of the game -I had profited to the extent of twenty-five shillings. During the game I -had eyes for nothing else; the women had gone to bed, but I never -noticed their departure, for my whole mind was given up to the play. All -day following I looked forward to the evening and the return of the man -with the devil's prayer book, and when he came I was one of the first to -give a hand to turn the disused cart upside down. The farmer's son, Alec -Morrison, a strong, well-knit youth, barely out of his teens, came in to -see the play and entered into conversation with Norah Ryan. He worked as -a bank clerk in Paisley, but spent every week-end at his father's farm. -He was a well-dressed youth; wore boots which were always clean, and a -gold ring with a blue stone in the centre of it shone on one of his -fingers. I took little heed of him, for my whole being was centred on -the game and my luck was good. - -"Come Hallow E'en I'll have plenty of money to take home to Glenmornan," -I said to myself, more than once, for on the second night I won over -thirty shillings. - -The third night was against me--the third time, the gambler's own!--and -afterwards I lost money every night. But I could not resist the call of -the cards, the school fascinated me, and the sight of a winner's -upturned "flush" or "run" set my veins on fire. So I played night after -night and discussed the chances of the game day after day, until every -penny in my possession was in the hands of the man with the devil's -prayer book. Before I put my first penny on a card I had seven pounds in -gold, which I intended to take home to my people in Glenmornan. Now it -was all gone. Gourock Ellen offered me ten shillings to start afresh, -but I would not accept her money. Norah Ryan took no interest in the -game, her whole attention was now given up to the farmer's son, and it -was only when I had spent my last penny that I became aware of the fact. -He came in to see her every evening and passed hour after hour in her -company. I did not like this; I felt angry with her and with myself, and -I hated the farmer's son. I had many dreams of a future in which Norah -would play a prominent part, but now all my dreams were dashed to -pieces. Although outwardly I showed no trace of my feelings I felt very -miserable. Norah took no delight in my company any more, all her spare -time was given up to Alec Morrison. The cards did not interest me any -longer. I hated them, and considered that they were the cause of my -present misfortune. If I had left them alone and paid more attention to -Norah she would not have taken so much pleasure in the other man's -company. - -I nursed my mood for a fortnight, then I turned to the cards again and -lost all the money in my possession. On the first week of November, -when the squad broke up, I had the sum of twopence in my pocket. On the -evening prior to the day of the squad's departure, I came suddenly round -the corner of the hayshed by the farmhouse and saw a very curious thing. -Norah was standing there with the farmer's son and he was kissing her. I -came on the two of them suddenly, and when Norah saw me she ran away -from the man. - -I had never thought of kissing Norah when she was alone with me. It was -a very curious thing to do, and it never entered into my mind. Perhaps -if I had kissed her when we were together she would like me the more for -it. Why I should kiss her was beyond my reasoning. All I knew was that I -longed for Norah with a great longing. I was now discouraged and -despondent. I felt that I had nothing to live for in the world. -To-morrow the rest of the party would go away to their homes with their -earnings and I would be left alone. I could not think for a moment of -going home penniless. I would stay in Scotland until I earned plenty of -money, and go home a rich man. I had not given up thoughts of becoming -rich. A hundred pounds to me was a fortune, fifty pounds was a large -amount, and twenty pounds was a sum which I might yet possess. If I -lived long enough I might earn a whole twenty, or maybe fifty pounds. I -had heard of workers who had earned as much. For the whole season I had -only sent two pounds home to my own people, while I spent seven on the -cards. I played cards because I wanted to make a bigger pile. Now I had -but twopence left in my possession! - -The squad broke up next day, and Norah Ryan had hardly a word to say to -me when bidding good-bye, but she had two hours to spare for -leave-taking with Morrison, who, although it was now the middle of the -week, a time when he should be at business in the bank, had come to -spend a day on the farm. No doubt he had come to bid Norah good-bye. -Micky's Jim was going home to Ireland, and Gourock Ellen and Annie said -that they were going to Glasgow to get drunk on their last week's pay. - -It was afternoon when the party broke up and set out for the railway -station, and a heavy snow was lying on the ground. I got turned out of -the byre by the farmer when the rest went off, and I found myself in a -strange country, houseless, friendless, and alone. - -The road lay behind me and before me, and where was I to turn? This was -the question that confronted me as I went out, ragged and shivering, -into the cold snow with nothing, save twopence, between me and the cold -chance charity of the world. A man can't get much for twopence. While -working there was byre or pig-sty for shelter; when idle I was not worth -the shelter of the meanest roof in the whole country. I walked along, my -mind confused with various thoughts, and certain only of one thing. I -must look for work. But God alone knew how long it would be until I got -a job! I was only a boy who thought that he was a man, and it was now -well into early winter. There was very little work to be done at that -season of the year on farms or, indeed, anywhere. A man might get a job; -a boy had very little chance of finding employment. My clothes were -threadbare, my boots were leaking, and the snow was on the ground. I -felt cold and lonely and a little bit tired of life. - -Suddenly I met Gourock Ellen, and it came to me that I was travelling -towards the station. I thought that the woman was returning for -something which she had forgotten, but I was mistaken. - -"I came back tae see you, Dermod," she said. - -"Why?" I asked in surprise. - -"I thought up tae the very last minute that you were goin' hame till -Ireland, but Jim Scanlon has tellt me at the station that you are goin' -tae stop here. He says that you have ower a pound in siller. Is that -so?" - -"That's so," I lied, for I disliked to be questioned in such a manner. I -told Jim that I had a pound in my possession. Otherwise he would have -prevailed upon me to accept money from himself. But I am too proud to -accept a favour of that kind. - -"I've been watchin' you at the cards, Dermod, and I know the kin' o' -luck you had," said Gourock Ellen. "Ye'll hardly have yin penny left at -this very minute. Six shillin's, half of my last week's pay, would d'you -no harm, if you'd care to take it." - -"I don't want it," I said. - -"Then you don't know what it is to fast for hours on end, to get turned -away from every door with kicks and curses, and to have the dogs of the -country put after your heels." - -"I don't want your money," I said, for I could not accept money from -such a woman. - -"I liked you from the first time I saw you, gin that I am a bad woman -itself," she said, as if divining my thoughts. "And I dinna like to see -you goin' out on the cauld roads with not a copper in your pockets. I'm -auld enough to be your----" - -Her cheeks gave the faintest suspicion of a blush, and she stopped -speaking for just a second, leaving the last word, which no doubt she -intended to speak, unuttered on her tongue. - -"You can have half of my money if you want it, and if you like you can -come with me tae Glesga, and I'll find you a bed and bite until you get -a job." - -"I'm not going to Glasgow," I said, for it was not in my heart to go -into the one house with that woman. I could not explain my dislike for -her company, but I preferred the cold night and the snow to the bed and -bite which she promised me. - -"Well, you can take the couple o' shillin's anyway," she persisted; -"they'll do you no ill." - -"I don't want your money," I said for the third time. - -"'Twas earned decently, anyway," she said. "I canna see why you'll no -take it. Will you bid me good-bye, Dermod?" - -She put out her hand to me as she spoke, and I pressed it warmly, for in -truth I was glad to get rid of her. Suddenly she reached forward and -kissed me on the cheek; then hurried away, leaving me alone on the -roadway. The woman's kiss disconcerted me, and I suddenly felt ashamed -of my coldness towards her. She was kind-hearted and considerate, and I -was a brute. I looked after her. When she would turn round I would call -to her to stop, and I would go with her to Glasgow. The thought of -spending the night homeless on the bleak road frightened me. She reached -the corner of the road and went out of my sight without ever turning -round. I looked at the two coppers which I possessed, and wondered why I -hadn't taken the money which Gourock Ellen offered me. I also wondered -why she had kissed me. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -PADDING IT - - "A nail in the sole of your bluchers jagging your foot like a pin, - And every step of the journey driving it further in; - Then out on the great long roadway, you'll find when you go abroad, - The nearer you go to nature, the further you go from God." - - --_A Song of the Dead End_. - - -Out on tramp, homeless in a strange country, with twopence in my pocket! -The darkness lay around me and the snow was white on the ground. -Whenever I took my hands out of my pockets the chill air nipped them -like pincers. One knee was out through my trousers, and my boots were -leaking. The snow melted as it came through the torn uppers, and I could -hear the water gurgling between my toes as I walked. When I passed a -lighted house I felt a hunger that was not of the belly kind. I came to -the village of Bishopton, and went into a little shop, where I asked for -a pennyworth of biscuits. The man weighed them in scales that shone like -gold, and broke one in halves to make the exact weight. - -"There's nothin' like fair measure, laddie," he said. - -"Is there any chance of a man getting a job about this district?" I -asked. - -"What man?" said the shopkeeper. - -"Me," I said. - -"Get out, ye scamp!" roared the man. "It would be better for you to go -to bed instead of tryin' to take a rise out of yer betters." - -"You are an old pig!" I shouted at the man, for I did not like his way -of speaking, and disappeared into the darkness. I ate the biscuits, but -felt hungrier after my meal than I was before it. - -The night was calm and deadly cold. Overhead a very pale moon forged its -way through a heaven of stars. On such a night it is a pleasure to sit -before a nice warm fire on a well-swept hearth. I had no fire, no home, -no friends; nothing but the bleak road and the coldness. I kept walking, -walking. I knew that it would be unwise to sit down: perhaps I would -fall asleep and die. I did not want to die. It was so much better to -walk about on the roads of a strange country in which there was nobody -to care what became of me; no one except an old harridan, and she was -far away from me now. The love of life was strong within me, for I was -very young, and never did I cling closer to life than I did at that -moment when it was blackest. My thoughts went to the future and the good -things which might lie before me. - -"I'll get a job yet," I said to myself. "I'll walk about until I meet -somebody who needs me. Then I'll grow up in years and work among men, -maybe getting a whole pound a week as my pay. A pound a week is a big -wage, and it will amount to a lot in a year. I will pay ten shillings a -week for my keep in some lodging-house, as Micky's Jim had done when he -worked on Greenock pier, and I will save the other half-sovereign. Ten -shillings a week amounts to twenty-six pounds a year. In ten years I -shall save two hundred and sixty pounds. Such a big lump-sum of money! -Two hundred and sixty pounds! - -"It will be hard to keep a wife on a pound a week, but I will always -remain single, and send my money home to my own people. If I don't, I'll -never have any luck. I will never gamble again. Neither will I marry, -for women are no earthly use, anyway. They get old, wrinkled, and fat -very quickly. They are all alike, every one of them." - -I found my thoughts wandering from one subject to another like those of -a person who is falling asleep. Anyhow, I had something to live for, so -I kept walking, walking on. - -I was in the open country, and I did not know where the road was leading -to, but that did not matter. I was as near home in one place as in -another. - -From one point of the sky, probably the north, I saw the clouds rising, -covering up the stars, and at last blotting the moon off the sky as a -picture is wiped off a slate. It was more dismal than ever when the moon -and stars were gone, for now I was alone with the night and the -darkness. I could hear the wind as it passed through the telegraph wires -by the roadside. It was a weeping wind, and put me in mind of the breeze -calling down the chimney far away at home in Glenmornan. - -A low bent man came out of the darkness and shuffled by. "It looks like -snow," he said, in passing. - -"It does," I replied. I could not see his face, but his voice was -kindly. He shuffled along. Perhaps he was going home to a warm supper -and bed. I did not know, and I wondered who the man was. - -Suddenly the snow from the darkness above drifted down and my clothes -were white in an instant. My bare knee became very cold, for the flakes -melted on it as they fell. The snow ran down my legs and made me shiver. -I took off my muffler and tied it around the hole in my trousers to -prevent the snowflakes from getting in. I felt wearied and cold, but -after a while I got very angry. I got angry, not with myself, but with -the wind, the snow, my leaky boots and ragged clothes. I was angry with -the man who carried the devil's prayer book, and also with the man who -broke a biscuit in two because he was an honest body and a believer in -fair measure. Perhaps I ought to have been angry with myself, for did I -not spend all my money at the card school, and was it not my own fault -that now I had only one penny in my possession? If I had saved my money -like Micky's Jim I would have now eight or nine pounds in my pocket. - -Suddenly the snow cleared, and my eyes fell on a farmhouse hardly a -stone's-throw away from the road. Thinking that I might get a shed to -lie in I went towards it. There was no light showing in the house and it -must have been long after midnight. As I approached a dog ran at me -yelping. I turned and fled, but the dog caught my trousers and hung on, -trying to fasten his teeth in my leg. I twisted round and swung him -clear, then lifted my boot and aimed a blow at the animal which took him -on the jaw. His teeth snapped together like a trap, and he ran back -squealing. I took to my heels and returned to the road. From there I saw -a light in the farmhouse, so I ran quicker than ever. I was frightened -at what I had done; I had committed a crime in looking for a night's -shelter along with the beasts of the byre. I could not get sleeping with -men; I was not a man. I could not get sleeping in a shed; I was not even -a brute beast. I was merely a little boy who was very hungry, ragged, -and tired. - -I ran for a long distance, and was sweating all over when I stopped. I -stood until I got cool, then continued my walking, walking through the -darkness. I was still walking when the day broke cold and cheerless. I -met a navvy going to his work and I asked him for a penny. He had no -money, but he gave me half of the food which he had brought from home -for his daily meal. - -On the outskirts of Paisley I went to the door of a mansion to ask for a -penny. A man opened the door. He was a fat and comfortable-looking, -round-paunched fellow. He told me to get off before the dog was put -after me. I hurried off, and forsook the big houses afterwards. - -Once in Paisley I sat down on a kerbstone under the Caledonian Railway -Bridge in Moss Street. I fell asleep, and slept until a policeman woke -me up. - -"Go away from here!" he roared at me. I got away. - -A gang of men were laying down tramway rails on the street and I went -forward and asked the overseer for a job. He laughed at me for a minute, -then drew his gang around to examine me. - -"He's a fine bit o' a man," said one. - -"He's shouthered like a rake," said another. - -Discomfited and disgusted I hurried away from the grinning circle of -men, and all day long I travelled through the town. I soon got tired of -looking for work, and instead I looked for food. I was very -unsuccessful, and youth is the time for a healthy appetite. I spent my -last penny on a bun, and when it was dark I got a crust from a night -watchman who sat in a little hut by the tram-lines. About midnight I -left the town and went into the country. The snow was no longer falling, -but a hard frost had set in. About two o'clock in the morning I lay down -on the cold ground utterly exhausted, and fell asleep. When dawn came I -rose, and shivering in every limb I struck out once more on my journey. -I looked for work on the farms along the road, but at every place I was -turned away. - -"Go back to the puirs' house," said every second or third farmer. - -I went to one farmhouse when the men were coming out from dinner. - -"Are you lookin' for a job?" asked a man, whom I took to be master. - -"I am," I answered. - -"Then give us a hand in the shed for a while," he said. - -I followed the party into a large building where implements were -stored, and the men gathered round a broken reaper which had to be taken -out into the open. - -"Help us out with this," said the farmer to me. - -There were six of us altogether, and three went to each side of the -machine and caught hold of it. - -"Now, lift!" shouted the farmer. - -The men at the other side lifted their end, but ours remained on the -ground despite all efforts to raise it. - -"Damn you, lift!" said my two mates angrily to me. - -I put all my energy into the work, but the cold and hunger had taken the -half of my strength away. We could not lift the machine clear of the -ground. The farmer got angry. - -"Get out of my sight, you spineless brat!" he roared to me, and I left -the farmyard. When I came to the high-road again there were tears in my -eyes. They were tears of shame; I was ashamed of my own weakness. - -For a whole week afterwards I tramped through the country, hating all -men, despised by everyone, and angry with my own plight. A few gave me -food, some cursed me from their doors, and a great number mocked me as I -passed. "Auld ragged breeks!" the children of the villages cried after -me. "We're sick o' lookin' at the likes o' you!" the fat tubs of women, -who stood by their cottage doors, said when I asked them for something -to eat. Others would say: "Get out o' our sight, or we'll tell the -policeman about you. Then you'll go to the lock-up, where you'll only -get bread and water and a bed on a plank." - -Such a dreadful thing! It shocked me to think of it, and for a while I -always hurried away when women spoke in such a manner. However, in the -end, suffering caused me to change my opinions. A man with an empty -stomach may well prefer bread and water to water, a bed on a plank to a -bed on the snow, and the roof of a prison to the cold sky over him. So -it was that I came into Paisley again at the end of the week and asked a -policeman to arrest me. I told him that I was hungry and wanted -something to eat. The man was highly amused. - -"You must break the law before the king feeds you," he said. - -"But I have been begging," I persisted. - -"If you want me to arrest you, break a window," said the man. "Then I'll -take you before a bailie and he'll put you into a reformatory, where -they'll give you a jail-bird's education. You'll come out worse than you -went in, and it's ten to one in favour of your life ending with a hempen -cravat round your neck." - -The man put his hand in his pocket and took out a sixpence, which he -handed to me. - -"Run away now and get something to eat," he shouted in an angry voice, -and I hurried away hugging the silver coin in my hand. That night I got -twopence more, and fed well for the first time in a whole week. - -I met the policeman once again in later years. He was a Socialist, and -happened to have the unhealthy job of protecting blacklegs from a crowd -of strikers when I met him for the second time. While pretending to keep -the strikers back he was urging them to rush by him and set upon the -blacklegs--the men who had not the backbone to fight for justice and -right. Not being, as a Socialist, a believer in charity, he feigned to -be annoyed when I reminded him of his generous action of years before. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MOLESKIN JOE - - "Soft words may win a woman's love, or soothe a maiden's fears. - But hungry stomachs heed them not--the belly hasn't ears." - - --From _The Maxims of Moleskin Joe_. - - -That night I slept in a watchman's hut on the streets, and in the -morning I obtained a slice of bread from a religious lady, who gave me a -long harangue on the necessity of leading a holy life. Afterwards I went -away from Paisley, and out on the road I came upon a man who was walking -along by himself. He was whistling a tune, and his hands were deep in -his trousers' pockets. He had knee-straps around his knees, and a long -skiver of tin wedged between one of the straps and the legs of his -trousers, which were heavy with red muck frozen on the cloth. The cloth -itself was hard, and rattled like wood against the necks of his boots. -He was very curiously dressed. He wore a pea-jacket, which bore marks of -the earth of many strange sleeping-places. A grey cap covered a heavy -cluster of thick dark hair. But the man's waistcoat was the most -noticeable article of apparel. It was made of velvet, ornamented with -large ivory buttons which ran down the front in parallel rows. Each of -his boots was of different colour; one was deep brown, the other dark -chrome; and they were also different in size and shape. - -In later years I often wore similar boots myself. We navvies call them -"subs." and they can be bought very cheaply in rag-stores and -second-hand clothes-shops. One boot has always the knack of wearing -better than its fellow. The odd good boot is usually picked up by a -rag-picker, and in course of time it finds its way into a rag-store, -where it is thrown amongst hundreds of others, which are always ready -for further use at their old trade. A pair of odd boots may be got for a -shilling or less, and most navvies wear them. - -The man's face was strongly boned and fierce of expression. He had not -shaved for weeks. His shoulders were broad, and he stood well over six -feet in height. At once I guessed that he was very strong, so I liked -the man even before I spoke to him. - -"Where are you for?" he asked when I overtook him. - -"God knows," I answered. "Where are you for?" - -"Christ knows," he replied, and went on with the tune which he had left -off to question me. - -When he had finished whistling he turned to me again. - -"Are you down and out?" he asked. - -"I slept out last night," I answered. - -"The first time?" he enquired. - -"I slept out for a whole week." - -"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," he -said, by way of consolation. "Had you anything to eat this mornin'?" - -"A slice of bread," I said; then added, "and a lot of advice along with -it from an old lady." - -"Damn her advice!" cried the man angrily. "The belly hasn't ears. A -slice of bread is danged mealy grub for a youngster." - -He stuck his hand in the pocket of his pea-jacket and drew out a chunk -of currant bread, which he handed to me. - -"Try that, cully," he said. - -I ate it ravenously, for I was feeling very hungry. - -"By cripes! you've a stomach," said my companion, when I had finished -eating. "Where are you for, anyhow?" - -"I don't know. I'm looking for work." - -"It's not work you need; it's rest," said the stranger. - -"You've been working," I replied, looking at his covering of muck. "Why -don't you clean your trousers and shoes?" - -"If you were well fed you'd be as impudent as myself," said the man. -"And clean my trousers and shoes! What's the good of being clean?" - -"It puts the dirt away." - -"It does not; it only shifts it from one place to another. And as to -work--well, I work now and again, I'm sorry to say, although I done all -the work that a man is put into the world to do before I was twenty-one. -What's your name?" - -"Dermod Flynn. What's yours?" - -"Joe--Moleskin Joe, my mates calls me. Have you any tin?" - -"Twopence," I replied, showing the man the remainder of the eightpence -which I had picked up the night before. - -"You're savin' up your fortune," he said with fine irony. "I haven't a -penny itself." - -"Where did you get the currant cake?" I asked. - -"Stole it." - -"And the waistcoat?" - -"Stole it," said the man, and then continued with thinly-veiled sarcasm -in his voice. "My name's Moleskin Joe, as I've told you already. I don't -mind havin' seen my father or mother, and I was bred in a workhouse. I'm -forty years of age--more or less--and I started work when I was seven. -I've been in workhouse, reformatory, prison, and church. I went to -prison of my own free will when the times were bad and I couldn't get a -mouthful of food outside, but it was always against my will that I went -to church. I can fight like hell and drink like blazes, and now that you -know as much about my life as I know myself you'll maybe be satisfied. -You're the most impudent brat that I have ever met." - -The man made the last assertion in a quiet voice, as if stating a fact -which could not be contradicted. I did not feel angry or annoyed with -the man who made sarcastic remarks so frankly and good-humouredly. For a -long while I kept silence and the two of us plodded on together. - -"Why do you drink?" I asked at last. - -"Why do I drink?" repeated the man in a voice of wonder. "Such a funny -question! If God causes a man to thirst He'll allow him to drink, for -He's not as bad a chap as some of the parsons make Him out to be. Drink -draws a man nearer to heaven and multiplies the stars; and 'Drink when -you can, the drouth will come' is my motto. Do you smoke or chew?" - -He pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket, bit a piece from the end of -it, and handed the plug to me. Now and again I had taken a whiff at -Micky's Jim's pipe, and I liked a chew of tobacco. Without answering -Moleskin's question I took the proffered tobacco and bit a piece off it. - -"There's some hope for you yet," was all he said. - -We walked along together, and my mate asked a farmer who was standing by -the roadside for a few coppers to help us on our way. - -"Go to the devil!" said the farmer. - -"Never mind," Moleskin remarked to me when we got out of hearing. -"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it in this -world." - -Afterwards we talked of many things, and Joe told me of many adventures -with women who were not good and men who were evil. When money was -plentiful he lived large and drank between drinks as long as he was -able to stand on his feet. - -The man impressed me, and, what was most wonderful, he seemed to enjoy -life. Nights spent out in the cold, days when hardly a crust of food was -obtainable, were looked upon as a matter of course by him. - -"Let us live to-day, if we can, and the morrow can go be damned!" he -said, and this summed up the whole of his philosophy as far as I could -see. It would be fine to live such a life as his, I thought, but such a -life was not for me. I had my own people depending on my earnings, and I -must make money to send home to Glenmornan. If I had a free foot I would -live like Joe, and at that moment I envied the man who was born in a -workhouse and who had never seen a father or mother. - -A lot of events took place on the road. Passing along we overtook a -dour-faced man who carried a spade over his shoulder. - -"He's goin' to dig his own grave," said Moleskin to me. - -"How do you know?" I asked. - -"Well, I'd like to know how a man is goin' to live long if he works on a -day like this!" - -Just as we came up to him a young woman passed by and gave us an -impudent glance, as Moleskin called it. She was good to look at and had -a taking way with her. As she went by the man with the spade turned and -looked after her. - -"Did ye see that woman?" he asked Moleskin when we came abreast. - -"By God, I'm not blind!" said my friend. - -"Dinna sweer," said the man with the spade. "'Tis an evil habit." - -"'Tisn't a habit," said Joe. "'Tis a gift." - -"'Tis a gift frae the deevil," replied the other man. "A gift frae the -deevil, that's what it is. 'Tis along with that woman that ye should be, -though God forgi'e me for callin' her a woman, for her house is on the -way tae Sheol goin' doon tae the chambers of death. I wadna talk tae her -wi' muckle mooth sine she be a scarlet woman with a wily heart." - -"What are you jawin' about?" asked Moleskin, who seemed at a loss what -to make of the man with the spade, while for myself I did not in the -least understand him. - -"Have you a sixpence?" asked Joe suddenly. - -"A sixpence?" queried the man. "Gin that I hae, what is it tae ye?" - -"If you have a sixpence you should have given it to that woman when she -was passin'. She's a lusty wench." - -"Gi'e a sixpence to that woman!" replied the stranger. "I wadna do it, -mon, if she was lyin' for death by the roadside. I'm a Chreestian." - -"I would give up your company in heaven for hers in hell any day," said -Moleskin, as the man with the spade turned into a turnip field by the -roadside. "And never look too much into other people's faults or you're -apt to forget your own!" roared Joe, by way of a parting shot. - -"Don't you think that I had the best of that argument?" Joe asked me -five minutes later. - -"What was it all about?" I asked. - -"I don't know what he was jawin' at half of the time," said Joe. "But -his talk about the Christian was a damned good hit against me. However, -I got in two good hits myself! The one about her company in hell and the -one about lookin' too much into other people's faults were a pair up for -me. I think that I did win, Flynn, and between me and you I never like -to get the worst of either an argument or a fight." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MOLESKIN JOE AS MY FATHER - - "The opinions of a man who argues with his fist are always - respected."--MOLESKIN JOE. - - -About midday we met a red-faced farmer driving a spring-cart along the -road. - -"Where are you bound for?" he called to me as he reined up his pony. - -"What the hell is it to you?" asked Moleskin, assuming a pugilistic pose -all of a sudden. Love of fighting was my mate's great trait, and I found -it out in later years. He would fight his own shadow for the very fun of -the thing. "The man who argues with his fist is always respected," he -often told me. - -"I'm lookin' for a young lad who can milk and take care of beasts in a -byre," replied the man nervously, for Joe's remark seemed to have -frightened him. "Can the youngster milk?" - -"I can," I answered gleefully. I had never caught hold of a cow's teat -in my life, but I wanted work at all costs, and did not mind telling a -lie. A moment before I was in a despondent mood, seeing nothing in front -of me but the life of the road for years to come, but now, with the -prospect of work and wages before me, I felt happy. Already I was -forming dreams of the future, and my mind was once more turning to the -homecoming to Glenmornan when I became a rich man. A lot of my dreams -had been dashed to pieces already, but I was easily captured and made -the slave of new ones. Also, there was a great deal of my old pride -slipping away. There was a time when I would not touch a cow's teat, but -the Glenmornan pride that looked down upon such work was already gone. - -"Milk!" cried Moleskin in answer to the last remark of the farmer. "You -should see my son under a cow! He's the boy for a job like that, you'll -find. What wages are you goin' to offer him?" - -"Ten pounds from now till May-day, if he suits," replied the farmer. - -"He'll suit you all right," said Joe. "But he'll not go with you for one -penny less than eleven pounds." - -"I'll take ten pounds, Moleskin," I cried. I did not want to sleep -another night on the cold ground. - -"Hold your blessed jaw," growled my mate. Then he turned to the farmer -again and went on: - -"Eleven pounds and not one penny less. Forbye, you must give me -something for lettin' him go with you, as I do not like to lose the -child." - -After a great deal of haggling, during which no notice was taken of me, -a bargain was struck, the outcome of which was that I should receive the -sum of ten guineas at the end of six months spent in the employ of the -farmer. My "father" received five shillings, paid on the nail, because -he allowed me to go to work. - -"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," said -Joe, as he shoved the silver into his pocket and cast a farewell glance -at me as I climbed into the cart. I caught my mate's square look for a -minute. In the left eye a faint glimmer appeared and the eyelid slowly -descended. Then he bit a piece off the end of his plug, started -whistling a tune and went on his way. - -The farmer set the young cob at a gallop, and in about a quarter of an -hour we arrived at his place, which was called Braxey Farm. When -evening came round my master found that I could not milk. - -"You'll learn," he said, not at all unkindly, and proceeded to teach me -the correct way in which to coax a cow's udder. In a fortnight's time I -was one of the best milkers in the byre. - -Just off the stable I had a room to sleep in, an evil-smelling and dirty -little place crammed with horses' harness and agricultural implements. -But after the nights spent on the snow I thought the little room and the -bed the most cosy room and bed in the world. I slept there all alone, -and by night I could hear the horses pawing the floor of the stable, and -sometimes I was wakened by the noise they made and thought that somebody -had gotten into my room. - -I started work at five o'clock in the morning and finished at seven in -the evening, and when Sunday came round I had to feed the ploughman's -horses in addition to my ordinary work. - -I liked the place in a negative sort of way; it was dull and depressing, -but it was better than the life of the road. Now and again I got a -letter from home, and my people were very angry because I had sent so -little money to them during the summer months. For all that, I liked to -get a letter from home, and I loved to hear what the people whom I had -known since childhood were doing. On the farm there was no one to speak -to me or call me friend. The two red-cheeked servant girls who helped me -at the milking hardly ever took any notice of me, a kid lifted from the -toll-road. They were decent ploughmen's daughters, and they let me know -as much whenever I tried to become familiar. After all, I think they -liked me to speak to them, for they could thus get an excuse to dwell on -their own superior merits. - -"Workin' wi' a lad picked off the roads, indeed! Whoever heard of such -a thing for respectable lassies!" they exclaimed. - -Even the ploughman who worked on the farm ignored me when he was out of -temper. When in a good humour he insulted me by way of pastime. - -"You're an Eerish pig!" he roared at me one evening. - -I am impulsive, and my temper, never the best, was becoming worse daily. -When angry I am blind to everything but my own grievance, and the -ploughman's taunt made me angrier than ever I had been in my life -before. He had just come into the byre where the girls and I were -milking. He was a married man, but he loved to pass loose jokes with the -two young respectable lassies, and his filthy utterances amused them. - -Although the ploughman was a big hardy fellow, his taunt angered me, and -made me blind to his physical advantages. I rushed at him head down and -butted him in the stomach. He flattened out in the sink amidst the -cow-dung, and once I got him down I jumped on him and rained a shower of -blows on his face and body. The girls screamed, the cows jumped wildly -in the stalls, and we were in imminent danger of getting kicked to -death. So I heard later, but at that moment I saw nothing but the face -which was bleeding under my blows. The ploughman was much stronger than -I, and gripping me round the waist he turned me over, thus placing me -under himself. I struggled gamely, but the man suddenly hit my head -against the flagged walk and I went off in a swoon. When I came to -myself, the farmer, the two girls, and the ploughman were standing over -me. - -I struggled to my feet, rushed at the man again, and taking him by -surprise I was able to shove him against one of the cows in the stall -nearest him. The animal kicked him in the leg, and, mad with rage, he -reached forward and gripped me by the throat with the intention of -strangling me. But I was not afraid; the outside world was non-existent -to me at that moment, and I wanted to fight until I fell again. - -The farmer interposed. We were separated and the ploughman left the -byre. That night I did not sleep; my anger burned like a fire until -dawn. The next day I felt dizzy and unwell, but that was the only evil -result of the fight. The ploughman never spoke to me again, civilly or -otherwise, and I was left in peace. - -From start to finish the work on Braxey Farm was very wearisome, and the -surroundings were soul-killing and spiritless. By nature I am sensitive -and refined. A woman of untidy appearance disgusts me, a man who talks -filthily without reason is utterly repellent to me. The ploughman with -his loose jokes I loathed, the girls I despised even more than they -despised me. Their dislike was more affected than real; my dislike was -real though less ostentatious. It gave me no pleasure to tell a dirty -slut that she was dirty, but a dirty woman annoyed me in those days. I -could not imagine a man falling in love with one of those women, with -their short, inelegant petticoats and hobnailed shoes caked with the -dried muck of the farmyard. I could not imagine love in the midst of -such filth, such squalid poverty. But I did not then understand the -meaning of love; to me it was something which would exist when Norah -Ryan became a lady, and when I had a grand house wherein to pay her -homage. I am afraid that my knowledge of life was very small. - -The talk of the two girls gave me the first real insight into love and -all that it cloaks with the false covering of poetical illusion. Every -poetical ideal, every charm and beauty which I had associated with love -was dispelled by the talk of those two women. For a while I did not -believe the things of which they spoke. My mind revolted. The ploughman -and the two girls continued their disgusting anecdotes. I did my best -not to listen. Knowing that I hated their talk the servants would -persist in talking, and every particle of information collected by them -was in course of time given to me. - -My outlook on life became cynical and sour. I was a sort of outcast -among men, liking few and liked by none. When the end of the season came -I was pleased to get clear of Braxey Farm; the more familiar I became -with the people the more I disliked them. The farmer paid me nine -pounds, and explained that he retained the other thirty shillings -because he had to learn me how to milk. - -"Your feyther was a great liar," he added. - -Out of my wages I sent seven pounds home to Glenmornan and kept the -remainder for my own use, as I did not know when I could get a next job. -My mother sent me a letter that another brother was born to me--the -second since I left home--and asking me for some more money to help them -along with the rent. But my disposition was changing; my outlook on life -was becoming bitter, and I hated to be slave to farmers, landlords, -parents, and brothers and sisters. Every new arrival into the family was -reported to me as something for which I should be grateful. "Send home -some more money, you have another brother," ran the letters, and a sense -of unfairness crept over me. The younger members of the family were -taking the very life-blood out of my veins, and on account of them I had -to suffer kicks, snubs, cold and hunger. New brothers and sisters were -no pleasure to me. I rebelled against the imposition and did not answer -the letter. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -ON THE DEAD END - - "He tramped through the colourless winter land or swined in the - scorching heat, - The dry skin hacked on his sapless hands or blistering on his feet; - He wallowed in mire, unseen, unknown where your houses of pleasure - rise, - And hapless hungry and chilled to the bone he builded the edifice." - - --From _A Song of the Dead End_. - - -In this true story, as in real life, men and women crop up for a moment, -do something or say something, then go away and probably never reappear -again. In my story there is no train of events or sequence of incidents -leading up to a desired end. When I started writing of my life I knew -not how I would end my story; and even yet, seeing that one thing -follows another so closely, I hardly know when to lay down my pen and -say that the tale is told. Sometimes I say, "I'll write my life up to -this day and no further," but suddenly it comes to me that to-morrow may -furnish a more fitting climax, and so on my story runs. In fiction you -settle upon the final chapter before you begin the first, and every -event is described and placed in the fabric of the story to suit an end -already in view. A story of real life, like real life itself, has no -beginning, no end. Something happens before and after; the first chapter -succeeds another and another follows the last. The threads of a made-up -story are like the ribs of an open umbrella, far apart at one end and -joined together at the other. You close the umbrella and it becomes -straight; you draw the threads of the story together at the end and the -plot is made clear. Emanating as it does from the mind of a man or -woman, the plot is worked up so that it arouses interest and compels -attention. Such an incident is unnecessary; then dispense with it. Such -a character is undesirable; then away with him. Such a conversation is -unfitting; then substitute one more suitable. But I, writing a true -story, cannot substitute imaginary talk for real, nor false characters -for true, if I am faithful to myself and the task imposed upon me when I -took to writing the story of my life. No doubt I shall have some readers -weak enough to be shocked by my disclosures; men and women, who like -ascetic hermits, fight temptation by running from it, and avoid sin by -shutting their eyes to it. But these need not be taken into account, -their weakness is not worthy of attention. I merely tell the truth, -speak of things as I have seen them, of people as I have known them, and -of incidents as one who has taken part in them. Truth needs no -apologies, frankness does not deserve reproof. I write of the ills which -society inflicts on individuals like myself, and when possible I lay -every wound open to the eyes of the world. I believe that there is an -Influence for Good working through the ages, and it is only by laying -our wounds open that we can hope to benefit by the Influence. Who -doctors the wounds which we hide from everybody's eyes? - -It was beautiful weather and the last day of May, 1906, when I left -Braxey Farm and took to the road again. I obtained work, before night -fell, on an estate in the vicinity. The factor, a pompous man with a -large stomach, gave me the job; and I got lodgings with a labourer who -worked on the estate. My pay was eighteen shillings a week, and I -stopped a fortnight. At the end of that period I got sacked. This was -how it happened. - -Two men, a fat man and a fatter, came to the spot where I was working -on the estate grounds. The fat man was the factor. - -"Are you working here?" asked the fat man. - -"Yes," I answered. - -"'Yes, sir,' you mean," said the fatter man. - -"I mean 'yes,'" I said. The man looked overbearing, and he annoyed me. - -"I'm the master of this place," said the fatter man. "You must address -me as 'sir' when speaking to me." - -A fat man looks awfully ridiculous with his big stomach, his short -breath, and short legs. An ugly man may look dignified; a gargoyle may -even possess the dignity of unrivalled ugliness, but a fat man with a -red face who poses as a dignified being is very funny to see. I never -raise my hat to any man, and I was not going to say "sir" to the blown -bubble in front of me. - -"You had better say 'sir,'" said the factor. "This gentleman is your -master." - -The word "master" is repellent to me. - -"Sir be damned!" I snapped out. - -"Pay him off this evening," was all that gentleman said; and that -evening I was on the road again. - -Afterwards I kept mucking about on farms and other places, working a day -here and a week there, earning a guinea clear at one job and spending it -while looking for the next. Sometimes I tramped for days at a time, -sleeping in haysheds, barns and ditches, and "bumming my grub," as we -tramps say, from houses by the roadside. Often in the darkness of the -night I lit my little fire of dried sticks under shelter of a rock or -tree, and boiled my billy of tea in the red flames. Then I would fall -asleep while looking at the pictures in the embers, and my dreams would -take me back again to Glenmornan and the road that led from Greenanore -to my home on the steep hillside of Donegal. Often and often I went -home to my own people in my nightly dreams. When morning came I would -set out again on my journey, leaving nothing to tell of my passing but -the ashes of my midnight fire. I had nothing to cheer me, no hopes, no -joys, no amusements. It was hard to obtain constant employment; a farmer -kept me a fortnight, a drainer a week, a roadmender a day, and -afterwards it was the road, the eternal, soul-killing road again. When I -had money I spent it easily; spending was my nearest approach to -pleasure. When I had aught in my purse I lived in suspense, thinking of -the time when all would be spent, but when the coin was gone I had the -contentment of a man who knows that he can fall no lower. Always, -however, I sought for work; I wanted something to do. My desire to -labour became a craze, an obsession, and nothing else mattered if I got -plenty of work to do. - -"You are an idle, useless-lookin' lump o' a man," the women in roadside -cottages said to me. "Why don't you work?" Looking for work meant -laziness and idleness to them. For me they felt all the contempt which -people with fixed abodes feel for vagabonds. They did not hate me; of -that I was not worthy. They were very human, which is the worst that can -be said of them, and they despised me. Work was scarce; I looked light -and young, and a boy is not much good to a farmer. Yet for my age I was -very strong, and many a man much older than myself I could work blind, -if only I got the chance. But no one seemed to want me. "Run away, -little impudence, and hide behind your big sister's petticoats!" were -the words that I was greeted with when I asked for a job. - -For a whole month I earned my living by gathering discarded metal from -the corporation middens near Glasgow and selling the scrap to -proprietors of the city rag-stores. Starvation has hold of the forelock -of a man who works at that job. Sometimes I made tenpence a day. By -night I slept on the midden, or, to be more exact, in the midden. I dug -a little hole in the warm refuse sent out from the corporation stables, -and curled myself up there and went to sleep, somewhat after the manner -of Job of old. Once a tipster employed me to sell his tips outside the -enclosure of Ayr racecourse. I gave up that job quickly, for I could -only earn sixpence a day. During the end of the summer I made a few -shillings by carrying luggage for passengers aboard the steamer at -G---- Pier, but in the end the porters on the quay chased me away. I was -depriving decent men of their livelihood, they said. - -About this time I met Tom MacGuire, a countryman of my own, an -anarchist, a man with great courage, strength, and love of justice. Tom -said that all property was theft, all religion was fraud, and a life -lacking adventure was a life for a pig. He had just come out of jail -after serving six months' hard because he shot the crow[4] in a Greenock -public-house. I met him on the roadside, where he was sitting reading an -English translation of some of Schopenhauer's works. We sat down -together and talked of one thing and another, and soon were the best of -friends. I told Tom the story of the man who wanted me to say "Yes, -sir," when speaking to him. - -"I have a job on that man's place to-night," said Tom. "Will you come -and give me a hand?" - -"What is the job?" I asked. - -Tom lowered the left eyelid slightly as I looked at him. That was his -only answer. I guessed instinctively that Tom's job was a good one, and -so I promised to accompany him. - -We worked together on that estate not only that night, but for some -weeks afterwards. Operations started at midnight and finished at four -o'clock in the morning. We stopped in Paisley, and we went into the town -in the morning, each on a different route, and sold the proceeds of our -night's labour. At the end of a fortnight, or, to be exact, fifteen -days' work on the estate, Tom was accosted by two policemen as he was -going into Paisley. His belly looked bigger than any alderman's, and no -wonder! When searched he had three pheasants under his waistcoat. -Because of that he got six months, and the magistrate spoke hard things -against Tom's character. For all that, my mate was a sound, good fellow. -In a compact made beforehand it was understood that if one was gripped -by the law he would not give his comrade away, and Tom was good to his -word when put to the test. From that time forward I forsook poaching. I -loved it for its risks alone, but I was not an adept at the art, and I -could never make a living at the game. I felt sorry for poor Tom and I -have never seen him since. - -Once, eighteen months after I had left Braxey Farm, I wrote home to my -own people. I was longing to hear from somebody who cared for me. In -reply an angry letter came from my mother. "Why was I not sending home -some money?" she asked. Another child had come into the family and there -were many mouths to fill. I would never have a day's luck in all my life -if I forgot my father and mother. I was working with a drainer at the -time and I had thirty shillings in my possession. This I sent home, but -not with a willing heart, for I did not know when I would be idle again. -Three days later my mother wrote asking me to send some more money, for -they were badly needing it. I did not answer the letter, for I got -sacked that evening, and I went out on the road again with five -shillings in my pocket and new thoughts in my head, thoughts that had -never come there before. - -Why had my parents brought me into the world? I asked myself. Did they -look to the future? At home I heard them say when a child was born to -such and such a person that it was the will of God, just as if man and -woman had nothing to do with the affair. I wished that I had never been -born. My parents had sinned against me in bringing me into the world in -which I had to fight for crumbs with the dogs of the gutter. And now -they wanted money when I was hardly able to keep myself alive on what I -earned. Bringing me into the world and then living on my labour--such an -absurd and unjust state of things! I was angry, very angry, with myself -and with everyone else, with the world and the people on it. - -The evening was wet; the rain came down heavily, and I got drenched to -the skin. While wandering in the town of Kilmacolm, my eye caught the -light of a fire through the window-blind of an inn parlour. It would be -very warm inside there. My flesh was shivery and my feet were cold, like -lumps of ice, in my battered and worn boots. I went in, sat down, and -when the bar-tender approached me, I called for a half-glass of whisky. -I did not intend to drink it, having never drunk intoxicating liquor -before, but I had to order something and was quite content to pay -twopence for the heat of the fire. It was so very comfortable there that -I almost fell asleep three or four times. Suddenly I began to feel -thirsty; it seemed as if I was drying up inside, and the glass of -whisky, sparkling brightly as the firelight caught it, looked very -tempting. I raised it to my mouth, just to wet my lips, and the whisky -tasted good. Almost without realising what I was doing I swallowed the -contents of the glass. - -At that moment a man entered, a man named Fergus Boyle, who belonged to -the same arm of the Glen as myself, and he was then employed on a farm -in the neighbourhood. I was pleased to see him. I had not seen a -Glenmornan man since I had left Micky's Jim's squad, but Fergus brought -no news from home; he had been in Scotland for over five years without a -break. Without asking me, he called for "two schooners[5] of beer, with -a stick[6] in iviry wan of them." - -"Don't pull the hare's foot,[7] for I don't drink, Fergus," I said. I -did not want to take any more liquor. I could hardly realise that I had -just been drinking a moment before, the act being so unpremeditated. I -came into the inn parlour solely to warm myself, and thinking still of -that more than anything else I could hardly grasp what had resulted. I -had a great dislike in my heart for drunken men, and I did not want to -become one. Fergus sniffed at the glass beside me and winked knowingly. -Evidences were against my assertion, and if I did not drink with Fergus -he would say that I did not like his company. He was the first -Glenmornan man whom I had seen for years, and I could not offend him. -When the bar-tender brought the drinks I drained the schooner at one -gulp, partly to please Fergus and partly because I was very dry. I stood -treat then myself, as decency required, and my remembrance of subsequent -events is very vague. In a misty sort of way I saw Fergus putting up his -fists, as a Glenmornan man should when insulted, and knocking somebody -down. There was a scuffle afterwards and I was somehow mixed up in it -and laying out round me for all I was worth. - -Dawn was breaking when I found myself lying on the toll-road, racked by -a headache and suffering from extreme thirst. It was still raining and -my clothes were covered with mud; one boot was gone and one sleeve of my -coat was hanging by a mere thread. I found the sum of sevenpence in my -pockets--the rest of the money had disappeared. I looked round for -Fergus, but could not see him. About a hundred paces along the road I -came on his cap and I saw the trace of his body in the wet muck. -Probably he had slept there for a part of the night and crept away when -the rain brought him to his senses. I looked high and low for my lost -boot, but could not find it. I crept over the wall surrounding a cottage -near the road and discovered a pair of boots in an outhouse. I put them -on when I came back to the road and threw my own old one away. The pain -in my head was almost intolerable, and my mind went back to the stories -told by hard drinkers of the cure known as the "hair of the dog that bit -you." So it was that I went into Kilmacolm again, not knowing how I came -out, and waited until the pubs opened, when I drank a bottle of beer and -a half-glass of whisky. My headache cleared away and I had threepence -left and felt happy. By getting drunk the night before I made myself -impervious to the rain and blind to the discomforts of the cold and the -slush of the roadway. Drunkenness had no more terrors for me, and as a -matter of course I often got drunk when a cold night rested over the -houseless road, and when my body shuddered at the thought of spending -hour after hour in the open. Drink kept me company, and there was no -terror that we could not face together, drink and I. - -I never have seen Fergus since, but often I think of the part which he -played in my life. If he had not come into the inn at the moment when I -was sitting by the fire I would probably never have drunk another glass -of spirits in my life. I do not see anything wrong in taking liquor as -long as a man makes it his slave. Drink was a slave to me. I used it for -the betterment of my soul, and for the comfort of the body. In -conformity with the laws of society an individual like me must sleep -under a wet hedgerow now and again. There is nothing in the world more -dismal. The water drops off the tree like water from the walls of a -dungeon, splashes on your face, maybe dropping into the eyes when you -open them. The hands are frozen, the legs are cold, heavy and dead; you -hum little songs to yourself over and over again, ever the same song, -for you have not the will to start a fresh one, and the cold creeps all -over the body, coming closer and closer, like a thief to your heart. -Sometimes it catches men who are too cold to move even from the spectre -of death. The nights spent in the cold are horrible, are soul-killing. -Only drink can draw a man from his misery; only by getting drunk may a -man sleep well on the cold ground. So I have found, and so it was that I -got drunk when I slept out on a winter's night. Maybe I would be dead in -the morning, I sometimes thought, but no one would regret that, not even -myself. Drink is a servant wonderfully efficient. Only when sober could -I see myself as I really was, an outcast, a man rejected by society, and -despised and forgotten. Often I would sit alone in a quiet place and -think my life was hardly worth living. But somehow I kept on living a -life that was to me as smoke is to the eyes, bitter and cruel. As time -wore on I became primeval, animalised and brutish. Everything which I -could lay hands on and which would serve my purposes was mine. The milk -left by milkmen at the doors of houses in early morning was mine. How -often in the grey dawn of a winter morning did I steal through a front -gate silently as a cat and empty the milk-can hanging over some -doorstep, then slip so silently away again that no one either heard my -coming or going. It was most exciting, and excitement is one of the -necessaries of life. Excitement appeals to me, I hanker after it as a -hungry man hankers after food. I like to see people getting excited over -something. - -One evening in early spring, nearly two years after I had left Braxey -Farm, I was passing a large house near G----, or was it P----? I now -forget which of these towns was nearest the house. I had at that time a -strange partiality for a curious form of amusement. I liked to steal up -to large houses in the darkness and watch the occupants at dinner. - -A large party was at dinner in the house on this spring evening, and I -crept into the shrubbery and looked through the window into the lighted -room. With the slushy earth under my body I lay and watched the people -inside eating, drinking, and making merry. At the further end of the -table a big fat woman in evening dress sat facing me, and she looked -irrepressibly merry. Her low-cut frock exposed a great spread of bulging -flesh stretching across from shoulder to shoulder. It was a most -disgusting sight, and should have been hidden. - -The damp of the earth came through my clothing and I rose to my feet, -intending to go away. Before me lay the darkness, the night, and the -cold. I am, as I said, very impulsive, and long for excitement. Some -rash act would certainly enliven the dull dark hours. In rising, my hand -encountered a large pebble, and suddenly an idea entered my mind. What -would the old lady do if the pebble suddenly crashed through the window? -If such a thing occurred it would be most amusing to witness her -actions. I stepped out of the shrubbery in order to have a clear swing -of the arm, and threw the stone through the window. There was a tinkling -fall of broken glass, and everyone in the room turned to the -window--everyone in the room except the old lady. She rose to her feet, -and in another moment the door of the house opened and she stood in the -doorway, her large form outlined against the light in the hall. So -quickly had she come out that I had barely time to steal into the -shrubbery. From there I crept backwards towards the road, but before I -had completed half the journey I heard to my horror the fat lady calling -for a dog. Then I heard a short, sharp yelp, and I turned and ran for -all I was worth. Before I reached the gate a fairly-sized black animal -was at my heels, squealing as I had heard dogs in Ireland squeal when -pursuing a rabbit. I turned round suddenly, fearing to get bitten in the -legs, and the animal, unable to restrain his mad rush, careered past. He -tried to turn round, but my boot shot out and the blow took him on the -head. This was an action that he did not relish, and he hurried back to -the house, whimpering all the way. In a moment I was on the road, and I -ran for a long distance, feeling that I had had enough excitement for -one night. Needless to say I never threw a stone through a window again. -I had been out of work for quite a long while and hunger was again -pinching me. I remember well the day following my encounter with the fat -lady and her dog, for on that day I sold my shirt in a rag-store in -Glasgow and got the sum of sixpence for the same. - -It was now two years and a half since I had seen Micky's Jim or any -members of his squad, but often during that time I thought of Norah Ryan -and the part she played in my life. Almost daily since leaving the squad -I had thoughts of her in my mind. For a while I was angry with myself -for allowing such thoughts to master me, but in the end I became -resigned to them. Norah's fair face would persist in rising before my -vision, and when other dreams, other illusions, were shattered, the -memory of Norah Ryan still exercised a spell over me. In the end I -resigned myself to the remembrances of her, and in the course of time -remembrance gave rise to longings and I wanted to see her again. Now, -instead of being almost entirely mental, the longing, different from the -youthful longing, was both of the mind and body. I wanted to kiss her, -take her on my knees and fondle her. But these desires were always -damped by the thought of the other man, so much so that I recoiled from -the very thought even of meeting Norah again. - -Since meeting Gourock Ellen and hearing the loose talk of the women in -Braxey Farm most women were repulsive in my sight. For all that, Norah -Ryan was ever the same in my eyes. To me she was a wonder, a mystery, a -dream. But when I desired to go and see her a certain pride held me -back. She allowed another man to kiss her. I never kissed her, partly -because kissing was practically unknown in Glenmornan, and partly -because I thought Norah far above the mere caresses of my lips. To kiss -her would be a violation and a wrong. Why had she allowed Morrison to -kiss her? I often asked myself. She must have loved him, and, loving -him, she would have no thought for me. Perhaps she would be annoyed if I -went to see her, and it is wrong to annoy those whom we love. True love -to a man should mean the doing of that which is most desirable in the -eyes of her whom he loves. The man who disputes this has never loved; if -he thinks that he has, he is mistaken. He has been merely governed by -that most bestial passion, lust. - -The year had already taken the best part of autumn to itself, and I was -going along to Greenock by the Glasgow road when I came to a farmhouse. -There I met with Micky's Jim and a squad of potato-diggers. It gave me -pleasure to meet Jim again, and, the pleasure being mutual, he took me -into the byre and gave me food and drink. There were many Glenmornan -people in the squad, but there were none of those who were in it in my -time, and of these latter people you may be certain I lost no time in -asking. Gourock Ellen and Annie had not come back that season, and -nobody knew where they had gone and what had become of them. - -"It does not matter, anyhow," said Jim, who, curiously enough, had -nothing but contempt for women of that class. - -Norah Ryan, first in my thoughts, was the last for whom I made -enquiries. - -"She left us a week ago, and went away to Glasgow," said Jim. - -"Indeed she did, poor girl," said one of the Glenmornan women. - -"And her such a fine soncy lass too! Wasn't it a great pity that it -happened?" said another. - -"What happened?" I asked, bewildered. "Is she not well?" - -"It's worse than that," said a woman. - -"Much worse!" cackled another, shaking her head. - -"The farmer's son kept gaddin' about with her all last year," broke in -Jim, and I noticed the eyes of everybody in the byre turned on me. "But -he has left her to herself now," he concluded. - -"I'm glad to hear it," I said. - -"I think that ye had a notion of her yerself," said Jim, "and the -farmer's son was a dirty beast, anyhow." - -"Why has she left the squad?" I asked again. "Has she got married?" - -"When she left here she was in the family-way, ye know," answered -Micky's Jim. "Such a funny thing, and no one would have thought of it, -the dirty slut. Ye would think that butter would not melt in her mouth." - -"That's just so," chorused the women. "Wan would think that butter would -not melt in the girl's mouth." - -"She was a dirty wench," said Micky's Jim, as if giving a heavy -decision. - -I was stunned by the news and could hardly trust my ears. Also I got mad -with Micky's Jim for his last words. It comes naturally to some people -to call those women betrayed by great love and innocence the most -opprobrious names. The fact of a woman having loved unwisely and far too -well often offers everybody excuses to throw stones at her. And there -are other men who, in the company of their own sex, always talk of women -in the most filthy manner, and nobody takes offence. Often have I -listened to tirades of abuse levelled against all women, and I have -taken no hand in suppressing it, not being worthy enough to correct the -faults of others. But when Micky's Jim said those words against Norah -Ryan I reached out, forgetting the bread eaten with him and the hand -raised on the 'Derry boat on my behalf years before, and gripping him -under the armpits I lifted him up into the air and threw him head -foremost on the floor. He got to his feet and rushed at me, while the -other occupants of the byre watched us but never interfered. - -"I didn't think it was in ye, Dermod, to strike a friend," he said, and -drove his fist for my face. But I had learned a little of the art of -self-defence here and there; so it was that at the end of five minutes -Jim, still willing in spirit but weak in flesh, was unable to rise to -his feet, and I went out to the road again, having fought one fight in -which victory gave me no pleasure. - -I walked along heedlessly, but in some inexplicable manner my feet -turned towards Glasgow. My brain was afire, my life was broken, and I -almost wished that I had not asked about Norah when I met Jim. My last -dream, my greatest illusion, was shattered now, and only at that moment -did I realise the pleasure which the remembrances of early days in -Norah's company had given me. I believed so much in my ideal love for -Norah that I thought the one whom I idealised was proof against -temptation and sin. My mind went back to the night when I saw her give -the two-shilling piece, nearly all her fortune, to the man with the pain -in his back--the same night when she and I both blushed at the -frowardness of Gourock Ellen. Such goodness and such innocence! -Instinctively I knew that her sin--not sin, but mistake--was due to her -innocence. And some day Norah might become like Gourock Ellen. The -thought terrified me, and almost drove me frantic. Only now did I know -what Norah Ryan really meant to me. For her I lived, and for her alone. -I loved her, then it was my duty to help her. Love is unworthy of the -name unless it proves its worth when put to the test. I went to Glasgow -and made enquiries for my sweetheart. For three whole weeks I searched, -but my search was unsuccessful, and at last hunger drove me from the -city. - -Perhaps Jim knew of her abode? After our last encounter it was hard to -go back and ask a favour of him. In the end I humbled myself and went -and spoke to one of the women in the squad. She did not know where Norah -was; and sour against Heaven and Destiny I went out on the long road -again. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[4] Ordering and drinking whisky, and having no intention of paying for -the drink, is known to navvies as "shooting the crow." - -[5] Schooner. A large glass used for lager-beer and ale, which contains -fourteen fluid ounces. - -[6] A stick. A half-glass of whisky mixed with beer--a navvyism for -_petite verre_. - -[7] Pulling the hare's foot. A farmyard phrase. The hare in the -cornfield takes refuge in the standing corn when the servants are -reaping. To the farmer himself belongs the privilege of catching the -animal. If he is unable to corner the hare he stands drinks to all the -harvesters, and the drink is usually a sure one. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE DRAINER - - "Voiceless slave of the solitude, rude as the draining shovel is - rude: - Man by the ages of wrong subdued, marred, misshapen, misunderstood, - Such is the Drainer." - - --From _Songs of a Navvy_. - - -Late in the September of the same year I got a job at digging sheep -drains on a moor in Argyllshire. I worked with a man named Sandy, and I -never knew his second name. I believe he had almost forgotten it -himself. He had a little hut in the centre of the moor, and I lived with -him there. The hut was built of piles shoved into the ground, and the -cracks between were filled with moss to keep out the cold. In the wet -weather the water came through the floor and put out the fire, what time -we required it most. - -One night when taking supper a beetle dropped from the roof into my -tea-can. - -"The first leevin' thing I've seen here for mony a day, barrin' -oursel's," Sandy remarked. "The verra worms keep awa' frae the place." - -We started work at seven o'clock in the morning. Each of us dug a sod -six inches deep and nine inches wide, and threw it as far as we could -from the place where it was lifted. All day long we kept doing the same -thing, just as Sandy had been doing it for thirty years. We hardly ever -spoke to one another, there was nothing to speak about. The moor spread -out on all sides, and little could be seen save the brown rank grass, -the crawling bogbine, and the dirty sluggish water. We had to drink this -water. The nearest tree was two miles distant, and the nearest -public-house a good two hours' walk away. Sandy got drunk twice a week. - -"Just tae put the taste o' the feelthy water oot o' my mooth," he -explained in apologetic tones when he got sober. I do not know why he -troubled to make excuses for his drunkenness. It mattered very little to -me, although I was now teetotal myself. I was even glad when the man got -drunk, for intoxicated he gave a touch of the ridiculous to the scene -that was so killingly sombre when he was sober. In the end I became -almost as soulless and stupid as the sods I turned up, and in the long -run I debated whether I should take to drink or the road in order to -enliven my life. I had some money in my pocket, and my thoughts turned -to Norah Ryan. Perhaps if I went to Glasgow I would find her. I took it -in my head to leave; I told Sandy and asked him to come. - -"There's nae use in me leavin' here noo," he said. "I've stopped too -lang for that." - -The farmer for whom we wrought got very angry when I asked him for my -wages. - -"There's nae pleasin' o' some folk," he grumbled. "They'll nae keep a -guid job when they get one." - -The last thing I saw as I turned out on the high-road was Sandy leaning -over his draining spade like some God-forsaken spirit of the moorland. -Poor man! he had not a friend in all the world, and he was very old. - -I stopped in Glasgow for four weeks, but my search for Norah was -fruitless. She seemed to have gone out of the world and no trace of her -was to be found. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A DEAD MAN'S SHOES - - "In the grim dead-end he lies, - With passionless filmy eyes, - English Ned, with a hole in his head, - Staring up at the skies. - - "The engine driver swore, as often he swore before: - 'I whistled him back from the flamin' track, - And I couldn't do no more!' - - "The ganger spoke through the 'phone: 'Platelayer seventy-one - Got killed to-day on the six-foot way - By a goods on the city run. - - "'English Ned is his name, no one knows whence he came; - He didn't take mind of the road behind, - And none of us is to blame.'" - - --From _Songs of the Dead End_. - - -The law has it that no man must work as a platelayer on the running -lines until he is over twenty-one years of age. If my readers look up -the books of the ---- Railway Company, they'll find that I started work -in the service of the company at the age of twenty-two. My readers must -not believe this. I was only eighteen years of age when I started work -on the railway, but I told a lie in order to obtain the post. - -One day, five weeks following my return from the Argyllshire moors, and -long after all my money had been expended on the fruitless search for -Norah Ryan, I clambered up a railway embankment near Glasgow with the -intention of seeking a job, and found that a man had just been killed -by a ballast engine. He had been cut in two; the fingers of his left -hand severed clean away were lying on the slag. The engine wheels were -dripping with blood. The sight made me sick with a dull heavy nausea, -and numberless little blue and black specks floated before my eyes. An -almost unbearable dryness came into my throat; my legs became heavy and -leaden, and it seemed as if thousands of pins were pricking them. All -the men were terror-stricken, and a look of fear was in every eye. They -did not know whose turn would come next. - -A few of them stepped reluctantly forward and carried the thing which -had been a fellow-man a few minutes before and placed it on the green -slope. Others pulled the stray pieces of flesh from amidst the rods, -bars, and wheels of the engine and washed the splotches of blood from -the sleepers and rails. One old fellow lifted the severed fingers from -the slag, counting each one loudly and carefully as if some weighty -decision hung on the correct tally of the dead man's fingers. They were -placed beside the rest of the body, and prompted by a morbid curiosity I -approached it where it lay in all its ghastliness on the green slope -with a dozen men or more circled around it. The face was unrecognisable -as a human face. A thin red sliver of flesh lying on the ground looked -like a tongue. Probably the man's teeth in contracting had cut the -tongue in two. I had looked upon two dead people, Dan and Mary Sorley, -but they might have been asleep, so quiet did they lie in their eternal -repose. This was also death, but death combined with horror. Here and -there scraps of clothing and buttons were scrambled up with the flesh, -but all traces of clothing were almost entirely hidden from sight. The -old man who had gathered up the fingers brought a bag forward and -covered up the dead thing on the slope. The rest of the men drew back, -quietly and soberly, glad that the thing was hidden from their eyes. - -"A bad sight for the fellow's wife," said the old man to me. "I've seen -fifteen men die like him, you know." - -"How did it happen?" I asked. - -"We was liftin' them rails into the ballast train, and every rail is -over half a ton in weight," said the man, who, realising that I was not -a railway man, gave full details. "One of the rails came back. The men -were in too big a hurry, that's what I say, and I've always said it, but -it's not their fault. It's the company as wants men to work as if every -man was a horse, and the men daren't take their time. It's the sack if -they do that. Well, as I was a-sayin', the rail caught on the lip of the -waggon, and came back atop of Mick--Mick Deehan is his name--as the -train began just to move. The rail broke his back, snapped it in two -like a dry stick. We heard the spine crack, and he just gave one squeal -and fell right under the engine. Ugh! it was ill to look at it, and, -mind you, I've seen fifteen deaths like it. Fifteen, just think of -that!" - -Then I realised that I had been saved part of the worst terror of the -tragedy. It must have been awful to see a man suddenly transformed into -that which lay under the bag beside me. A vision came to me of the poor -fellow getting suddenly caught in the terrible embrace of the engine, -watching the large wheel slowly revolving downwards towards his face, -while his ears would hear, the last sound ever to be heard by them, the -soft, slippery movement of that monstrous wheel skidding in flesh and -blood. For a moment I was in the dead man's place, I could feel the -flange of the wheel cutting and sliding through me as a plough slides -through the furrow of a field. Again my feelings almost overcame me, my -brain was giddy and my feet seemed insecurely planted on the ground. - -By an effort I diverted my thoughts from the tragedy, and my eyes fell -on a spider's web hung between two bare twigs just behind the dead man. -It glistened in the sunshine, and a large spider, a little distance out -from the rim, had its gaze fixed on some winged insect which had got -entangled in the meshes of the web. When the old man who had seen -fifteen deaths passed behind the corpse, the spider darted back to the -shelter of the twig, and the winged insect struggled fiercely, trying to -free itself from the meshes of death. - -On a near bough a bird was singing, and its song was probably the first -love-song of the spring. In the field on the other side of the line, and -some distance away, a group of children were playing, children -bare-legged, and dressed in garments of many colours. Behind them a row -of lime-washed cottages stood, looking cheerful in the sunshine of the -early spring. Two women stood at one door, gossiping, no doubt. A young -man in passing raised his hat to the women, then stopped and talked with -them for a while. From far down the line, which ran straight for miles, -an extra gang of workers was approaching, their legs moving under their -apparently motionless bodies, and breaking the lines of light which ran -along the polished upper bedes of the rails. The men near me were -talking, but in my ears their voices sounded like the droning of bees -that flit amid the high branches of leafy trees. The coming gang drew -nearer, stepping slowly from sleeper to sleeper, thus saving the soles -of their boots from the contact of the wearing slag. The man in front, a -strong, lusty fellow, was bellowing out in a very unmusical voice an -Irish love song. Suddenly I noticed that all the men near me were gazing -tensely at the approaching squad, the members of which were yet unaware -of the tragedy, for the rake of ballast waggons hid the bloodstained -slag and scene of the accident from their eyes. The singer came round -behind the rear waggon, still bellowing out his song. - - - "I'll leave me home again and I'll bid good-bye to-morrow, - I'll pass the little graveyard and the tomb anear the wall, - I have lived so long for love that I cannot live for sorrow - By the grave that holds me cooleen in a glen of Donegal." - - -Every eye was turned on him, but no man spoke. Apparently taking no heed -of the splotches of blood, now darkly red, and almost the colour of the -slag on which they lay, he approached the bag which covered the body. - -"What the devil is this?" he cried out, and gave the bag a kick, -throwing it clear of the thing which it covered. The bird on the bough -atop of the slope trilled louder; the song of the man died out, and he -turned to the ganger who stood near him, with a questioning look. - -"It's Mick, is it?" he asked, removing his cap. - -"It's Micky," said the ganger. - -The man by the corpse bent down again and covered it up slowly and -quietly, then he sank down on the green slope and burst into tears. - -"Micky and him's brothers, you know," said a man who stood beside me in -a whisper. The tears came into my eyes, much though I tried to restrain -them. The tragedy had now revealed itself in all its horrible intensity, -and I almost wished to run away from the spot. - -After a while the breakdown van came along; the corpse was lifted in, -the brother tottered weakly into the carriage attached to the van, and -the engine puffed back to Glasgow. A few men turned the slag in the -sleeper beds and hid the dark red clotted blood for ever. The man had a -wife and several children, and to these the company paid blood money, -and the affair was in a little while forgotten by most men, for it was -no man's business. Does it not give us an easy conscience that this -wrong and that wrong is no business of ours? - -When the train rumbled around the first curve on its return journey I -went towards the ganger, for the work obsession still troubled me. Once -out of work I long for a job, once having a job my mind dwells on the -glories of the free-footed road again. But now I had an object in view, -for if I obtained employment on the railway I could stop in Glasgow and -continue my search for Norah Ryan during the spare hours. The ganger -looked at me dubiously, and asked my age. - -"Twenty-two years," I answered, for I was well aware that a man is never -taken on as a platelayer until he has attained his majority. - -There and then I was taken into the employ of the ---- Railway Company, -as Dermod Flynn, aged twenty-two years. Afterwards the ganger read me -the rules which I had to observe while in the employment of the company. -I did not take very much heed to his droning voice, my mind reverting -continuously to the tragedy which I had just witnessed, and I do not -think that the ganger took very much pleasure in the reading. While we -were going through the rules a stranger scrambled up the railway slope -and came towards us. - -"I heard that a man was killed," he said in an eager voice. "Any chance -of gettin' a start in his place?" - -"This man's in his shoes," said the ganger, pointing at me. - -"Lucky dog!" was all that the man said, as he turned away. - -The ganger's name was Roche, "Horse Roche"--for his mates nicknamed him -"Horse" on account of his enormous strength. He could drive a nine-inch -iron spike through a wooden sleeper with one blow of his hammer. No -other man on the railway could do the same thing at that time; but -before I passed my twenty-first birthday I could perform the same feat -quite easily. Roche was a hard swearer, a heavy drinker, and a fearless -fighter. He will not mind my saying these things about him now. He is -dead over four years. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -BOOKS - - "For me has Homer sung of wars, - Æschylus wrote and Plato thought, - Has Dante loved and Darwin wrought, - And Galileo watched the stars." - - --From _The Navvy's Scrap Book_. - - -Up till this period of my life I had no taste for literature. I had -seldom even glanced at the daily papers, having no interest in the world -in which I played so small a part. One day when the gang was waiting for -a delayed ballast train, and when my thoughts were turning to Norah -Ryan, I picked up a piece of paper, a leaf from an exercise book, and -written on it in a girl's or woman's handwriting were these little -verses: - - - "No, indeed! for God above - Is great to grant, as mighty to make, - And creates the love to reward the love,-- - I claim you still, for my own love's sake! - Delayed it may be for more lives yet, - Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few-- - Much is to learn and much to forget - Ere the time be come for taking you. - - "I have lived (I shall say) so much since then, - Given up myself so many times. - Gained me the gains of various men, - Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes; - Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, - Either I missed or itself missed me: - And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope - What is the issue? let us see!" - - -While hardly understanding their import, the words went to my heart. -They expressed thoughts of my own, thoughts lying so deeply that I was -not able to explain or express them. The writer of the verse I did not -know, but I thought that he, whoever he was, had looked deep into my -soul and knew my feelings better than myself. All day long I repeated -the words to myself over and over again, and from them I got much -comfort and strength, that stood me in good stead in the long hours of -searching on the streets of Glasgow for my luckless love. Under the -glaring lamps that lit the larger streets, through the dark guttery -alleys and sordid slums I prowled about nightly, looking at every young -maiden's face and seeing in each the hard stare of indifference and the -cold look of the stranger. Round the next corner perhaps she was -waiting; a figure approaching reminded me of her, and I hurried forward -eagerly only to find that I was mistaken. Oh! how many illusions kept me -company in my search! how many disappointments! and how many hopes. For -I wanted Norah; for her I longed with a great longing, and a dim vague -hope of meeting her buoyed up my soul. - - - "And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope! - What is the issue? let us see!" - - -Such comforting words, and the world of books might be full of them! A -new and unexplored world lay open before me, and for years I had not -seen it, or seeing, never heeded. I had once more the hope that winged -me along the leading road to Strabane when leaving for a new country. -Alas! the country that raised such anticipations was not what my hopes -fashioned, but this newer world, just as enticing, was worthy of more -trust and greater confidence. I began to read eagerly, ravenously. I -read Victor Hugo in G---- Tunnel. One day a falling rail broke the top -joint of the middle finger of my left hand. Being unable for some time -to take part in the usual work of the squad I was placed on the look-out -when my gang worked on the night-shift in the tunnel at G----. When the -way was not clear ahead I had to signal the trains in the darkness, but -as three trains seldom passed in the hour the work was light and easy. -When not engaged I sat on the rail beside the naphtha lamp and read -aloud to myself. I lived with Hugo's characters, I suffered with them -and wept for them in their troubles. One night when reading _Les -Miserables_ I cried over the story of Jean Valjean and little Cosette. -Horse Roche at that moment came through the darkness (in the tunnel it -is night from dawn to dawn) and paused to ask me how I was getting -along. - -"Your eyes are running water, Flynn," he said. "You sit too close to the -lamp smoke." - -I remember many funny things which happened in those days. I read the -chapter on _Natural Supernaturalism_, from _Sartor Resartus_, while -seated on the footboard of a flying ballast train. Once, when Roche had -left his work to take a drink in a near public-house, I read several -pages from _Sesame and Lilies_, under shelter of a coal waggon, which -had been shunted into an adjacent siding. I read Montaigne's _Essays_ -during my meal hours, while my mates gambled and swore around me. - -I procured a ticket for the Carnegie Library, but bought some books, -when I had cash to spare, from a second-hand bookseller on the south -side of Glasgow. Every pay-day I spent a few shillings there, and went -home to my lodgings with a bundle of books under my arm. The bookseller -would not let me handle the books until I bought them, because my hands -were so greasy and oily with the muck of my day's labour. I seldom read -in my lodgings. I spent most of my evenings in the streets engaged on my -unsuccessful search. I read in the spare moments snatched from my daily -work. Soon my books were covered with iron-rust, sleeper-tar and waggon -grease, where my dirty hands had touched them, and when I had a book in -my possession for a month I could hardly decipher a word on the pages. -There is some difficulty in reading thus. - -I started to write verses of a kind, and one poem written by me was -called _The Lady of the Line_. I personified the spirit that watched -over the lives of railway men from behind the network of point-rods and -hooded signals. The red danger lamp was her sign of power, and I wrote -of her as queen of all the running lines in the world. - -I read the poem to my mates. Most of them liked it very much and a few -learned it by heart. When Horse Roche heard of it he said: "You'll end -your days in the madhouse, or"--with cynical repetition--"in the House -of Parliament." - -On Sunday afternoons, when not at work, I went to hear the socialist -speakers who preached the true Christian Gospel to the people at the -street corners. The workers seldom stopped to listen; they thought that -the socialists spoke a lot of nonsense. The general impression was that -socialists, like clergymen, were paid speakers; that they endeavoured to -save men's bodies from disease and poverty as curates save souls from -sin for a certain number of shillings a day. From the first I looked -upon socialist speakers as men who had an earnest desire for justice, -and men who toiled bravely in the struggle for the regeneration of -humanity. I always revolted against injustice, and hated all manner of -oppression. My heart went out to the men, women, and children who toil -in the dungeons and ditches of labour, grinding out their souls and -bodies for meagre pittances. All around me were social injustices, -affecting the very old and the very young as they affected the supple -and strong. Social suffering begins at any age, and death is often its -only remedy. That remedy is only for the individual; the general remedy -is to be found in Socialism. Industry, that new Inquisition, has -thousands on the rack of profit; Progress, to millions, means slavery -and starvation; Progress and Profit mean sweated labour to railway men, -and it meant death to many of them, as to Mick Deehan, whose place I had -filled. I had suffered a lot myself: a brother of mine had died when he -might have been saved by the rent which was paid to the landlord, and I -had seen suffering all around me wherever I went; suffering due to -injustice and tyranny of the wealthy class. When I heard the words -spoken by the socialists at the street corner a fire of enthusiasm -seized me, and I knew that the world was moving and that the men and -women of the country were waking from the torpor of poverty, full of -faith for a new cause. I joined the socialist party. - -For a while I kept in the background; the discussions which took place -in their hall in G---- Street made me conscious of my own lack of -knowledge on almost any subject. The members of the party discussed -Spencer, Darwin, Huxley, Karl Marx, Ricardo, and Smith, men of whom I -had never even heard, and inwardly I chafed at my own absolute ignorance -and want of the education necessary for promoting the cause which I -advocated. Hours upon hours did I spend wading through Marx's _Capital_, -and Henry George's _Progress and Poverty_. The former, the more logical, -appealed to me least. - -I had only been two months in the socialist party when I organised a -strike among the railway men, the thirty members of the Flying Squad on -which I worked. - -We were loading ash waggons at C---- engine shed, and shovelling ashes -is one of the worst jobs on the railway. Some men whom I have met -consider work behind prison walls a pleasure when compared with it. As -these men spoke from experience I did not doubt their words. The ash-pit -at C---- was a miniature volcano. The red-hot cinders and burning ashes -were piled together in a deep pit, the mouth of which barely reached the -level of the railway track. The Flying Squad under Horse Roche cleared -out the pit once every month. The ashes were shovelled into waggons -placed on the rails alongside for that purpose. The men stripped to the -trousers and shirt in the early morning, and braces were loosened to -give the shoulders the ease in movement required for the long day's -swinging of the shovel. Three men were placed at each waggon and ten -waggons were filled by the squad at each spell of work. Every three -wrought as hard as they were able, so that their particular waggon might -be filled before the others. The men who lagged behind went down in the -black book of the ganger. - -On the day of the strike the pit was a boiling hell. Chunks of coal -half-burned and half-ablaze, lumps of molten slag, red-hot bricks and -fiery ashes were muddled together in suffocating profusion. From the -bottom of the pit a fierce impetus was required to land the contents of -the shovel in the waggon overhead. Sometimes a brick would strike on the -rim of the waggon and rebound back on the head of the man who threw it -upwards. "Cripes! we'll have to fill it ourselves now," his two mates -would say as they bundled their bleeding fellow out of the reeking heat. -A shower of fine ashes were continuously falling downwards and resting -upon our necks and shoulders, and the ash-particles burned the flesh -like thin red-hot wires. It was even worse when they went further down -our backs, for then every move of the underclothing and every swing of -the shoulders caused us intense agony. Under the run of the shirt the -ashes scarred the flesh like sand-paper. All around a thick smoke rested -and hid us from the world without, and within we suffered in a pit of -blasting fire. I've seen men dropping at the job like rats in a furnace. -These were usually carried out, and a bucket of water was emptied on -their face. When they recovered they entered into the pit again. - -Horse Roche stood on the coupling chains of the two middle waggons, -timing the work with his watch and hastening it on with his curses. He -was not a bad fellow at heart, but he could do nothing without flying -into a fuming passion, which often was no deeper than his lips. Below -him the smoke was so thick that he could hardly see his own labourers -from the stand on the coupling chain. All he could see was the shovels -of red ashes and shovels of black ashes rising up and over the haze that -enveloped the pit beneath. But we could hear Roche where we wrought. -Louder than the grinding of the ballast engine was the voice of the -Horse cursing and swearing. His swearing was a gift, remarkable and -irrepressible; it was natural to the man; it was the man. - -"God's curse on you, Dan Devine, I don't see your shovel at work at -all!" he roared. "Where the hell are you, Muck MaCrossan? Your waggon -isn't nearly water-level yet, and that young whelp, Flynn, has his -nearly full! If your chest was as broad as your belly, MacQueen, you'd -be a danged sight better man on the ash-pile! It's not but that you are -well enough used to the ashes, for I never yet saw a Heelin man who -didn't spend the best part of his life before a fire or before grub! -Come now, you men on the offside; you are slacking it like hell! If you -haven't your waggon up over the lip, I'll sack every God-damned man of -you on the next pay day! Has a brick fallen on Feeley's head? Well, -shove the idiot out of the pit and get on with your work! His head is -too big, anyhow, it's always in the road!" - -This was the manner in which Horse Roche carried on, and most of the men -were afraid of him. I felt frightened of the man, for I anticipated the -gruelling which he would give me if I fell foul of him. But if we had -come to blows he would not, I am certain, have much to boast about at -the conclusion of the affair. However, I never quarrelled with Roche. - -On the day of the strike, about three o'clock in the afternoon, when -fully forespent at our work, the ballast engine brought in a rake of -sixteen-ton waggons. Usually the waggons were small, just large enough -to hold eight tons of ashes. The ones brought in now were very high, and -it required the utmost strength of any one of us to throw a shovelful of -ashes over the rim of the waggon. Not alone were the waggons higher, but -the pile in the pit had decreased, and we had to work from a lower -level. And those waggons could hold so much! They were like the grave, -never satisfied, but ever wanting more, more. I suggested that we should -stop work. Discontent was boiling hot, and the men scrambled out of the -pit, telling Roche to go to hell, and get men to fill his waggons. -Outside of the pit the men's anger cooled. They looked at one another -for a while, feeling that they had done something that was sinful and -wrong. To talk of stopping work in such a manner was blasphemy to most -of them. Ronald MacQueen had a wife and a gathering of young children, -and work was slack. Dan Devine was old, and had been in the service of -the company for twenty years. If he left now he might not get another -job. He rubbed the fine ashes out of his eyes, and looked at MacQueen. -Both men had similar thoughts, and before the sweat was dry on their -faces they turned back to the pit together. One by one the men followed -them, until I was left alone on the outside. Horse Roche had never -shifted his position on the coupling chains. "It'll not pain my feet -much, if I stand till you come back!" he cried when we went out. He -watched the men return with a look of cynical amusement. - -"Come back, Flynn," he cried, when he saw me standing alone. "You're a -fool, and the rest of the men are cowards; their spines are like the -spines of earth worms." - -I picked up my shovel angrily, and returned to my waggon. I was -disgusted and disappointed and ashamed. I had lost in the fight, and I -felt the futility of rising in opposition against the powers that -crushed us down. That night I sent a letter to the railway company -stating our grievance. No one except myself would sign it, but all the -men said that my letter was a real good one. It must have been too good. -A few days later a clerk was sent from the head of the house to inform -me that I would get sacked if I wrote another letter of the same kind. - -Then I realised that in the grip of the great industrial machine I was -powerless; I was a mere spoke in the wheel of the car of progress, and -would be taken out if I did not perform my functions there. The human -spoke is useful as long as it behaves like a wooden one in the socket -into which it is wedged. So long will the Industrial Carriage keep -moving forward under the guidance of heavy-stomached Indolence and -inflated Pride. There is no scarcity of spokes, human and wooden. What -does it matter if Devine and MacQueen were thrown away? A million seeds -are dropping in the forest, and all women are not divinely chaste. The -young children are growing. Blessings be upon you, workmen, you have -made spokes that will shove you from the sockets into which your feet -are wedged, but God grant that the next spokes are not as wooden as -yourselves! - -Again the road was calling to me. My search in Glasgow had been quite -unsuccessful, and the dull slavery of the six-foot way began to pall on -me. The clerk who was sent by the company to teach me manners was a most -annoying little fellow, and full of the importance of his mission. I -told him quietly to go to the devil, an advice which he did not relish, -but which he forbore to censure. That evening I left the employ of the ----- Railway Company. - -Just two hours before I lifted my lying time, the Horse was testing -packed sleepers with his pick some distance away from the gang, when a -rabbit ran across the railway. Horse dropped his pick, aimed a lump of -slag at the animal and broke its leg. It limped off; we saw the Horse -follow, and about a hundred paces from the point where he had first -observed it Roche caught the rabbit, and proceeded to kill it outright -by battering its head against the flange of the rail. At that moment a -train passed us, travelling on the down line. Roche was on the up line, -but as the train passed him we saw a glint of something bright flashing -between the engine and the man, and at the same moment Roche fell to his -face on the four-foot way. We hurried towards him, and found our ganger -vainly striving to rise with both arms caught in his entrails. The pick -which he had left lying on the line got caught in the engine wheels and -was carried forward, and violently hurled out when the engine came level -with the ganger. It ripped his belly open, and he died about three -minutes after we came to his assistance. The rabbit, although badly -wounded, escaped to its hole. That night I was on the road again. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A FISTIC ARGUMENT - - "You're hungry and want me to give you food? I'll see you in hell - first!"--From _Words to the Hungry_. - - -I left my job on Tuesday, and tramped about for the rest of the week -foot-free and reckless. The nights were fine, and sleeping out of doors -was a pleasure. On Saturday night I found myself in Burn's model -lodging-house, Greenock. I paid for the night's bedding, and got the use -of a frying-pan to cook a chop which I had bought earlier in the day. -Although it was now midsummer a large number of men were seated around -the hot-plate on the ground floor, where some weighty matter was under -discussion. A man with two black eyes was carrying on a whole-hearted -argument with a ragged tramp in one corner of the room. I proceeded to -fry my trifle of meat, and was busily engaged on my job when I became -aware of a disturbance near the door. A drunken man had come in, and his -oaths were many, but it was impossible to tell what he was swearing at. -All at once I turned round, for I heard a phrase that I knew full well. - -"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," said -the drunken man. The speaker was Moleskin Joe, and face to face he -recognised me immediately. - -"Dermod Flynn, by God!" he cried. "Dermod--Flynn--by--God! How did you -get on with your milkin', sonny? You're the only man I ever cheated out -of five bob, and there's another man cheatin' you out of your bit of -steak this very minute." - -I turned round rapidly to my frying-pan, and saw a man bending over it. -This fellow, who was of middle age, and unkempt appearance, had broken -an egg over my chop, and was busily engaged in cooking both. I had never -seen the man before. - -"You're at the wrong frying-pan," I roared, knowing his trick. - -"You're a damned liar," he answered. - -"No, but you are the damned liar," I shouted in reply. - -"Good!" laughed Moleskin, sitting down on a bench, and biting a plug of -tobacco. "Good, Flynn! Put them up to Carroty Dan; he's worth keepin' -your eye on." - -"If he keeps his eye on me, he'll soon get it blackened," replied the -man who was nick-named Carroty, on account of his red hair. "This is my -frying-pan." - -"It is not," I replied. - -"Had you an egg on this chop when you turned round?" asked Carroty. - -"I had not." - -"Well, there's an egg on this pan, cully, so it can't be yours." - -I knew that it would be useless to argue with the man. I drew out with -all my strength, and landed one on the jowl of Carroty Dan, and he went -to the ground like a stuck pig. - -"Good, Flynn!" shouted Moleskin, spitting on the planking beneath his -feet. "You'll be a fighter some day." - -I turned to the chop and took no notice of my fallen enemy until I was -also lying stretched amidst the sawdust on the floor, with a sound like -the falling of many waters ringing in my head. Carroty had hit me under -my ear while my attention was devoted to the chop. I scrambled to my -feet but went to the ground again, having received a well-directed blow -on my jaw. My mouth was bleeding now, but my mind was clear. My man -stood waiting until I rose, but I lay prone upon the ground considering -how I might get at him easily. A dozen men had gathered round and were -waiting the result of the quarrel, but Moleskin had dropped asleep on -the bench. I rose to my knees and reaching forward I caught Carroty by -the legs. With a strength of which, until then, I never thought myself -capable, I lifted my man clean off his feet, and threw him head foremost -over my shoulders to the ground behind. Knowing how to fall, he dropped -limply to the ground, receiving little hurt, and almost as soon as I -regained my balance, he was in front of me squaring out with fists in -approved fashion. I took up a posture of instinctive defence and waited. -My enemy struck out; I stooped to avoid the blow. He hit me, but not -before I landed a welt on the soft of his belly. My punch was good, and -he went down, making strange noises in his throat, and rubbing his guts -with both hands. His last hit had closed my left eye, but all fight was -out of Carroty; he would not face up again. The men returned to their -discussion, Moleskin slid from his bench and lay on the floor, and I -went on with my cooking. When Carroty recovered I gave him back his egg, -and he ate it as if nothing had happened to disturb him. He asked for a -bit of the chop, and I was so pleased with the thrashing I had given him -that I divided half the meat with the man. - -Later in the evening somebody tramped on Moleskin Joe and awoke him. - -"Who the hell thinks I'm a doormat?" he growled on getting to his feet, -and glowered round the room. No one answered. He went out with Carroty, -and the two of them got as drunk as they could hold. I was in bed when -they returned, and Carroty, full of a drunken man's courage, challenged -me again to "put them up to him." I pretended that I was asleep, and -took no notice of his antics, until he dragged me out of the bed. Stark -naked and mad with rage, I thrashed him until he shrieked for mercy. I -pressed him under me, and when he could neither move hand nor foot, I -told him where I was going to hit him, and kept him sometimes over two -minutes waiting for the blow. He was more than pleased when I gave him -his freedom, and he never evinced any further desire to fight me. - -"It's easy for anyone to thrash poor Carroty," said Joe, when I had -finished the battle. - -On Sunday we got drunk together in a speak-easy[8] near the model, and -it was with difficulty that we restrained Carroty from challenging -everybody whom he met to fistic encounter. By nightfall Moleskin counted -his money, and found that he had fourpence remaining. - -"I'm off to Kinlochleven in the morning," he said. "There's good graft -and good pay for a man in Kinlochleven now. I'm sick of prokin' in the -gutters here. Damn it all! who's goin' with me?" - -"I'm with you," gibbered Carroty, running his fingers through the -"blazing torch"--the term used by Joe when speaking of the red hair of -his mate. - -"I'll go too," I said impulsively. "I've only twopence left for the -journey, though." - -"Never mind that," said Moleskin absently. "There's a good time comin'." - -Kinlochleven is situated in the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands, -and I had often heard of the great job going on there, and in which -thousands of navvies were employed. It was said that the pay was good -and the work easy. That night I slept little, and when I slept my dreams -were of the journey before me at dawn, and the new adventures which -might be met with on the way. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[8] A shebeen. "You must speak easy in a shebeen when the police are -around." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE OPEN ROAD - - "The road runs north, the road runs south, and there foot-easy, - slow, - The tramp, God speed him! wanders forth, and nature's gentry go. - Gentlemen knights of the gravelled way, who neither toil nor spin, - Men who reck not whether or nay the landlord's rents come in, - Men who are close to the natal sod, who know not sin nor shame, - And Way of the World or Way of the Road, the end is much the same." - - --From _A Song of the Road_. - - -In the morning I was afoot before any of my mates, full of impatience, -and looking forward eagerly to the start. - -"Wake up, Moleskin!" I cried, as I bent over my mate, where he lay -snoring loudly in the bed; "it is time to be away." - -"It's not time yet, for I'm still sleepy," said Moleskin drowsily. "Slow -and easy goes far in a day," he added, and fell asleep again. I turned -my attention to Carroty. - -"Get up, Carroty!" I shouted. "It's time that we were out on our -journey." - -"What journey?" grumbled Carroty, propping himself up on his elbow in -the bed. - -"To Kinlochleven," I reminded him. - -"I never heard of it." - -"You said that you would go this morning," I informed him. "You said so -last night when you were drunk." - -"Well, if I said so, it must be so," said the red-haired one, and -slipped out of the blankets. Moleskin rose also, and as a proof of the -bond between us, we cooked our food in common on the hot-plate, and at -ten minutes to ten by the town clock we set out on the long road leading -to Kinlochleven. Our worldly wealth amounted to elevenpence, and the -distance to which we had set our faces was every inch, as the road -turned, of one hundred miles, or a six days' tramp according to the -computation of my two mates. The pace of the road is not a sharp one. -"Slow and easy goes far in a day," is a saying amongst us, and it sums -up the whole philosophy of the long journey. Besides our few pence, each -man possessed a pipe, a knife, and a box for holding matches. The -latter, being made of tin, was very useful for keeping the matches dry -when the rain soaked the clothing. In addition, each man carried, tied -to his belt, a tin can which would always come in handy for making tea, -cooking eggs, or drinking water from a wayside well. - -When we got clear of the town Moleskin opened his shirt front and -allowed the wind to play coolly against his hairy chest. - -"Man alive!" he exclaimed, "this wind runs over a fellow's chest like -the hands of a soncy wench!" Then he spoke of our journey. Carroty was -silent; he was a morbid fellow who had little to say, except when drunk, -and as for myself I was busy with my thoughts, and eager to tramp on at -a quicker pace. - -"We'll separate here, and each must go alone and pick up what he can lay -his hands on," said Moleskin. "As I'm an old dog on the road, far more -knowing than a torch-headed boozer or young mongrel, I'll go ahead and -lead the way. Whenever I manage to bum a bit of tucker from a house, -I'll put a white cross on the gatepost; and both of you can try your -luck after me at the same place. If you hear a hen making a noise in a -bunch of brambles, just look about there and see if you can pick up an -egg or two. It would be sort of natural for you, Carroty, to talk about -your wife and young brats, when speaking to the woman of a house. You -look miserable enough to have been married more than once. You're good -lookin', Flynn; just put on your blarney to the young wenches and maybe -they'll be good for the price of a drink for three. We'll sit for a bite -at the Ferry Inn, and that is a good six miles of country from our -feet." - -Without another word Joe slouched off, and Carroty and I sat down and -waited until he turned the corner of the road, a mile further along. The -moment he was out of sight, Carroty rose and trudged after him, his head -bent well over his breast and his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. -This slowness of movement disgusted me. I was afire to reach -Kinlochleven, but my mates were in no great hurry. They placed their -faith in getting there to-morrow, if to-morrow came. Each man was calmly -content, when working out the problem of the day's existence, to allow -the next day to do for itself. - -Carroty had barely turned the corner when I got up and followed. Over my -head the sun burned and scalded with its scorching blaze. The grey road -and its fine gravel, crunching under the heels of my boots, affected the -ears, and put the teeth on edge. Far in front, whenever I raised my -head, I could see the road winding in and out, now losing itself from my -view, and again, further on, reappearing, desolate, grey, and lonely as -ever. Although memories of the road are in a sense always pleasing to -me, the road itself invariably depressed me; the monotony of the same -everlasting stretch of dull gravelled earth gnawed at my soul. Most of -us, men of the road, long for comfort, for love, for the smile of a -woman, and the kiss of a child, but these things are denied to us. The -women shun us as lepers are shunned, the brainless girl who works with a -hoe in a turnip field will have nothing to do with a tramp navvy. The -children hide behind their mothers' petticoats when they see us coming, -frightened to death of the awful navvy man who carries away naughty -children, and never lets them back to their mothers again. - -He is a lonely man who wanders on the roads of a strange land, shunned -and despised by all men, and foul in the eyes of all women. Rising cold -in the morning from the shadow of the hedge where the bed of a night was -found, he turns out on his journey and begs for a crumb. High noon sees -nor wife nor mother prepare his mid-day meal, and there is no welcome -for him at an open door when the evening comes. Christ had a mother who -followed him all along the road to Calvary, but the poor tramp is seldom -followed even by a mother's prayers along the road where he carries the -cross of brotherly hate to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. - -Suddenly I saw a white cross on a gate in front of a little cottage. A -girl stood by the door, and I asked for a slice of bread. From the -inside of the house a woman cried out: "Don't give that fellow anything -to eat. We're sick of the likes of him." - -The maiden remonstrated. "Poor thing! he must eat just like ourselves," -she said. - -Once I heard one of the servant girls on Braxey Farm use the same words -when feeding a pig. I did not wait for my slice of bread. I walked on; -the girl called after me, but I never turned round to answer. And the -little dignity that yet remained made me feel very miserable, for I felt -that I was a man classed among swine, and that is a very bitter truth to -learn at eighteen. - -Houses were rare in the country, but alas! rarer were the crosses of -white. I had just been about two hours upon the journey, when as I was -rounding a bend of the road I came upon Carroty sitting on a bank with -his arms around a woman who sat beside him. I had been walking on the -grass to ease my feet, and he failed to hear my approach. When he saw -me, he looked half ashamed, and his companion gazed at me with a look -half cringing and half defiant. She put me in mind of Gourock Ellen. Her -face might have been handsome at one time, but it was blotched and -repugnant now. Vice had forestalled old age and left its traces on the -woman's features. Her eyes were hard as steel and looked as if they had -never been dimmed by tears. I wondered what Carroty could see in such a -person, and it was poor enough comfort to know that there was at least -one woman who looked with favour upon a tramp navvy. - -"Tell Moleskin that I'm not comin' any further," Carroty shouted after -me as I passed him by. - -"All right," I answered over my shoulder. Afterwards I passed two white -crosses, and at each I was refused even a crust of bread. "Moleskin has -got some, anyhow, and that is a comfort," I said to myself. Now I began -to feel hungry, and kept an eye in advance for the Ferry Inn. Passing by -a field which I could not see on account of the intervening hedgerow, I -heard a voice crying "Flynn! Flynn!" in a deep whisper. I stopped and -could hear some cows crop-cropping the grass in the field beyond. -"Flynn!" cried the voice again. I looked through the hedgerow and there -I saw Moleskin, the rascal, sitting on his hunkers under a cow and -milking the animal into his little tin can. When he had his own can full -I put mine through the branches and got it filled to the brim. Then my -mate dragged himself through the branches and asked me where I had left -Carroty. I told him about the woman. - -"The damned whelp! I might have known," said Joe, but I did not know -whether he referred to the woman or the man. We carried our milk cans -for a little distance, then turning off the road we sat down in the -corner of a field under a rugged tree and began our meagre meal. Joe -had only one slice of bread. This he divided into equal shares, and -when engaged in that work I asked him the meaning of the two white -crosses by the roadside, the two crosses, which as far as I could see, -had no beneficial results. - -"They were all right," said Joe. "I got food at the three places." - -"What happened to the other two slices?" I asked. - -"I gave it to a woman who was hungrier than myself," said Joe simply. - -We sat in a nice cosy place. Beside us rumbled a little stream; it -glanced like anything as it ran over the stones and fine sands in its -bed. From where we sat we could see it break in small ripples against -the wild iris and green rushes on the bank. From above, the gold of the -sunlight filtered through the waving leaves and played at hide and seek -all over our muck-red moleskin trousers. Far down an osier bed covered -the stream and hid it from our sight. From there a few birds flew -swiftly and perched on the tree above our heads and began to examine us -closely. Finding that we meant to do them no harm, and observing that -Moleskin threw away little scraps which might be eatable, one bold -little beggar came down, and with legs wide apart stood a short distance -away and surveyed us narrowly. Soon it began to pick up the crumbs, and -by-and-bye we had a score of strangers at our meal. - -Later we lay on our backs and smoked. 'Twas good to watch the blue of -the sky outside the line of leaves that shaded us from the sun. The -feeling of rest and ease was sublime. The birds consumed every crumb -which had been thrown to them; then they flew away and left us. When our -pipes were finished we washed our feet in the passing stream, and this -gave us great relief. Moleskin pared a corn; I turned my socks inside -out and hit down a nail which had come through the sole of my bluchers, -using a stone for a hammer. - -"Now we'll get along, Moleskin," I said, for I was in a hurry. - -"Along be damned!" cried my mate. "I'm goin' to have my dog-sleep."[9] - -"You have eaten," I said, "and you do not need your dog-sleep to-day." - -Joe refused to answer, and turning over on his side he closed his eyes. -At the end of ten minutes (his dog-sleep usually lasted for that length -of time), he rose to his feet, and walked towards the Clyde, the -foreshore of which spread out from the lower corner of the field. A -little distance out a yacht heaved on the waves, and a small boat lay on -the shingle, within six feet of the water. The tide was full. Joe caught -hold of the boat and proceeded to pull it towards the water, meanwhile -roaring at me to give him a hand. This was a new adventure. I pulled -with all my might, and in barely a minute's space of time the boat was -afloat and we were inside of it. Joe rowed for all he was worth, and -soon we were past the yacht and out in the deep sea. A man on the yacht -called to us, but Joe put down one oar and made a gesture with his hand. -The man became irate and vowed that he would send the police after us. -My mate took no further heed of the man. - -"Can you row?" he asked me. - -"I've never had an oar in my hand in my life," I said. - -"How much money have you?" he asked as he bent to his oars again. "I -gave all mine to that woman who was hungry." - -"I have only a penny left," I said. - -"We have to cross the Clyde somehow," said Joe, "and a penny would not -pay two men's fares on a ferry-boat. It is too far to walk to Glasgow, -so this is the only thing to do. I saw the blokes leavin' this boat when -we were at our grubbin'-up, so there was nothin' to be done but to take -a dog-sleep until they were out of the way." - -My respect for Joe's cleverness rose immediately. He was a mate of whom -anyone might have been proud. - -When once on the other side, we shoved the boat adrift; and went on the -road again, outside the town of Dumbarton. Joe took the lead along the -Lough Lomond road, and promised to wait for me when dusk was near at -hand. The afternoon was very successful; I soon had my pockets crammed -with bread, and I got three pipefuls of tobacco from three several men -when I asked for a chew from their plugs. An old lady gave me twopence -and later I learned that she had given Moleskin a penny. - -Far outside of Dumbarton in a wild country, I overtook my mate again. It -was now nearly nightfall, and the sun was hardly a hand's breadth above -the horizon. Moleskin was singing to himself as I came up on him. I -overheard one verse and this was the kind of it. It was a song which I -had heard often before sung by navvies in the models. - - - "Oh! fare you well to the bricks and mortar! - And fare you well to the hod and lime! - For now I'm courtin' the ganger's daughter, - And soon I'll lift my lyin' time." - - -He finished off at that, as I came near, and I noticed a heavy bulge -under his left oxter between the coat and waistcoat. It was something -new; I asked him what it was, but he wouldn't tell me. The road ran -through a rocky moor, but here and there clumps of hazel bounded our -way. We could see at times soft-eyed curious Highland steers gazing out -at us from amongst the bushes, as if they were surprised to see human -beings in that deserted neighbourhood. When we stood and looked at them -they snorted in contempt and crashed away from our sight through the -copsewood. - -"I think that we'll doss here for the night," said Moleskin when we had -walked about a mile further. He crawled over a wayside dyke and threw -down the bundle which he had up to that time concealed under his coat. -It was a dead hen. - -"The corpse of a hen," said Joe with a laugh. "Now we've got to drum -up," he went on, "and get some supper before the dew falls. It is a hard -job to light a fire when the night is on." - -From experience I knew this to be the case; so together we broke rotten -hazel twigs, collected some dry brambles from the undergrowth and built -them in a heap. Joe placed some crisp moss under the pile; I applied a -match and in a moment we had a brightly blazing fire. I emptied my -pockets, proud to display the results of the afternoon's work, which, -when totalled, consisted of four slices of bread, twopence, and about -one half-ounce of tobacco. Joe produced some more bread, his penny, and -three little packets which contained tea, sugar, and salt. These, he -told me, he had procured from a young girl in a ploughman's cottage. - -"But the hen, Moleskin--where did you get that?" I asked, when I had -gathered in some extra wood for the fire. - -"On the king's highway, Flynn," he added with a touch of pardonable -pride. "Coaxed it near me with crumbs until I nabbed it. It made an -awful fuss when I was wringing its neck, but no one turned up, more by -good luck than anything else. I never caught any hen that made such a -noise in all my life before." - -"You are used to it then!" I exclaimed. - -"Of course I am," was the answer. "When you are on the road as long as -I've been on it, you'll be as big a belly-thief[10] as myself." - -It was fine to look around as the sun went down. Far west the sky was a -dark red, the colour of old wine. A pale moon had stolen up the eastern -sky, and it hung by its horn from the blue above us. Looking up at it, -my thoughts turned to home, and I wondered what my own people would say -if they saw me out here on the ghostly moor along with old Moleskin. - -I searched around for water, and found a little well with the moon at -the bottom. As I bent closer the moon disappeared, and I could see the -white sand beneath. I thought that the well was very holy, it looked so -peaceful and calm out there alone in the wild place. I said to myself, -"Has anybody ever seen it before? What purpose does it serve here?" I -filled the billies, and when turning away I noticed that a pair of eyes -were gazing at me from the depths of the near thicket where a heavy -darkness had settled. I felt a little bit frightened, and hurried -towards the fire, and once there I looked back. A large roan steer came -into the clearing and drank at the well. Another followed, and another. -Their spreading horns glistened in the moonshine, and Joe and I watched -them from where we sat. - -"Will I take some more water here?" I asked my mate, as he cleaned out -the hen, using the contents of the second billy in the operation. - -"Wait a minute till all the bullocks have drunk enough," he replied. -"It's a pity to drive them away." - -The fowl was cooked whole on the ashes, and we ate it with great relish. -When the meal was finished, Moleskin flung away the bones. - -"The skeleton of the feast," he remarked sadly. - -Next day was dry, and we got plenty of food, food enough and to spare, -and we made much progress on the journey north. Joe had an argument with -a ploughman. This was the way of it. - -Coming round a bend of the road we met a man with the wet clay of the -newly turned earth heavy on his shoes. He was knock-kneed in the manner -of ploughmen who place their feet against the slant of the furrows which -they follow day by day. He was a decent man, and he told Moleskin as -much when my mate asked him for a chew of tobacco. - -"I dinna gang aboot lookin' for work and prayin' to God that I dinna get -it, like you men," said the plougher. "I'm a decent man, and I work hard -and hae no reason to gang about beggin'." - -I was turning my wits upside down for a sarcastic answer, when Joe broke -in. - -"You're too damned decent!" he answered. "If you weren't, you'd give a -man a plug of tobacco when he asks for it in a friendly way, you -God-forsaken, thran-faced bell-wether, you!" - -"If you did your work well and take a job when you get one, you'd have -tobacco of your own," said the ploughman. "Forbye you would have a hoose -and a wife and a dinner ready for you when you went hame in the evenin'. -As it is, you're daunderin' aboot like a lost flea, too lazy to leeve -and too afeard to dee." - -"By Christ! I wouldn't be in your shoes, anyway," Joe broke in quietly -and soberly, a sign that he was aware of having encountered an enemy -worthy of his steel. "A man might as well expect an old sow to go up a -tree backwards and whistle like a thrush, as expect decency from a -nipple-noddled ninny-hammer like you. If you were a man like me, you -would not be tied to a woman's apron strings all your life; you would be -fit to take your turn and pay for it. Look at me! I'm not at the beck -and call of any woman that takes a calf fancy for me." - -"Who would take a fancy to you?" - -"You marry a wench and set up a beggarly house," said Joe, without -taking any heed of the interruption. "You work fourteen or fifteen hours -a day for every day of the year. If you find the company of another -woman pleasant you have your old crow to jaw at you from the chimney -corner. You'll bring up a breed of children that will leave you when you -need them most. Your wife will get old, her teeth will fall out, and her -hair will get thin, until she becomes as bald as the sole of your foot. -She'll get uglier until you loathe the sight of her, and find one day -that you cannot kiss her for the love of God. But all the time you'll -have to stay with her, growl at her, and nothin' before both of you but -the grave or the workhouse. If you are as clever a cadger as me why do -you suffer all this?" - -"Because I'm a decent man," said the plougher. - -Joe straightened up as if seriously insulted. "Well, I'm damned!" he -muttered and continued on his journey. "It's the first time ever I got -the worst of an argument, Flynn," he said after we had gone out of the -sight of the ploughman, and he kept repeating this phrase for the rest -of the day. For myself, I thought that Joe got the best of the argument, -and I pointed out the merits of his sarcastic remarks and proved to him -that if his opponent had not been a brainless man, he would be aware of -defeat after the first exchange of sallies. - -"But that about the decent man was one up for him," Joe interrupted. - -"It was the only remark which the man was able to make," I said. "The -pig has its grunt, the bull its bellow, the cock its crow, and the -plougher his boasted decency. To each his crow, grunt, boast, or bellow, -and to all their ignorance. It is impossible to argue against ignorance, -Moleskin. It is proof against sarcasm and satire and is blind to its own -failings and the merits of clever men like you." - -Joe brightened perceptibly, and he walked along with elated stride. - -"You're very clever, Flynn," he said. "And you think I won?" - -"You certainly did. The last shot thrown at you struck the man who threw -it full in the face. He admitted that he suffered because of his -decency." - -Joe was now quite pleased with himself, and the rest of the day passed -without any further adventure. - -On the day following it rained and rained. We tasted the dye of our caps -as the water washed it down our faces into our mouths. By noon we came -to the crest of a hill and looked into a wild sweep of valley below. The -valley--it was Glencoe--from its centre had a reach of miles on either -side, and standing on its rim we were mere midges perched on the -copestones of an amphitheatre set apart for the play of giants. Far -away, amongst grey boulders that burrowed into steep inclines, we could -see a pigmy cottage sending a wreath of blue spectral smoke into the -air. No other sign of human life could be seen. The cottage was subdued -by its surroundings, the movement of the ascending smoke was a sacrilege -against the spell of the desolate places. - -"It looks lonely," I said to my mate. - -"As hell!" he added, taking up the words as they fell from my tongue. - -We took our meal of bread and water on the ledge and saved up the crumbs -for our supper. When night came we turned into a field that lay near the -cottage, which we had seen from a distance earlier in the day. - -"It's a god's charity to have a shut gate between us and the world," -said Moleskin, as he fastened the bars of the fence. Some bullocks were -resting under a hazel clump. These we chased away, and sat down on the -spot which their bellies had warmed, and endeavoured to light our fire. -From under grey rocks, and from the crevices in the stone dyke, we -picked out light, dry twigs, and in the course of an hour we had a -blazing flame, around which we dried our wet clothes. The clouds had -cleared away and the moon came out silently from behind the shadow of -the hills. The night was calm as the face of a sleeping girl. - -We lay down together when we had eaten our crumbs, but for a long while -I kept awake. A wind, soft as the breath of a child, ruffled the bushes -beside us and died away in a long-drawn swoon. Far in the distance I -could hear another, for it was the night of many winds, beating against -the bald peaks that thrust their pointed spires into the mystery of the -heavens. From time to time I could hear the falling earth as it was -loosened from its century-long resting place and flung heavily into the -womb of some fathomless abyss. God was still busy with the work of -creation! - -I was close to the earth, almost part of it, and the smell of the wet -sod was heavy in my nostrils. It was the breath of the world, the world -that was in the eternal throes of change all around me. Nature was -restless and throbbing with movement; streams were gliding forward -filled with a longing for unknown waters; winds were moving to and fro -with the indecision of homeless wayfarers; leaves were dropping from the -brown branches, falling down the curves of the wind silently and slowly -to the great earth that whispered out the secret of everlasting change. -The hazel clump twined its trellises of branches overhead, leaving -spaces at random for the eternal glory of the stars to filter through -and rest on our faces. Joe, bearded and wrinkled, slept and dreamt -perhaps of some night's heavy drinking and desperate fighting, or maybe -his dreams were of some weary shift which had been laboured out in the -lonely places of the world. - -Coming across the line of hills could be heard the gathering of the sea, -and the chant of the deep waters that were for ever voicing their -secrets to the throbbing shores. - -The fire burned down but I could not go to sleep. I looked in the dying -embers, and saw pictures in the flames and the redness; pictures of men -and women, and strange pictures of forlorn hopes and blasted -expectations. I saw weary kinless outcasts wandering over deserted -roads, shunned and accursed of all their kind. Also I saw women, old -women, who dragged out a sordid existence, labouring like beasts of -burden from the cradle to the grave. Also pictures of young women with -the blood of early life in them, and the fulness of maiden promise in -them, walking one by one in the streets of the midnight city--young -women, fair and beautiful, who knew of an easier means of livelihood -than that which is offered by learning the uses of sewing-needle or -loom-spindle in fetid garret or steam-driven mill. In the flames and the -redness I saw pictures of men and women who suffered; for in that, and -that only, there is very little change through all the ages. Thinking -thus I fell asleep. - -When I awoke, all the glory of the naked world was aflame with the early -sun. The red mud of our moleskins blended in harmony with the tints of -the great dawn. The bullocks were busy with their breakfasts and bore us -no ill-will for the wrong which we had done them the night before. Two -snails had crawled over Joe's coat, leaving a trail of slimy silver -behind them, and a couple of beetles had found a resting-place in the -seams of his velvet waistcoat. He rubbed his eyes when I called to him -and sat up. - -The snails curled up in mute protest on the ground, and the beetles -hurried off and lost themselves amid the blades of grass. Joe made no -effort to kill the insects. He lifted the snails off his coat and laid -them down easily on the grass. "Run, you little devils!" he said with a -laugh, as he looked at the scurrying beetles. "You haven't got hold of -me yet, mind." - -I never saw Joe kill an insect. He did not like to do so, he often told -me. "If we think evil of insects, what will they think of us?" he said -to me once. As for myself, I have never killed an insect knowingly in -all my life. My house for so long has been the wide world, that I can -afford to look leniently on all other inmates, animal or human. Four -walls coffin the human sympathies. - -When I rose to my feet I felt stiff and sore, and there was nothing to -eat for breakfast. My mate alluded to this when he said bitterly: "I -wish to God that I was a bullock!" - -A crow was perched on a bush some distance away, its head a little to -one side, and it kept eyeing us with a look of half quizzical contempt. -When Joe saw it he jumped to his feet. - -"A hooded crow!" he exclaimed. - -"I think that it is as well to start off," I said. "We must try and pick -up something for breakfast." - -My mate was still gazing at the tree, and he took no heed to my remark. -"A hooded crow!" he repeated, and lifting a stone flung it at the bird. - -"What about it?" I asked. - -"Them birds, they eat dead men," Moleskin answered, as the crow flew -away. "There was Muck Devaney--Red Muck we called him--and he worked at -the Toward waterworks three winters ago. Red Muck had a temper like an -Orangeman, and so had the ganger. The two of them had a row about some -contract job, and Devaney lifted his lyin' time and jacked the graft -altogether. There was a heavy snow on the ground when he left our shack -in the evenin', and no sooner were his heels out of sight than a -blizzard came on. You know Toward Mountain, Flynn? Yes. Well, it is -seven long miles from the top of the hill to the nearest town. Devaney -never finished his journey. We found him when the thaw came on, and he -was lyin' stiff as a bone in a heap of snow. And them hooded crows! -There was dozens of them pickin' the flesh from his naked -shoulder-blades. They had eat the very guts clean out of Red Muck, so we -had to bury him as naked as a newborn baby. By God! Flynn, they're one -of the things that I am afraid of in this world, them same hooded crows. -Just think of it! maybe that one that I just threw the stone at was one -of them as gobbled up the flesh of Muck Devaney." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] A sleep on an empty stomach in the full sun. - -[10] One who steals to satisfy his hunger. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE COCK OF THE NORTH - - Though up may be up and down be down, - Time will make everything even, - And the man who starves at Greenock town - Will fatten at Kinlochleven; - - So what does it matter if time be fleet, - And life sends no one to love us? - We've the dust of the roadway under our feet - And a smother of stars above us. - - --_A Wee Song._ - - -I think that the two verses given above were the best verses of a song -which I wrote on a bit of tea-paper and read to Moleskin on the last day -of our journey to Kinlochleven. Anyhow, they are the only two which I -remember. Since I had read part of the poem "Evelyn Hope," I was -possessed of a leaning towards lilting rhymes, and now and again I would -sit down and scribble a few lines of a song on a piece of paper. Times -were when I had a burning desire to read my effusions to Moleskin, but -always I desisted, thinking that he would perhaps laugh at me, or call -me fool. Perhaps I would sink in my mate's estimation. I began to like -Joe more and more, and daily it became apparent that he had a genuine -liking for me. - -We were now six days on our journey. Charity was cold, while -belly-thefts were few and far between. We were hungry, and the weather -being very hot at high noon, Moleskin lay down and had his dog-sleep. I -wrote a few other verses in addition to those which herald this -chapter, and read them to my mate when he awoke. When I had finished I -asked Joe how he liked my poem. - -"It's a great song," answered Moleskin. "You're nearly as good a poet as -Two-shift Mullholland." - -"Two-shift Mullholland?" I repeated. "I've never heard of him. Do you -know anything written by him?" - -"Of course I do. Have you never heard of 'The Shootin' of the Crow'?" - -"Never," I replied. - -"You're more ignorant than I thought," said Joe, and without any further -explanation he started and sang the following song. - - - "THE SHOOTIN' OF THE CROW. - - "Come all you true-born navvies, attend unto my lay! - While walkin' down through Glasgow town, 'twas just the other day, - I met with Hell-fire Gahey, and he says to me: 'Hallo! - Maloney has got seven days for shootin' of the crow; - With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy. - - "'It happened near beside the docks in Moran's pub, I'm told - Maloney had been on the booze, Maloney had a cold, - Maloney had no beer to drink, Maloney had no tin, - Maloney could not pay his way and so they ran him in, - With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy.' - - "The judge he saw Maloney and he says, 'You're up again! - To sentence you to seven days it gives me greatest pain, - My sorrow at your woeful plight I try for to control; - And may the Lord, Maloney, have mercy on your soul, - And your fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy.' - - "Oh! labour in the prison yard, 'tis very hard to bear, - And many a honest navvy man may sometimes enter there; - So here's to brave Maloney, and may he never go - Again to work in prison for the shootin' of the crow, - With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy." - - -The reader of this story can well judge my utter literary simplicity at -the time when I tell him that I was angry with Joe for the criticism he -passed upon my poem. While blind to the defects of my own verses I was -wide awake to those of Mullholland, and I waited, angrily eager, until -Joe finished the song. - -"It's rotten!" I exclaimed. "You surely do not think that it is better -than mine. What does 'fol the diddle' mean? A judge would not say that -to a prisoner. Neither would he say, 'May the Lord have mercy on your -soul,' unless he was going to pass the sentence of death on the man." - -"What you say is quite right," replied Joe. "But a song to be any good -at all must have a lilt at the tail of it; and as to the judge sayin', -'May the Lord have mercy on your soul,' maybe he didn't say it, but if -you have 'control' at the end of one line, what must you have at the end -of the next one, cully? 'May the Lord have mercy on your soul' may be -wrong. I'll not misdoubt that. But doesn't it fit in nicely?" - -Moleskin gave me a square look of triumph, and went on with his -harangue. - -"Barrin' these two things, the song is a true one. Maloney did get seven -days' hard for shootin' the crow, and I mind it myself. On the night of -his release I saw him in Moran's model by the wharf, and it was in that -same model that Mullholland sat down and wrote the song that I have sung -to you. It's a true song, so help me God! but yours!--How do _you_ know -that we'll fatten at Kinlochleven? More apt to go empty-gutted there, if -you believe me! Then you say 'up is up, and down is down.' Who says that -they are not? No one will give the lie to that, and what's the good of -sayin' a thing that everyone knows about? You've not even a lilt at the -tail of your screed, so it's not a song, nor half a song; it's not even -a decent 'Come-all-you.' Honest to God, you're a fool, Flynn! Wait till -you hear Broken-Snout Clancy sing 'The Bold Navvy Man!' That'll be the -song that will make your heart warm. But your song was no good at all, -Flynn. If it had only a lilt to it itself, it might be middlin'." - -I recited the verse about Evelyn Hope, and when I finished, Joe asked me -what it was about. I confessed that I did not exactly know, and for an -hour afterwards we walked together in silence. - -Late in the evening we came to the King's Arms, a lonely public-house -half-way between the Bridge of Orchy and Kinlochleven. We hung around -the building until night fell, for Joe became interested in an outhouse -where hens were roosting. By an estimation of the stars it was nearly -midnight when both of us took off our boots, and approached the -henhouse. The door was locked, but my mate inserted a pointed steel bar, -which he always carried in his pocket, in the keyhole, and after he had -worked for half a minute the door swung open and he crept in. - -"Leave all to me," he said in a whisper. - -The hens were restless, and made little hiccoughy noises in their -throats, noises that were not nice to listen to. I stood in the centre -of the building while Joe groped cautiously around. After a little while -he passed me and I could see his big gaunt form in the doorway. - -"Come away," he whispered. - -About twenty yards from the inn he threw down that which he carried and -we proceeded to put on our boots. - -"It's a rooster," he said, pointing to the dead fowl; "a young soft one -too. When our boots are on, we'll slide along for a mile or so and drum -up. It's not the thing to cook your fowl on the spot where you stole it. -I mind once when I lifted a young pig----" - -Suddenly the young rooster fluttered to its feet and started to crow. - -"Holy hell!" cried Moleskin, and jumping to his feet he flung one of his -boots at the fowl. The aim was bad, and the bird zig-zagged off, -crowing loudly. Both of us gave chase. - -The bird was a very demon. Several times when we thought that we had -laid hands on it, it doubled in its tracks like a cornered fox and -eluded us. Once I tried to hit it with my foot, but the blow swung -clear, and my hobnailed boot took Moleskin on the shin, causing him to -swear deeply. - -"Fall on it, Joe; it's the only way!" I cried softly. - -"Fall be damned! You might as well try to fall on a moonbeam." - -A light appeared at the window of the public-house; a sash was thrown -open, and somebody shouted, "Who is there?" - -"Can you get hold of it?" asked Joe, as he stood to clean the sweat from -his unshaven face. - -"I cannot," I answered. "It's a wonderful bird." - -"Wonderful damned fraud!" said my mate bitterly. "Why didn't it die -decent?" - -"Who's there? I say," shouted the man at the window. I made a desperate -rush after the rooster, and grabbed it by the neck. - -"It will not get away this time, anyhow," I said. - -"Where is my other boot, Flynn?" called out Joe. - -"I do not know," I replied truthfully. - -The door opened, and Moleskin's boot was not to be found. We sank into -the shadow of the earth and waited, meanwhile groping around with our -hands for the missing property. Across the level a man came towards us -slowly and cautiously. - -"We had better run for it," I said. - -We rushed off like the wind, and the stranger panted in pursuit behind -us. Joe with a single boot on, struck the ground heavily with one foot; -the other made no sound. He struck his toe on a rock and swore; when he -struck it a second time he stopped like a shot and turned round. The -pursuer came to a halt also. - -"If you come another step nearer, I'll batter your head into jelly!" -roared Moleskin. The man turned hurriedly, and went back. Feeling -relieved we walked on for a long distance, until we came to a stream. -Here I lit a fire, plucked the rooster and cooked it, while Joe dressed -his toe, and cursed the fowl that caused him such a calamity. I gave one -of my boots to Joe and threw the other one away. Joe was wounded, and -being used in my early days to go barefooted, I always hated the -imprisonment of boots. I determined to go barefooted into Kinlochleven. - -"Do you hear it?" Joe suddenly cried, jumping up and grabbing my arm. - -I listened, and the sound of exploding dynamite could be heard in the -far distance. - -"The navvies on the night-shift, blastin' rocks in Kinlochleven!" cried -Joe, jumping to his feet and waving a wing of the fowl over his head. -"Hurrah! There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it. -Hurrah!" - -"Hurrah!" I shouted, for I was glad that our travels were near at an -end. - -Although it was a long cry till the dawn, we kicked our fire in to the -air and set out again on our journey, Joe limping, and myself -barefooted. We finished our supper as we walked, and each man was -silent, busy with his own thoughts. - -For myself I wanted to make some money and send it home to my own people -in Glenmornan. I reasoned with myself that it was unjust for my parents -to expect me to work for their betterment. Finding it hard enough to -earn my own livelihood, why should I irk myself about them? I was, like -Moleskin, an Ishmaelite, who without raising my hand against every man, -had every man's hand against me. Men like Moleskin and myself are -trodden underfoot, that others may enjoy the fruit of centuries of -enlightenment. I cursed the day that first saw me, but, strangely -inconsistent with this train of thought, I was eager to get on to -Kinlochleven and make money to send to my own people in Glenmornan. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -MECCA - - "Oh, God! that this was ended; that this our toil was past! - Our cattle die untended; our lea-lands wither fast; - Our bread is lacking leaven; our life is lacking friends, - And short's our prayer to Heaven for all that Heaven sends." - - --From _God's Poor_. - - -The cold tang of the dawn was already in the air and the smell of the -earth was keen in our nostrils, when Moleskin and I breasted the steep -shoulder of a hill together, and saw the outer line of derricks standing -gaunt and motionless against the bald cliffs of Kinlochleven. From the -crest of the rise we could see the lilac gray vesture of the twilight -unfold itself from off the naked peaks that stood out boldly in the -ghostly air like carved gargoyles of some mammoth sculpture. A sense of -strange remoteness troubled the mind, and in the half-light the far -distances seemed vague and unearthly, and we felt like two atoms frozen -into a sea of silence amidst the splendour of complete isolation. A long -way off a line of hills stood up, high as the winds, and over their -storm-scarred ribs we saw or fancied we saw the milky white torrents -falling. We could not hear the sound of falling waters; the white frothy -torrents were the ghosts of streams. - -The mood or spell was one of a moment. A derrick near at hand clawed out -with a lean arm, and lifted a bucket of red muck into the air, then -turned noisily on its pivot, and was relieved of its burden. The sun -burst out suddenly like an opening rose, and the garments of the day -were thrown across the world. One rude cabin sent up a gray spiral of -smoke into the air, then another and another. We sat on a rock, lit our -pipes, and gazed on the Mecca of our hopes. - -A sleepy hollow lay below; and within it a muddle of shacks, roofed with -tarred canvas, and built of driven piles, were huddled together in -bewildering confusion. These were surrounded by puddles, heaps of -disused wood, tins, bottles, and all manner of discarded rubbish. Some -of the shacks had windows, most of them had none; some had doors facing -north, some south; everything was in a most haphazard condition, and it -looked as if the buildings had dropped out of the sky by accident, and -were just allowed to remain where they had fallen. The time was now five -o'clock in the morning; the night-shift men were still at work and the -pounding of hammers and grating noises of drills could be heard -distinctly. The day-shift men, already out of bed, were busily engaged -preparing breakfast, and we could see them hopping half-naked around the -cabins, carrying pans and smoking tins in their hands, and roaring at -one another as if all were in a bad temper. - -"I'm goin' to nose around and look for a pair of understandin's," said -Joe, as he rose to his feet and sauntered away. "You wait here until I -come back." - -In fifteen minutes' time he returned, carrying a pair of well-worn -boots, which he gave to me. I put them on, and then together we went -towards the nearest cabin. - -Although it was high mid-summer the slush around the dwelling rose over -our boots, and dropped between the leather and our stockings. We entered -the building, which was a large roomy single compartment that served the -purpose of bedroom, eating-room, dressing-room, and gambling saloon. -Some of the inmates had sat up all night playing banker, and they were -still squatting around a rough plank where silver and copper coins -clanked noisily in the intervals between the game. The room, forty feet -square, and ten foot high, contained fifty bed-places, which were ranged -around the walls, and which rose one over the other in three tiers -reaching from the ground to the ceiling. A spring oozed through the -earthen floor, which was nothing but a puddle of sticky clay and water. - -A dozen or more frying-pans, crammed with musty, sizzling slices of -bacon, were jumbled together on the red hot-plate in the centre of the -room, and here and there amid the pile of pans, little black sooty cans -of brewing tea bubbled merrily. The odour of the rank tea was even -stronger than that of the roasting meat. - -The men were very ragged, and each of them was covered with a fine -coating of good healthy clay. The muck was caked brown on the bare arms, -and a man, by contracting his muscles firmly, could break the dirt clear -off his skin in hard, dry scales. No person of all those on whom I -looked had shaved for many months, and the hair stood out strongly from -their cheeks and jowls. I myself was the only hairless faced individual -there. I had not begun to shave then, and even now I only shave once a -fortnight. A few of the men were still in bed, and many were just -turning out of their bunks. On rising each man stood stark naked on the -floor, prior to dressing for the day. None were ashamed of their -nakedness: the false modesty of civilisation is unknown to the outside -places. To most people the sight of the naked human body is repulsive, -and they think that for gracefulness of form and symmetry of outline -man's body is much inferior to that of the animals of the field. I -suppose all people, women especially, are conscious of this, for nothing -else can explain the desire to improve nature's handiwork which is -inherent in all human beings. - -Joe and I approached the gamblers and surveyed the game, looking over -the shoulders of one of the players. - -"Much luck?" inquired my mate. - -"Not much," answered the man beside him, looking up wearily, although in -his eyes the passion of the game still burned brightly. - -"At it all night?" - -"All night," replied the player, wearily picking up the cards which had -been dealt out and throwing them away with an air of disgust. - -"I'm broke," he cried, and rising from his seat on the ground, he began -to prepare his meal. The other gamblers played on, and took no notice of -their friend's withdrawal. - -"It's nearly time that you gamblers stopped," someone shouted from -amidst the steam of the frying meat. - -"Hold your damned tongue," roared one player, who held the bank and who -was overtaking the losses of the night. - -"Will someone cook my grub?" asked another. - -"Play up and never mind your mealy grub, you gutsy whelp!" snarled a -third, who was losing heavily and who had forgotten everything but the -outcome of the game. Thus they played until the whistle sounded, calling -all out to work; and then each man snatched up a crust of bread, or a -couple of slices of cold ham, and went out to work in the barrow-squads -or muck-gangs where thousands laboured day by day. - -Meanwhile my mate and I had not been idle. I asked several questions -about the work while Joe looked for food as if nothing else in the world -mattered. Having urged a young fellow to share his breakfast with me, he -then nosed about on his own behalf, and a few minutes later when I -glanced around me I saw my pal sitting on the corner of a ground bunk, -munching a chunk of stale bread and gulping down mighty mouthfuls of -black tea from the sooty can in which it had been brewed. On seeing me -watching him he lowered his left eyelid slightly, and went solemnly on -with his repast. - -"We'll go out and chase up a job now," said Moleskin, emptying his can -of its contents with a final sough. "It will be easy to get a start. Red -Billy Davis, old dog that he is, wants three hammermen, and we'll go to -him and get snared while it is yet early in the day." - -"But how do you know that there are three men wanted?" I asked. "I heard -nothing about it, although I asked several persons if there was any -chance of a job." - -"You've a lot to learn, cully," answered Moleskin. "The open ear is -better than the open mouth. I was listenin' while you were lookin' -around, and by the talk of the men I found out a thing or two. Come -along." - -We went out, full of belly and full of hope, and sought for Red Billy -Davis and his squad of hammermen. I had great faith in Moleskin, and now -being fully conscious of his superior knowledge I was ready to follow -him anywhere. After a long search, we encountered a man who sat on the -idle arm of a crane, whittling shavings off a splinter of wood with his -clasp-knife. The man was heavily bearded and extremely dirty. When he -saw us approaching he rose and looked at my mate. - -"Moleskin, by God!" he exclaimed, closing the knife and putting it in -his pocket. "Are you lookin' for a job?" - -"Can you snare an old hare this mornin'?" asked Joe. - -"H'm!" said the man. - -"Pay?" asked Joe laconically. - -"A tanner an hour, overtime seven and a half," said the man with the -whiskers. - -"The hammer?" asked Joe. - -"Hammer and jumper," answered the man. "You can take off your coat now." - -"This mate of mine is lookin' for work, too," said Joe, pointing at me. - -"He's light of shoulder and lean as a rake," replied the bearded man, -with undisguised contempt in his voice. - -My temper was up in an instant. I took a step forward with the intention -of pulling the old red-haired buck off his seat, when my mate put in a -word on my behalf. - -"He knocked out Carroty Dan in Burn's model," said Joe, by way of -recommendation, and my anger gave way to pride there and then. - -"If that is so he can take off his coat too," said the old fellow, -pulling out his clasp-knife and restarting on the rod. "Hammers and -jumpers are down in the cuttin', the dynamite is in the cabin at the far -end on the right. Slide." - -"Come back, lean-shanks," he called to me as I turned to go. "What is -your name?" he asked, when I turned round. - -"Dermod Flynn," I replied. - -"You have to pay me four shillin's when you lift your first pay," said -Davis. - -"That be damned!" interrupted Moleskin. - -"Four shillin's," repeated Red Billy, laying down his clasp-knife and -taking out a note-book and making an entry. "That's the price I charge -for a pair of boots like them." - -Moleskin looked at my boots, which it appears he had stolen from Red -Billy in the morning. Then he edged nearer to the ganger. - -"Put the cost against me," he said. "I'll give you two and a tanner for -the understandin's." - -"Two and a tanner it is," said Red Billy, and shut the book. - -"You must let me pay half," I said to Joe later. - -"Not at all," he replied. "I have the best of the bargain." - -He put his hand in his pocket and drew out something. It was the -clasp-knife that Red Billy placed on the ground when making the entry in -his note-book. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE MAN WHO THRASHED CARROTY DAN - - "He could fight like a red, roaring bull." - - --MOLESKIN JOE. - - -Sixpence an hour meant thirty shillings a week, and a man was allowed to -work overtime until he fell at his shift. For Sunday work ninepence an -hour was given, so the navvies told me, and now I looked forward to the -time when I would have money enough and to spare. In anticipation I -computed my weekly earnings as amounting to two pounds ten, and I dreamt -of a day in the near future when I could again go south, find Norah -Ryan, and take her home as my wife to Glenmornan. I never thought of -making my home in a strange land. Oh! what dreams came to me that -morning as I took my place among the forty ragged members of Red Billy's -gang! Life opened freshly; my morbid fancies were dispelled, and I -blessed the day that saw my birth. I looked forward to the future and -said that it was time for me to begin saving money. When a man is in -misery he recoils from the thoughts of the future, but when he is happy -he looks forward in eager delight to the time to come. - -The principal labour of Red Billy's gang was rock-blasting. This work is -very dangerous and requires skilful handling of the hammer. In the art -of the hammer I was quite an adept, for did I not work under Horse Roche -on the ---- Railway before setting out for Kinlochleven? Still, for all -that, I have known men who could not use a hammer rightly if they worked -with one until the crack of doom. - -I was new to the work of the jumper gang, but I soon learned how -operations were performed. One man--the "holder"--sat on the rock which -was to be bored, his legs straight out in front of him and well apart. -Between his knees he held the tempered steel drill with its sharp nose -thrust into the rock. The drill or "jumper" is about five feet long, and -the blunt upper end is rounded to receive the full force of the -descending hammer. Five men worked each drill, one holding it to the -rock while the other four struck it with their hammers in rotation. The -work requires nerve and skill, for the smallest error in a striker's -judgment would be fatal to the holder. The hammer is swung clear from -the hip and travels eighteen feet or more before it comes in contact -with the inch-square upper end of the jumper. The whole course of the -blow is calculated instinctively before the hammer rises to the swing. -This work is classed as unskilled labour. - -When it is considered that men often work the whole ten-hour shift with -the eternal hammer in their hands it is really a wonder that more -accidents do not take place, especially since the labour is often -performed after a night's heavy drinking or gambling. A holder is seldom -wounded; when he is struck he dies. Only once have I seen a man thus get -killed. The descending hammer flew clear of the jumper and caught the -poor fellow over the temple, knocking him stiff dead. - -Red Billy's gang was divided into squads, each consisting of five -persons. We completed a squad not filled up before our arrival, and -proceeded to work with our two hammers. Stripped to our trousers and -shirt, and puffing happily at our pipes, we were soon into the lie of -the job, and swung our heavy hammers over our heads to the virile music -of meeting steel. Most of the men knew Joe. He had worked somewhere and -at some time with most on the place, and all had a warm word of welcome -for Moleskin. "By God, it's Moleskin! Have you a chew of 'baccy to -spare?" was the usual form of greeting. There was no handshake. It is -unknown among the navvies, just as kissing is unknown in Glenmornan. For -a few hours nobody took any notice of me, but at last my mate introduced -me to several of those who had gathered around, when we took advantage -of Red Billy's absence to fill our pipes and set them alight. - -"Do you know that kid there, that mate of mine?" he asked, pointing at -me with his pipe-shank. I felt confused, for every eye was fixed on me, -and lifting my hammer I turned to my work, trying thus to hide my -self-consciousness. - -"A blackleg without the spunk of a sparrow!" said one man, a -tough-looking fellow with the thumb of one hand missing, who, not -satisfied with taking off his coat to work, had taken off his shirt as -well. "What the hell are you workin' for when the ganger is out of -sight?" - -I felt nettled and dropped my hammer. - -"I did not know that it was wrong to work when the ganger was out of -sight," I said to the man who had spoken. "But if you want to shove it -on to me you are in the wrong shop!" - -"That's the way to speak, Flynn," said Moleskin approvingly. Then he -turned to the rest of the men. - -"That kid, that mate of mine, rose stripped naked from his bed and -thrashed Carroty Dan in Burn's model lodging-house," he said. "Now it -takes a good man to thrash Carroty." - -"_I_ knocked Carroty out," said the man who accused me of working when -the ganger was out of sight, and he looked covertly in my direction. - -"There's a chance for you, Flynn!" cried Moleskin, in a delighted -voice. "You'll never get the like of it again. Just pitch into Hell-fire -Gahey and show him how you handle your pair of fives." - -Gahey looked at me openly and eagerly, evincing all tokens of pleasure -and willingness to come to fistic conclusions with me there and then. As -for myself, I felt in just the right mood for a bit of a tussle, but at -that moment Red Billy appeared from behind the crane handle and shouted -across angrily: - -"Come along, you God-damned, forsaken, lousy, beggarly, forespent -wastrels, and get some work done!" he cried. - -"Can a man not get time to light his pipe?" remonstrated Moleskin. - -"Time in hell!" shouted Billy. "You're not paid for strikin' matches -here." - -We started work again; the fight was off for the moment, and I felt -sorry. It is disappointing to rise to a pitch of excitement over -nothing; and a fight keeps a man alert and alive. - -Having bored the rock through to the depth of four or five feet, we -placed dynamite in the hole, attached a fuse, lit it, and hurried off to -a place of safety until the rock was blown to atoms. Then we returned to -our labour at the jumper and hammer. - -Dinner-time came around; the men shared their grub with my mate and me, -Hell-fire Gahey giving me a considerable share of his food. Red Billy, -who took his grub along with us, cut his bread into thin slices with a -dirty tobacco-stained knife, and remarked that he always liked tobacco -juice for kitchen. Red Billy chewed the cud after eating, a most -curious, but, as I have learned since, not an unprecedented thing. He -was very proud of this peculiarity, and said that the gift--he called it -a gift--was the outcome of a desire when young and hungry to chew over -again the food which he had already eaten. - -No one spoke of my proposed fight with Gahey, and I wondered at this -silence. I asked Moleskin if Hell-fire was afraid of me. - -"Not at all," said Joe. "But he won't put his dinner-hour to loss by -thrashin' a light rung of a cully like you. That's the kind of him." - -I laughed as if enjoying Joe's remark, but in my mind I resolved to go -for Gahey as soon as I got the chance, and hammer him, if able, until he -shrieked for mercy. It was most annoying to know that a man would not -put his time to loss in fighting me. - -We finished work at six o'clock in the evening, and Moleskin and I -obtained two shillings of sub.[11] apiece. Then we set off for the -store, a large rambling building in which all kinds of provisions were -stored, and bought food. Having procured one loaf, one pound of steak, -one can of condensed milk and a pennyworth of tea and sugar, we went to -our future quarters in Red Billy's shack. - -Our ganger built a large shack at Kinlochleven when work was started -there, and furnished it with a hot-plate, beds, bedding, and a door. He -forgot all about windows, or at least considered them unnecessary for -the dwelling-place of navvy men. Once a learned man objected to the lack -of fresh air in Billy's shack. "If you go outside the door you'll get -plenty of air, and if you stay out it will be fresher here," was Billy's -answer. To do Billy justice, it is necessary to say that he slept in the -shack himself. Three shillings a week secured the part use of a bedplace -for each man, and the hot-plate was used in common by the inmates of the -shack. At the end of the week the three shillings were deducted from the -men's pay. Moleskin and I had no difficulty in securing a bed, which we -had to share with Gahey, my rival. Usually three men lay in each bunk, -and sometimes it happened that four unwashed dirty humans were huddled -together under the one evil-smelling, flea-covered blanket. - -Red Billy's shack was built of tarred wooden piles, shoved endwise into -the earth, and held together by iron cross-bars and wooden couplings. -Standing some distance apart from the others, it was neither better nor -worse than any of the rest. I mean that it could be no worse; and there -was not a better shack in all the place. As it happened to stand on a -mountain spring a few planks were thrown across the floor to prevent the -water from rising over the shoe-mouths of the inmates. In warm weather -the water did not come over the flooring; in the rainy season the -flooring was always under the water. A man once said that the Highlands -were the rain-trough of the whole world. - -The beds were arranged one over another in three rows which ran round -the entire hut, which was twelve feet high and about thirty feet square. -The sanitary authorities took good care to see that every cow in the -byre at Braxey farm had so many cubic feet of breathing space, but there -was no one to bother about the navvies' byres in Kinlochleven; it was -not worth anybody's while to bother about our manner of living. - -Moleskin and I had no frying-pan, but Gahey offered us the use of his, -until such time as we raised the price of one. We accepted the offer and -forthwith proceeded to cook a good square supper. It had barely taken us -five minutes to secure our provisions, but by the time we started -operations on the hot-plate the gamblers were busy at work, playing -banker on a discarded box in the centre of the building. Gahey, who was -one of the players, seemed to have forgotten all about the projected -fight between himself and me. - -"Is Gahey not going to fight?" I asked Moleskin in a whisper. - -"My God! don't you see that he's playin' banker?" said Joe, and I had to -be content with that answer, which was also an explanation of the man's -lack of remembrance. Fighting must be awfully common and boring to the -man when he forgets one so easily, I thought. To me a fight was -something which I looked forward to for days, and which I thought of for -weeks afterwards. Now I felt a trifle afraid of Gahey. I was of little -account in his eyes, and I concluded, for I jump quickly to conclusions, -that I would not make much of a show if I stood up against such a man, a -man who looked upon a fight as something hardly worthy of notice. I -decided to let the matter drop and trouble about it no further. I think -that if Gahey had asked me to fight at that moment I should have -refused. The truth was that I became frightened of the man. - -"Can I have a hand while I'm cookin' my grub?" Joe asked the dealer, a -man of many oaths whose name was Maloney, a personage already enshrined -in the song written by Mullholland on the _Shootin' of the Crow_. - -"The more the merrier!" was the answer, given in a tone of hearty -assent. On hearing these words Moleskin left the pan under my care, put -down a coin on the table, and with one eye on the steak, and another on -the game, he waited for the turn-up of the banker's card. During the -whole meal my mate devoted the intervals between bites to the placing of -money on the card table. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, and when -the game concluded with a free fight my mate had lost every penny of his -sub., and thirteen pence which he had borrowed from me. It was hard to -determine how the quarrel started, but at the commencement nearly every -one of the players was involved in the fight, which gradually resolved -itself into an affair between two of the gamblers, Blasting Mick and -Ben the Moocher. - -Red Billy Davis came in at that moment, and between two planks, -wallowing in the filth, he found the combatants tearing at one another -for all they were worth. - -"Go out and fight, and be damned to yous!" roared Red Billy, catching -the two men as they scrambled to their feet. "You want to break -ev'rything in the place, you do! Curses be on you! go out into the world -and fight!" he cried, taking them by their necks and shoving them -through the door. - -Nothing daunted, however, both continued the quarrel outside in the -darkness. No one evinced any desire to go out and see the result of the -fight, but I was on the tip-toe of suspense waiting for the finish of -the encounter. I could hear the combatants panting and slipping outside, -but thinking that the inmates of the shack would consider me a greenhorn -if I went to look at the fight I remained inside. I resolved to follow -Moleskin's guidance for at least a little while longer; I lacked the -confidence to work on my own initiative. - -"Clean broke!" said Moleskin, alluding to his own predicament, as he sat -down by the fire, and asked the man next to him for a chew of tobacco. -"Money is made round to go round, anyway," he went on; "and there is -some as say that it is made flat to build upon, but that's damned rot. -Doesn't ev'ryone here agree with that?" - -"Ev'ryone," was the hearty response. - -"Why the devil do all of you agree?" Joe looked savagely exasperated. -"Has no man here an opinion of his own? You, Tom Slavin, used to save -your pay when you did graft at Toward Waterworks, and what did _you_ do -with your money?" - -Tom Slavin was a youngish fellow, and Joe's enquiry caused him to look -redder than the hot-plate. - -"He bought penny ribbons and brass bracelets for Ganger Farley's -daughter," put in Red Billy, who had quickly regained his good humour; -"but in the end the jade went and married a carpenter from Glasgow." - -Red Billy chuckled in his beard. He was twice a widower, grass and clay, -and he was a very cynical old man. I did not take much heed to the -conversation; I was listening to the scuffle outside. - -"What did I always say about women!" said Moleskin, launching into the -subject of the fair sex. "Once get into the hands of a woman and she'll -drive you to hell and leave you with the devil when she gets you there. -How many fools can a woman put through her hands? Eh! How much water can -run through a sieve? No matter how many lovers a woman has, she has -always room for one more. It's a well-filled barn that doesn't give room -for the threshin' of one extra sheaf. Comin' back to that sliver of a -Slavin's wenchin', who is the worst off now, the carpenter or Tom? I'll -go bail that one is jealous of the other; that one's damned because he -did and the other's damned because he didn't." - -"There's a sort of woman, Gourock Ellen they call her," interrupted Red -Billy with a chuckle, "and she nearly led you to hell in Glasgow three -years ago, Mister Moleskin." - -"And what about the old heifer you made love to in Clydebank, Moleskin?" -asked James Clancy, a man with a broken nose and great fame as a singer, -who had not spoken before. - -"Oh! that Glasgow woman," said Moleskin, taking no heed of the second -question. "I didn't think very much of her." - -"What was wrong with her?" asked Billy. - -"She was a woman; isn't that enough?" - -"It was a different story on the night when you and Ginger Simpson -fought about her in the Saltmarket," cut in some individual who was -sitting in the bed sewing patches on his trousers. - -"I've fought my man and knocked him out many a time, when there wasn't a -wench within ten miles of me," cried Moleskin. "Doesn't ev'ryone here -believe that?" - -"But that woman in Clydebank!" persisted Clancy. - -"Have you seen Ginger Simpson of late?" said Moleskin, making an effort -to change the subject, for he observed that he was cornered. It was -evident that some of the inmates of the shack had learned facts relating -to his career, which Moleskin would have preferred to remain unknown. - -"Last winter I met him in Greenock," said Sandy MacDonald, a man with a -wasting disease, who lay in a corner bunk at the end of the shack. "He -told me all about the fight in the Saltmarket, and that Gourock -Ellen----" - -"But the Clydebank woman----" - -"Listen!" said Joe, interrupting Clancy's remark. "They're at it outside -yet. It must be a hell of a fight between the two of them." - -He referred to Blasting Mick and Ben the Moocher, who were still busily -engaged in thrashing one another outside, and in the silence that -followed Joe's remark I could hear distinctly the thud of many blows -given and taken by the two combatants in the darkness. - -"Let them fight; that's nothin' to us," said Red Billy, taking a bite -from the end of his plug. "But for my own part I would like to know -where Gourock Ellen is now." - -Joe made no answer; he was visibly annoyed, and I saw his fists closing -tightly. - -"Do you mind the Clydebank woman, Moleskin?" asked Clancy, making a -final effort in his enquiries. "She was fond of her pint, and had a -horrid squint." - -"I'll squint you, by God!" roared Moleskin, reaching out and gripping -Clancy by the scruff of the neck. "If I hear you talkin' about Clydebank -again, I'll thicken your ear for you, seein' that I cannot break your -nose! And you, you red-bearded sprat, you!" this to Red Billy Davis; "if -you mention Gourock Ellen again, I'll leave your eyes in such a state -that you'll not be fit to see one of your own gang for six months to -come." - -Just at that moment the two fighters came in, and attracted the whole -attention of the party inside by their appearance. They looked worn and -dishevelled, their clothes were torn to ribbons, their cheeks were -covered with clay and blood, and their hair and beards looked like mops -which had been used in sweeping the bottom of a midden. One good result -of the two men's timely entrance was that the rest of the party forgot -their own particular grievances. - -"Quite pleased with yoursels now?" asked Red Billy Davis, but the -combatants did not answer. They sat down, took off their boots, scraped -the clay from their wounds, and turned into bed. - -"Moleskin, do you know Gourock Ellen?" I asked my mate when later I -found him sitting alone in a quiet corner. - -Moleskin glared at me furiously. "By this and by that, Flynn! if you -talk to me about Gourock Ellen again I'll scalp you," he answered. - -For a moment I felt a trifle angry, but having sense enough to see that -Moleskin was sore cut with the outcome of the argument, and knowing that -he was the only friend whom I had in all Kinlochleven I kept silent, -stifling the words of anger that had risen to my tongue. By humouring -one another's moods we have become inseparable friends. - -One by one the men turned into bed. Maloney having collared all the -day's sub. there was no more gambling that night. Joe sat for a while -bare naked, getting a belly heat at the fire, as he himself expressed -it, before he turned into bed. - -"Where have you left your duds, Flynn?" he asked, as he rose to his feet -and extinguished the naphtha lamp which hung from the roof by a piece of -wire. I was already under the blankets, glad of their warmth, meagre -though it was, after so many long chilly nights on the road. - -"They are under my pillow," I answered. - -"And your bluchers?" - -"On the floor." - -"Put them under your pillow too, or maybe you'll be without them in the -mornin'." - -Acting upon Joe's advice, I jumped out of bed, groped in the darkness, -found my boots and placed them under my pillow. Presently, wedged in -between the naked bodies of Moleskin Joe and Hell-fire Gahey, I -endeavoured to test the strength of the latter's arms by pressing them -with my fingers. The man was asleep, if snoring was to be taken as a -sign, and presently I was running my hand over his body, testing the -muscles of his arms, shoulders, and chest. He was covered with hair, -more like a brute than a human; long, curling, matted hair, that was -rough as fine wire when the hand came in contact with it. The -rubber-like pliability of the man's long arms impressed me, and assured -me that he would be a quick hitter when he started fighting. Added to -that he had a great fame as a fighting man in Kinlochleven. He was a -loud snorer too; I have never met a man who could snore like Gahey, and -snoring is one of the vices which I detest. Being very tired after the -long homeless tramp from Greenock, I fell asleep by-and-bye; but I did -not sleep for long. The angry voice of Joe awakened me, and I heard him -expostulate with Hell-fire on the unequal distribution of the blankets. - -"You hell-forsaken Irish blanket-grabber, you!" Joe was roaring; -"you've got all the clothes in the bed wrapped round your dirty hide." - -"Ye're a hell-fire liar, and that's what ye are!" snorted Gahey. "It's -yerself that has got all the beddin'." - -Joe replied with an oath and a vigorous tug at the blankets. In turn my -other bedmate pulled them back, and for nearly five minutes both men -engaged in a mad tug-of-war. Hell-fire got the best of it in the end, -for he placed his back against the wall of the shack, planted his feet -in my side, and pulled as hard as he was able until he regained complete -possession of the disputed clothing. Just then Moleskin's hand passed -over my head with a mighty swish in the direction of Gahey. I turned -rapidly round and lay face downwards on the pillow in order to avoid the -blows of the two men as they fought across my naked body. And they did -fight! The dull thud of fist on flesh, the grunts and pants of the men, -the creaking of the joints as their arms were thrown outwards, the jerky -spring of the wooden bunk-stanchions as they shook beneath the straining -bodies, and the numberless blows which landed on me in the darkness -makes the memory of the first night in Kinlochleven for ever green in my -mind. - -Rising suddenly to his feet Gahey stood over me in a crouching position -with both his heels planted in the small of my back. The pain was almost -unendurable, and I got angry. It was almost impossible to move, but by a -supreme effort I managed to wriggle round and throw Gahey head-foremost -into Moleskin's arms, whereupon the two fighters slithered out of bed, -leaving the blankets to me, and continued their struggle on the floor. - -Somewhere in the middle of the shack I could hear Red Billy swearing as -he endeavoured to light a match on the upper surface of the hot-plate. - -"My blessed blankets!" he was lamenting. "You damned scoundrels! you'll -not leave one in the hut. Fighting in bed just the same as if you were -lyin' in a pig-sty. What the devil was I thinkin' of when I took on that -pig of a Moleskin Joe?" - -Billy ceased thinking just then, for a wild swing of Moleskin's heavy -fist missed Gahey and caught the ganger under the ear. The whiskered one -dropped with a groan amid the floor-planks and lay, kicking, shouting -meanwhile that Moleskin had murdered him. Someone lit a match, and my -bedmates ceased fighting and seemed little the worse for their -adventure. Billy's face looked ghastly, and a red streak ran from his -nose into the puddle in which he lay. He had now stopped speaking and -was fearfully quiet. I jumped out of bed, shaking in every limb, for I -thought that the old ganger was killed. - -"A tin of water thrown in his face will bring him round," I said, but -feared at the same time that it would not. - -"Or a bucketful," someone suggested. - -"Stab a pin under the quick of his nail." - -"Burn a feather under his nose." - -"Give him a dig in the back." - -"Or a prod in the ribs." - -The match had gone out, no one could find another, and the voices of -advice came from the darkness in all the corners of the room. Even old -Sandy MacDonald, who could find no cure for his own complaint, the -wasting disease, was offering endless advice on the means of curing Red -Billy Davis. - -A match was again found; the lamp was lit, and after much rough -doctoring on the part of his gang, the ganger recovered and swore -himself to sleep. Joe and Gahey came back together and stood by the bed. - -"It's myself that has the hard knuckles, Moleskin," said Gahey. "And -they're never loth to come in contact with flesh that's not belongin' to -the man who owns them." - -"There's a plot of ground here, and it's called the 'Ring,'" said -Moleskin. "About seven o'clock the morrow evenin', I'll be out that way -for a stroll. Many a man has broke a hard knuckle against my jaw, and if -you just meet me in the Ring----" - -"I'll take a bit of a dander round there, Joe," said Hell-fire, and -filled with ineffable content both men slipped into their bed, and fell -asleep. As for myself, the dawn was coming through a chink in the shack -when my eyes closed in slumber. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[11] Wages paid on the day on which it is earned. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -A GREAT FIGHT - - "When rugged rungs stand up to fight, stark naked to the buff, Each - taken blow but gives them zest, they cannot have enough, For they - are out to see red blood, to curse and club and clout, And few men - know and no one cares what brings the fuss about." - - --From _Hard Knuckles_. - - -About fifty yards distant from Red Billy's hut a circle of shacks -enclosed a level piece of ground, and this was used as a dumping place -for empty sardine cans, waste tins, scrap iron, and broken bottles. This -was also the favourite spot where all manner of quarrels were settled -with the fists. It had been christened the Ring, and in those days many -a heavy jowl was broken there and many a man was carried out of the -enclosure seeing all kinds of dancing lights in front of his eyes. It -was to this spot that Moleskin and Gahey came to settle their dispute on -the evening of the second day, and I came with them, Joe having -appointed me as his second, whose main duty would consist in looking on -and giving a word of approval to my principal now and again. When we -arrived two fights were already in progress, and my mates had to wait -until one of these was brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Some men -who had come out through sympathy with the combatants were seated on the -ground in one corner, and had transferred their interest from the -quarrels to a game of banker or brag. Moleskin and Gahey evinced not the -slightest interest in the two fights that were taking place; but -grumbled a little because they had to wait their turn so long. For -myself, I could hardly understand my mate's indifference to other -people's quarrels. At that time, as a true Irishman, I could have spent -all day long looking at fights. These men looked upon a fight as they -looked upon a shift. "Hurry up and get it done, and when it is done -trouble no more about it." Another man's shift or another man's fight -was not their business. - -I could not take my eyes away from the struggles which were going on -already. A big Irishman, slow of foot, strong and heavy-going, was -engaged in an encounter with a little Pole, who handled his fists -scientifically, and who had battered his opponent's face to an ugly -purple by the time we arrived. However, in the end the Irishman won. He -lifted his opponent bodily, and threw him, naked shoulders and all, into -the middle of a heap of broken bottles and scraggy tins. The Pole would -fight no more. His mates pulled the edged scraps of tin out of his -flesh, while his victor challenged all Poles (there were a fair -sprinkling of them at Kinlochleven) who were yet on the safe side of -hell to deadly battle. - -The second fight was more vindictive. A Glasgow craneman had fallen foul -of an English muck-filler, and the struggle had already lasted for the -best part of an hour. Both men were stripped to the buff, and red -splotches of blood and dirt covered their steaming bodies. The craneman -thought that he had finished matters conclusively when he gave his -opponent the knee in the stomach, and knocked him stiff to the ground. -Just as he was on the point of leaving the ring the Englishman suddenly -recovered, rose to his knees and, grabbing his adversary by the legs, -inserted his teeth in the thick of the victor's right calf. Nothing -daunted, however, the craneman bent down and tightened his thumbs under -his enemy's ear, and pressed strongly until the latter let go his hold. - -"Our turn now," said Moleskin affably, as he stripped to the waist and -fastened his gallowses around his waist. "It'll give me much pleasure to -blacken your eyes, Gahey." - -Joe was a fine figure when stripped. His flesh was pure white below the -brown of his neck, and the long muscles of his arms stood out in clearly -defined ridges. When he stretched his arms his well-developed biceps -rose and fell in graceful unison with every movement of his -perfectly-shaped chest. When on the roads, dressed in every curious -garment which he could beg, borrow, or thieve, Joe looked singularly -unprepossessing; but here, naturally garbed, and standing amidst the -nakedness of nature, he looked like some magnificent piece of sculpture, -gifted with life and fresh from the hands of the genius who fashioned -it. - -Gahey was of different build altogether. The profusion of hair that -covered his body resolved itself into a mane almost in the hollow of the -breast bone. His flesh was shrivelled and dried; his limbs looked like -raw pig-iron, which had in some strange manner been transformed into the -semblance of a human being. - -"Hell-fire and Moleskin Joe," I heard the gamblers say as they threw -down their cards and scraped the money from the ground. "This will be a -good set-to. Moleskin can handle his mits, and by this and that, -Hell-fire is no slow one!" - -Joe stepped into the ring, hitched up his trousers and waited. Gahey -followed, stood for a moment, then swung out for his enemy's head, only -to find his blow intercepted by an upward sweep of the arm of Moleskin, -who followed up his movement of defence by a right feint for the body of -Gahey, and a straight left that went home from the shoulder. Gahey -replied with a heavy smash to the ribs, and Joe looked at him with a -smile. - -"See and don't hurt your knuckles on my ribs, Gahey," he said. - -"I was only feelin' if yer heart was beatin' just a trifle faster than -the usual," replied Gahey. - -Both men smiled, but the smile was a mask, behind which, clear-headed -and cool-eyed, each of them looked for an opening and an opportunity to -drive home a blow. To each belonged the wisdom bred of many weary, -aching fights and desperate gruellings. Gahey was by far the quicker -man; his long brown arms shot out like whiplashes, and his footwork was -very clever. He was a man, untrained in the art, but a natural fighter. -His missing thumb seemed to place him at no disadvantage. Joe was slower -but by far the stronger man. He never lost his head, and his blows had -the impact of a knotted club. When he landed on the flesh of the body, -every knuckle left its own particular mark; when he landed on the face, -there was a general disfigurement. - -Gahey broke through the mask of his smile, and struck out with his -right. In his eyes the purpose betrayed itself, and his opponent, -forewarned, caught the blow on his arm. Hell-fire darted in with the -left and took Joe on the stomach. The impact was sharp and sudden; my -mate winced a trifle slightly, but the next moment he forced a smile -into his face. - -"You're savin' your knuckles, matey," he said to Gahey. "There's no -danger of you breakin' them on the soft of my belly." - -"Well, I'll test them here," Gahey retorted, and came in with a -resounding smack to Moleskin's jaw. Joe received the blow stolidly, and -swung a right for Gahey, but, missing his man, he fell to the ground. - -"See! see!" everyone around the ring shouted. "Who'd have thought that a -light rung of a fellow like Gahey would have beat Moleskin Joe?" - -"Wait till he's beaten!" I shouted back angrily. "I'll have something to -say to some of you idiots." - -"Good, Flynn!" said Moleskin, rising to his feet. "Just put in a word -on my behalf with them lubberly coopers. I'll see to them myself in a -minute or two, when I get this wee job off my hands." - -So saying, my mate made for Gahey, who was afraid to come into contact -with Joe when he was on the ground. The men fought to win, and the fight -had no rules. All was fair, clinching, clutching, scraping, kicking, -sarcasm, and repartee. Joe followed Gahey up, coming nearer every moment -and eager to get into grips. When that would happen, Gahey was lost; but -being wary, he avoided Moleskin's clutches, and kept hopping around, -aiming in at intervals one of his lightning blows, and raising a red -mark on Moleskin's white body whenever he struck. Joe kept walking after -his man; nothing deterred him, he would keep at it until he achieved his -purpose. The other man's hope lay in knocking Moleskin unconscious; but -even that would ensure victory only for the moment. Joe once fought a -man twenty-six times, and got knocked out every time. In the -twenty-seventh fight, Joe knocked out his opponent. Joe did not know -when he was beaten, and thus he was never defeated. - -Now he kept walking stolidly round and round the ring after Gahey. -Sometimes he struck out; nearly always he missed, and seldom was he -quick enough to avoid the lightning blows of his enemy. Even yet he was -smiling, although the smile had long gone from the face of Gahey, who -was still angry and wanting to inflict punishment. He inflicted -punishment, but it seemed to have no effect; apparently unperturbed, Joe -took it all without wincing. - -The crowd watched Gahey wistfully; now they knew instinctively that he -was going to get beaten. Joe was implacable, resistless. He was walking -towards an appointed goal steadily and surely; his pace was merciless, -and it was slow, but in the end it would tell. For myself, I doubted if -Joe could be successful. He was streaming with blood, one eyebrow was -hanging, and the flesh of the breast was red and raw. Gahey was almost -without a scratch; if he finished the fight at that moment, he would -leave the ring nearly as fresh as when he came into it. Joe still -smiled, but the smile looked ghastly, when seen through the blood. Now -and again he passed a joke. - -The look of fear came into Gahey's eyes suddenly. It came to him when he -realised that he would be beaten if he did not knock Joe out very soon. -Then he endeavoured at every opportunity to strike fully and heavily, -trying to land on the point, but this Joe kept jealously guarded. Gahey -began to lose confidence in himself; once or twice he blundered and -almost fell into Joe's arms, but saved himself by an effort. - -"I'll get you yet, my Irish blanket-grabber!" Joe said each time. - -"Get him now and put an end to the fight," I cried to Moleskin. "It's -not worth your while to spend so much time over a little job." - -Joe took my advice and rushed. Gahey struck out, but Joe imprisoned the -striking arm, and drawing it towards him, he gripped hold of Gahey's -body. Then, without any perceptible effort, he lifted Gahey over his -head and held him there at arm's length for a few minutes. Afterwards he -took him down as far as his chest. - -"For God's sake don't throw me into the tins, Moleskin," cried Gahey. - -"I don't want to dirty the tins," answered Joe. "Now I want to ask you a -question. Who was right about the blankets last night?" - -Gahey gave no answer. Joe threw him on the ground, went on top of him, -and began knuckling his knees along Gahey's ribs. - -"Who was right about the blankets last night?" asked Moleskin again. - -"You were," said Gahey sulkily. Joe smiled and rose to his feet. - -"That's a wee job finished," he said to me. "You could knock Gahey out, -yourself, Flynn." - -"Could ye, bedamned!" roared Gahey, dancing around me and making strange -passes with his fist. - -"Go on, Flynn, give it to him same as you did with Carroty in Greenock!" -shouted Joe as he struggled with the shirt which he was pulling over his -head. Gahey's lip was swollen, his left ear had been thickened, but -otherwise he had not received a scratch in the fight with Moleskin, and -he was now undoubtedly eager to try conclusions with me. As I have said, -I was never averse to a stand-up fight, and though the exhibition which -Hell-fire made against Joe filled me with profound respect for the man, -I looked at him squarely between the eyes for a moment, and then with a -few seasonable oaths I stripped to the waist, my blood rushing through -my veins at the thought of the coming battle. - -I am not much to look at physically, but am strong-boned, though lacking -muscle and flesh. I can stand any amount of rough treatment; and in -after days men, who knew something about the art of boxing, averred that -I was gifted with a good punch. Though very strong, my bearing is -deceptive; new mates are always disinclined to believe that my strength -is out of keeping with my appearance, until by practical demonstration -they are taught otherwise. While slender of arm my chest measurement is -very good, being over forty-three inches, and height five feet eleven. -In movement inclined to be slow, yet when engaged in a fight I have an -uncommonly quick eye for detail, and can preserve a good sound striking -judgment even when getting the worst of the encounter, and never yet -have I given in to my man until he knocked me unconscious to the -ground. - -Gahey stood in the centre of the enclosure, and waited for me with an -air of serene composure, and carried the self-confident look of a man -who is going to win. - -Despite the ease with which Moleskin had settled Gahey a few minutes -previously, I felt a bit nervous when I took my way into the open and -glanced at the circle of dirty, animated faces that glared at me from -all comers of the ring. Gahey did not seem a bit afraid, and he laughed -in my face when I raised my hands gingerly in assuming an attitude of -defence. I did not feel angry with the man. I was going to fight in a -cold-blooded manner without reason or excuse. In every previous fight I -had something to annoy me before starting; I saw red before a blow was -given or taken. But now I had no grievance against the man and he had -none against me. We wanted to fight one another--that was all. - -Gahey, though apparently confident of victory, was taking no chances. He -swung his right for my head in the first onslaught, and I went slap to -the ground like a falling log. - -"Oh, Flynn!" cried Joe in an agonised voice; and I thought that his -words were whispered in my ear where I lay. Up to my feet I jumped, and -with head lowered down and wedged between my shoulder joints, I lunged -forward at Gahey, only to recoil from an upward sweep of his fist, which -sent all sorts of dancing lights into my eyes. My mouth filled with -blood and a red madness of anger came over me. I was conscious no more -of pain, or of the reason for the fight. All that I now wanted was to -overcome the man who stood in front of me. I heard my opponent laugh, -but I could not see him; he struck out at me again and I stumbled once -more to the ground. - -"Flynn! Dermod Flynn!" shouted Joe, and there was a world of reproach -in his voice. - -Again I stood up, and the blindness had gone from my eyes. My abdomen -heaved frankly, and I gulped down mighty mouthfuls of air. Gahey stood -before me laughing easily. My whole mind was centred on the next move of -the contest; but in some subconscious way I took in every detail of the -surroundings. The gamblers stood about in clusters, and one of them -carried the pack of cards in his hand, the front of it facing me, and I -could see the seven of clubs on top of the pack. Joe was looking tensely -at me, his lips wide apart and his tobacco-stained teeth showing -between. Behind him, and a little distance off, the rest of the crowd, -shouldered together, stood watching; and behind and above the circle of -dirty faces the ring of cabins spread outwards under the shadow of the -hair-poised derricks and firmly-set hills. - -A vicious jab from Gahey slipped along the arm with which I parried it. -I hit with my left, and the soft of my enemy's throat jellied inwards -under the stroke. I followed up with two blows to the chest and one to -the face. A stream of blood squirted from Gahey's jowl as my fist took -it; and this filled me with new hopes of victory. Joe had drawn very -little blood from the man, but then, though faster than my mate on my -feet, I was not gifted with his staying power. - -Behind me Moleskin clapped his hands excitedly, and urged me afresh with -hearty words of cheer. - -"Burst him up!" he yelled. - -"Sure," I answered. My anger had subsided, and a feeling of confidence -had taken its place. - -"Will ye, be God!" cried Gahey, and he rushed at me like a mad wind, -landing his brown hard fists repeatedly on my face and chest, and -receiving no chastisement in return. - -"I'll burst yer ear!" he cried, and did so, smashing the lobe with one -of his lightning blows. The blood from the wound fell on my shoulders -for the rest of the fight. Another blow, a light one on the stomach, -sickened me slightly, and my confidence began to ooze away from me. It -went completely when I endeavoured to trip my opponent, and got tripped -myself instead. My head took the ground, and I felt a little groggy when -I regained my feet; but in rising I got in a sharp jab to Gahey's nose -and drew blood again. - -The battle sobered down a little. Both of us circled around, looking for -an opening. Suddenly I drove forward with my right, passed Gahey's -guard, and with a well-directed blow on the chest, I lifted him neatly -off his feet, and left him sitting on the ground. Rising, he rushed at -me furiously, caught me by the legs, raised, and tried to throw me over -his shoulders. - -Then the fight turned in my favour. I had once on my wanderings met a -man who had been a wrestler, and he taught me certain tricks of his art. -I had a good opening before me now for one of them. Gahey had hold of me -by the knees, and both his arms were twined tightly around my joints. I -stooped over him, gripped him around the waist, and threw myself -backwards flat to the ground. As I reached the earth I let Gahey go, and -flying clean across my head, he slid along the rough ground on his naked -back. When he regained his feet I was up and ready for him, and I -knocked him down again with a good blow delivered on the fleshy part, -where the lower ribs fork inward to the breast-bone. That settled him -for good. The crowd cheered enthusiastically and went back to their -cards. One or two stopped with Gahey, and it took him half an hour to -recover. When he was well again Moleskin and I escorted him back to the -shack. - -We washed our wounds together and talked of everything but the fights -which had just taken place. The result of the quarrels seemed to have -had no effect on the men, but my heart was jumping out of my mouth with -pleasure. I had beaten one of the great fighters of Kinlochleven; I, a -boy of nineteen, who had never shaved yet, had knocked Gahey to the -ground with a good hard punch, and Gahey was a man twice my age and one -who was victor in a thousand battles. Excitement seized hold of me, my -step became alert, and I walked into the shack with the devil-may-care -swagger of a fighting man. The gamblers were sitting at the table and -the bright glitter of silver caught my eye. Big Jim Maloney was banker. - -"Come here, ye fightin' men," he cried; "and take a hand at another -game." - -The excitement was on me. In my pocket I had three shillings sub., and I -put it down on the board, the whole amount, as befitted a fighting man. -I won once, twice, three times. I called for drinks for the school. I -put Maloney out of the bank, I backed any money, and all the time I won. -The word passed round that Flynn was playing a big game; he would back -any money. More and more men came in from the other shacks and remained. -I could hear the clink of bottles all round me. The men were drinking, -smoking, and swearing, and those who could not get near the table betted -on the result of the game. - -My luck continued. The pile of silver beside me grew and grew, and stray -pieces of gold found their way into the pile as well. Every turn-up was -an ace or court-card. My luck was unheard of; and all around me -Kinlochleven stood agape, and played blindly, as if fascinated. Gain was -nothing to me, the game meant all. I called for further drinks; I drank -myself, although I was already drunk with excitement. I had forgotten -all about the good resolutions made on the doorstep of Kinlochleven but -what did it matter? Let my environment mould me, let Nature follow out -its own course, she knows what is best. I was now living large; the game -held me captive, and the pile of glistening silver grew in size. - -A man beside made some objection to my turn-up. He was one of the -fiercest men in the shack, and he was known as a fighter of merit. I -looked him between the eyes for a minute and he flinched before my gaze. - -"I'll thrash you till you roar for mercy!" I called at him and he became -silent. - -The drink went to my head and the cards turned up began to play strange -antics before my eyes. The knaves and queens ran together, they waltzed -over the place, and the lesser cards would persist in eluding my hand -when it went out to grip them. I was terribly drunk, the whisky and the -excitement were overpowering me. - -"I'm going to stop, mateys," I said, and I caught a handful of gold and -silver and put it into my pocket, then staggered to my feet. A cry of -indignation and contempt arose. "I was not going to allow any of them to -overtake their luck; I was not a man; I was a mere rogue." I was well -aware of the fact that a winner is always honour bound to be the last to -leave the table. - -"I'm going to play no more," I said bluntly. - -The crowd burst into a torrent of abuse. My legs were faltering under -me, and I wanted to get into bed. I would go to bed, but how? The -players might not allow it; they wanted their money. Then I would give -it to them. I put my hand in my pocket, pulled out the cash, and flung -it amongst the crowd of players. There was a hurried scramble all round -me, and the men groped in the muck and dirt for the stray coins. I got -into bed with my clothes on and fell asleep. In a vague sort of way I -heard the gamblers talk about my wonderful luck, and some of them -quarrelled about the money lifted from the floor. When morning came I -was still lying, fully-dressed, over the blankets on the centre of the -bed, while Joe and Gahey were under the blankets on each side of me. - -I still had two half-sovereigns in my pocket along with a certain amount -of smaller cash, and these coins reminded me of my game. But I did not -treasure them so much as the long scar stretching across my cheek, and -the disfigured eye, which were tokens of the fight in which I thrashed -Hell-fire Gahey. All that day I lived the fight over and over again, and -the victory caused me to place great confidence in myself. From that day -forward I affected a certain indifference towards other fights, thus -pretending that I considered myself to be above such petty scrapes. - -By instinct I am a fighter. I never shirk a fight, and the most violent -contest is a tonic to my soul. Sometimes when in a thoughtful mood I -said to myself that fighting was the pastime of a brute or a savage. I -said that because it is fashionable for the majority of people, -spineless and timid as they are, to say the same. But fighting is not -the pastime of a brute; it is the stern reality of a brute's life. Only -by fighting will the fittest survive. But to man, a physical contest is -a pastime and a joy. I love to see a fight with the bare fists, the -combatants stripped naked to the buff, the long arms stretching out, the -hard knuckles showing white under the brown skin of the fists, the -muscles sliding and slipping like live eels under the flesh, the steady -and quick glance of the eye, the soft thud of fist on flesh, the sharp -snap of a blow on the jaw, and the final scene where one man drops to -the ground while the other, bathed in blood and sweat, smiles in -acknowledgment of the congratulations on the victory obtained. - -Gambling was another manner of fighting, and brim full of excitement. In -it no man knew his strength until he paid for it, and there was -excitement in waiting for the turn-up. Night after night I sat down to -the cards, sometimes out in the open and sometimes by the deal plank on -the floor of Red Billy's shack. Gambling was rife and unchecked. All -night long the navvies played banker and brag; and those who worked on -the night-shift took up the game that the day labourers left off. One -Sunday evening alone I saw two hundred and fifty banker schools gathered -in a sheltered hollow of the hills. That Sunday I remembered very well, -for I happened to win seven pounds at a single sitting, which lasted -from seven o'clock on a Saturday evening until half-past six on the -Monday morning. I finished the game, went out to my work, and did ten -hours' shift, although I was half asleep on the drill handle for the -best part of the time. - -One day a man, a new arrival, came to me and proposed a certain plan -whereby he and I could make a fortune at the gambling school. It was a -kind of swindle, and I do not believe in robbing workers, being neither -a thief nor a capitalist. I lifted the man up in my arms and took him -into the shack, where I disclosed his little plan to the inmates. A -shack some distance off was owned by a Belfast man named Ramsay, and -several Orangemen dwelt in this shack. Moleskin proposed that we should -strip the swindler to the pelt, paint him green, and send him to -Ramsay's shack. Despite the man's entreaties, we painted him a glorious -green, and when the night came on we took him under cover of the -darkness to Ramsay's shack, and tied him to the door. In the morning we -found him, painted orange, outside of ours, and almost dead with cold. -We gave him his clothes and a few kicks, and chased him from the place. - -I intended, when I came to Kinlochleven, to earn money and send it home -to my own people, and the intention was nursed in good earnest until I -lifted my first day's pay. Then Moleskin requested the loan of my spare -cash, and I could not refuse him, a pal who shared his very last crumb -of bread with me time and again. On the second evening the gamble -followed the fight as a matter of course; and on the third evening and -every evening after I played--because I was a gambler by nature. My luck -was not the best; I lost most of my wages at the card-table, and the -rest went on drink. I know not whether drink and gambling are evils. I -only know that they cheered many hours of my life, and caused me to -forget the miseries of being. If drunkenness was a vice, I humoured it -as a man might humour sickness or any other evil. But drink might have -killed me, one will say. And sickness might have killed me, I answer. -When a man is dead he knows neither hunger nor cold; he suffers neither -from the cold of the night nor the craving of the belly. The philosophy -is crude, but comforting, and it was mine. To gamble and drink was part -of my nature, and for nature I offer no excuses. She knows what is best. - -I could not save money, I hated to carry it about; it burned a hole in -my pocket and slipped out. I was no slave to it; I detested it. How -different now were my thoughts from those which buoyed up my spirit on -first entering Kinlochleven! those illusions, like previous others, had -been dispelled before the hard wind of reality. I looked on life -nakedly, and henceforth I determined to shape my own future in such a -way that neither I, nor wife, nor child, should repent of it. Although -passion ran riot in my blood, as it does in the blood of youth, I -resolved never to marry and bring children into the world to beg and -starve and steal as I myself had done. I saw life as it was, saw it -clearly, standing out stark from its covering of illusions. I looked on -love cynically, unblinded by the fumes off the midden-heap of lust, and -my life lacked the phantom happiness of men who see things as they are -not. - -The great proportion of the navvies live very pure lives, and women play -little or no part in their existence. The women of the street seldom -come near a model, even when the navvies come in from some completed job -with money enough and to spare. The purity of their lives is remarkable -when it is considered that they seldom marry. "We cannot bring children -into the world to suffer like ourselves," most of them say. That is one -reason why they remain single. Therefore the navvy is seldom the son of -a navvy; it is the impoverished and the passionate who breed men like -us, and throw us adrift upon the world to wear out our miserable lives. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -DE PROFUNDIS - - "I've got kitchen for my grub out of the mustard-pot of sorrow." - - --MOLESKIN JOE. - - -At that time there were thousands of navvies working at Kinlochleven -waterworks. We spoke of waterworks, but only the contractors knew what -the work was intended for. We did not know, and we did not care. We -never asked questions concerning the ultimate issue of our labours, and -we were not supposed to ask questions. If a man throws red muck over a -wall to-day and throws it back again to-morrow, what the devil is it to -him if he keeps throwing that same muck over the wall for the rest of -his life, knowing not why nor wherefore, provided he gets paid sixpence -an hour for his labour? There were so many tons of earth to be lifted -and thrown somewhere else; we lifted them and threw them somewhere else: -so many cubic yards of iron-hard rocks to be blasted and carried away; -we blasted and carried them away, but never asked questions and never -knew what results we were labouring to bring about. We turned the -Highlands into a cinder-heap, and were as wise at the beginning as at -the end of the task. Only when we completed the job, and returned to the -town, did we learn from the newspapers that we had been employed on the -construction of the biggest aluminium factory in the kingdom. All that -we knew was that we had gutted whole mountains and hills in the -operations. - -We toiled on the face of the mountain, and our provisions came up on -wires that stretched from the summit to the depths of the valley below. -Hampers of bread, casks of beer, barrels of tinned meat and all manner -of parcels followed one another up through the air day and night in -endless procession, and looked for all the world like great gawky birds -which still managed to fly, though deprived of their wings. - -The postman came up amongst us from somewhere every day, bringing -letters from Ireland, and he was always accompanied by two policemen -armed with batons and revolvers. The greenhorns from Ireland wrote home -and received letters now and again, but the rest of us had no friends, -or if we had we never wrote to them. - -Over an area of two square miles thousands of men laboured, some on the -day-shift, some on the night-shift, some engaged on blasting operations, -some wheeling muck, and others building dams and hewing rock facings. A -sort of rude order prevailed, but apart from the two policemen who -accompanied the letter-carrier on his daily rounds no other minion of -the law ever came near the place. This allowed the physically strong man -to exert considerable influence, and fistic arguments were constantly in -progress. - -Sometimes a stray clergyman, ornamented with a stainless white collar, -had the impudence to visit us and tell us what we should do. These -visitors were most amusing, and we enjoyed their exhortations -exceedingly. Once I told one of them that if he was more in keeping with -the Workman whom he represented, some of the navvies stupider than -myself might endure his presence, but that no one took any heed of the -apprentice who dressed better than his Divine Master. We usually chased -these faddists away, and as they seldom had courage equal to their -impudence, they never came near us again. - -There was a graveyard in the place, and a few went there from the last -shift with the red muck still on their trousers, and their long unshaven -beards still on their faces. Maybe they died under a fallen rock or -broken derrick jib. Once dead they were buried, and there was an end of -them. - -Most of the men lifted their sub. every second day, and the amount left -over after procuring food was spent in the whisky store or -gambling-school. Drunkenness enjoyed open freedom in Kinlochleven. I saw -a man stark naked, lying dead drunk for hours on a filthy muck-pile. No -one was shocked, no one was amused, and somebody stole the man's -clothes. When he became sober he walked around the place clad in a -blanket until he procured a pair of trousers from some considerate -companion. - -I never stole from a mate in Kinlochleven, for it gave me no pleasure to -thieve from those who were as poor as myself; but several of my mates -had no compunction in relieving me of my necessaries. My three and -sixpenny keyless watch was taken from my breast pocket one night when I -was asleep, and my only belt disappeared mysteriously a week later. No -man in the place save Moleskin Joe ever wore braces. I had only one -shirt in my possession, but there were many people in the place who -never had a shirt on their backs. Sometimes when the weather was good I -washed my shirt, and I lost three, one after the other, when I hung them -out to dry. I did not mind that very much, knowing well that it only -passed to one of my mates, who maybe needed it more than I did. If I saw -one of my missing shirts afterwards I took it from the man who wore it, -and if he refused to give it to me, knocked him down and took it by -force. Afterwards we bore one another no ill-will. Stealing is rife in -shack, on road, and in model, but I have never known one of my kind to -have given up a mate to the police. That is one dishonourable crime -which no navvy will excuse. - -As the days went on, I became more careless of myself, and I seldom -washed. I became like my mates, like Moleskin, who was so fit and -healthy, and who never washed from one year's end to another. Often in -his old tin-pot way he remarked that a man could often be better than -his surroundings, but never cleaner. "A dirty man's the only man who -washes," he often said. When we went to bed at night we hid our clothes -under the pillows, and sometimes they were gone in the morning. In the -bunk beneath ours slept an Irishman named Ward, and to prevent them -passing into the hands of thieves he wore all his clothes when under the -blankets. But nevertheless, his boots were unlaced and stolen one night -when he was asleep and drunk. - -One favourite amusement of ours was the looting of provisions as they -came up on the wires to the stores on the mountains. Day and night the -hampers of bread and casks of beer were passing over our heads suspended -in midair on the glistening metal strings. Sometimes the weighty barrels -and cases dragged the wires downwards until their burdens rested on the -shoulder of some uprising knoll. By night we sallied forth and looted -all the provisions on which we could lay our hands. We rifled barrels -and cases, took possession of bread, bacon, tea, and sugar, and filled -our stomachs cheaply for days afterwards. The tops of fallen casks we -staved in, and using our hands as cups drank of the contents until we -could hold no more. Sometimes men were sent out to watch the hillocks -and see that no one looted the grub and drink. These men were paid -double for their work. They deserved double pay, for of their own accord -they tilted the barrels and cases from their rests and kept them under -their charge until we arrived. Then they helped us to dispose of the -contents. Usually the watcher lay dead drunk beside his post in the -morning. Of course he got his double pay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -A LITTLE TRAGEDY - - "The sweat was wet on his steaming loins and shoulders bent and - scarred, - And he dropped to earth like a spavined mule that's struck in the - knacker's yard. - Bury him deep in the red, red muck, and pile the clay on his - breast, - For all that he needs for his years of toil are years of unbroken - rest." - - --_From the song that follows._ - - -Talking of thieving puts me in mind of the tragedy of English Bill. Bill -was a noted thief. He would have robbed his mother's corpse, it was -said. There were three sayings in Kinlochleven, and they were as -follows: - - - Moleskin Joe would gamble on his father's tombstone. - English Bill would rob his mother of her winding-sheet. - Flynn would fight his own shadow and get the best of it. - - -The three of us were mates, and we were engaged on a special job, -blasting a rock facing, in the corner of a secluded cutting. There was -very little room for movement, and we had to do the job all by -ourselves. One evening we set seven charges of dynamite in the holes -which we had drilled during the day, put the fuses alight, and hurried -off to a place of safety, and there waited until the explosion was over. -While the thunder of the riven earth was still in our ears the ganger -blew his whistle, the signal to cease work and return to our shacks. - -Next morning Bill reappeared wearing a strong heavily-soled pair of new -bluchers which he had purchased on the evening previously. - -"They're a good pair of understandings, Bill," I said, as I examined my -mate's boots with a feeling of envy. - -"A damned good pair!" said Moleskin ruefully, looking at his own bare -toes peeping through the ragged leather of his emaciated uppers. - -Bill's face glowed with pride as he lifted his pick and proceeded to -clean out the refuse from the rock face. Bill was always in a hurry to -start work, and Joe often prophesied that the man would come to a bad -end. On this morning Joe was in a bad temper, for he had drunk too well -the night before. - -"Stow it, you fool," he growled at Bill. "You're a damned hasher, and no -ganger within miles of you!" - -Bill made no reply, but lifted his pick and drove it into the rock which -we had blasted on the day before. As he struck the ground there was a -deadly roar; the pick whirled round, sprung upwards, twirled in the air -like a wind-swept straw, and entered Bill's throat just a finger's -breadth below the Adam's apple. One of the dynamite charges had failed -to explode on the previous day, and Bill had struck it with the point of -the pick, and with this tool which had earned him his livelihood for -many years sticking in his throat he stood for a moment swaying -unsteadily. He laughed awkwardly as if ashamed of what had happened, -then dropped silently to the ground. The pick slipped out, a red foam -bubbled on the man's lips for a second, and that was all. - -The sight unnerved us for a moment, but we quickly recovered. We had -looked on death many times, and our virgin terror was now almost lost. - -"He's no good here now," said Moleskin sadly. "We'll look for a -muck-barrow and wheel him down to the hut. Didn't I always say that he -would come to a bad end, him with his hurry and flurry and his frothy -get-about way?" - -"He saved us by his hurry, anyhow," I remarked. - -We turned the man over and straightened his limbs, then hurried off for -a muck-barrow. On coming back we discovered that some person had stolen -the man's boots. - -"They should have been taken by us before we left him," I said. - -"You're damned right," assented Joe. - -Several of the men gathered around, and together we wheeled poor Bill -down to the hut along the rickety barrow road. His face was white under -the coating of beard, and his poor naked feet looked very blue and cold. -All the workmen took off their caps and stood bareheaded until we passed -out of sight. No one knew whose turn would come next. When Bill was -buried I wrote, at the request of Moleskin Joe, a song on the tragedy. I -called the song "A Little Tragedy," and I read it to my mate as we sat -together in a quiet corner of the hut. - - - "A LITTLE TRAGEDY. - - "The sweat was wet on his steaming loins and shoulders bent and - scarred, - And he dropped to earth like a spavined mule that's struck in the - knacker's yard. - Bury him deep in the red, red muck, and pile the clay on his - breast, - For all that he needs for his years of toil are years of unbroken - rest. - - "And who has mothered this kinless one? Why should we want to know - As we hide his face from the eyes of men and his flesh from the - hooded crow? - Had he a sweetheart to wait for him, with a kiss for his toil-worn - face? - It doesn't matter, for here or there another can fill his place. - - "Is there a prayer to be prayed for him? Or is there a bell to - toll? - We'll do the best for the body that's dead, and God can deal with - the soul. - We'll bury him decently out of sight, and he who can may pray. - For maybe our turn will come to-morrow though his has come to-day. - - "And maybe Bill had hopes of his own and a sort of vague desire - For a pure woman to share his home and sit beside his fire; - Joys like these he has maybe desired, but living and dying wild, - He has never known of a maiden's love nor felt the kiss of a child. - - "In life he was worth some shillings a day when there was work to - do, - In death he is worth a share of the clay which in life he laboured - through; - Wipe the spume from his pallid lips, and quietly cross his hands, - And leave him alone with the Mother Earth and the Master who - understands." - - -My mate seemed very much impressed by the poem, and remained silent for -a long while after I had finished reading it from the dirty scrap of -tea-paper on which it was written. - -"Have you ever cared a lot for some one girl, Flynn?" he asked suddenly. - -"No," I answered, for I had never disclosed my little love affair to any -man. - -"Have you ever cared a lot for one girl, Flynn?" repeated Joe. - -"I have cared--once," I replied, and, obeying the impulse of the moment, -I told Joe the story. He looked grave when I had finished. - -"They're all the same," he said; "all the same. I cared for a wench -myself one time and I intended to marry her." - -I looked at my mate's unshaven face, his dirty clothes, and I laughed -outright. - -"I'm nothin' great in the beauty line," went on Moleskin as if divining -my thoughts; "but when I washed myself years ago I was pretty passable. -She was a fine girl, mine, and I thought that she was decent and -aboveboard. It cost me money and time to find out what she was, and in -the end I found that she was the mother of two kids, and the lawful wife -of no man. It was a great slap in the face for me, Flynn." - -"It must have been," was all that I could say. - -"By God! it was," Moleskin replied. "I tried to drink my regret away, -but I never could manage it. Have you ever wrote a love song?" - -"I've written one," I said. - -"Will you say it to me?" asked Joe. - -I had written a love song long before, and knew it by heart, for it was -a song which I liked very much. I recited it to my mate, speaking in -half-whispers so that the gamblers at the far end of the shack could not -hear me. - - - "A LOVE SONG - - "Greater by far than all that men know, or all that men see is - this-- - The lingering clasp of a maiden's hand and the warmth of her virgin - kiss, - The tresses that cover the pure white brow in many a clustering - curl, - And the deep look of honest love in the grey eyes of a girl. - - "Because of that I am stronger than death and life is barren no - more, - For otherwise wrongs that I hardly feel would sink to the heart's - deep core, - For otherwise hope were utterly lost in the endless paths of - wrong-- - But only to look in her soft grey eyes--I am strong, I am strong! - - "Does she love as I love? I do not know, but all that I know is - this-- - 'Tis enough to stay for an hour at her side and dream awhile of her - kiss, - 'Tis enough to clasp the hands of her, and 'neath the shade of her - hair - To press my lips on her lily brow and leave my kisses there. - - "In the dreary days on the vagrant ways whereon my feet have trod - She came as a star to cheer my way, a guiding star from God, - She came from the dreamy choirs of heaven, lovely and wondrous - wise, - And I follow the path that is lighted up by her eyes, her eyes." - - -"I don't like that song, because I don't know what it is about," said -Moleskin when I had finished. "The one about English Bill is far and -away better. When you talk about a man that drops like a spavined mule -in the knacker's yard, I know what you mean, but a girl that comes from -the dreamy choirs of heaven, wherever they are, is not the kind of wench -for a man like you and me, Flynn." - -I felt a little disappointed, and made no reply to the criticism of my -mate. - -"Do you ever think how nice it would be to have a home of your own?" -asked Moleskin after a long silence, and a vigorous puffing at the pipe -which he held between his teeth. "It would be fine to have a room to sit -in and a nice fire to warm your shins at of an evenin'. I often think -how roarin' it would be to sit in a parlour and drink tea with a wife, -and have a little child to kiss me as you talk about in the song on the -death of English Bill." - -I did not like to hear my big-boned, reckless mate talk in such a way. -Such talk was too delicate and sentimental for a man like him. - -"You're a fool, Joe," I said. - -"I suppose I am," he answered. "But just you wait till you come near the -turn of life like me, and find a sort of stiffness grippin' on your -bones, then you'll maybe have thoughts kind of like these. A young -fellow, cully, mayn't care a damn if he is on the dead end, but by God! -it is a different story when you are as stiff as a frozen poker with one -foot in the grave and another in hell, Flynn." - -"It was a different story the day you met the ploughman, on our journey -from Greenock," I said. "You must have changed your mind, Moleskin?" - -"I said things to that ploughman that I didn't exactly believe myself," -said my mate. "I would do anything and say anything to get the best of -an argument." - -Many a strange conversation have I had with Moleskin Joe. One evening -when I was seated by the hot-plate engaged in patching my corduroy -trousers Joe came up to me with a question which suddenly occurred to -him. I was held to be a sort of learned man, and everybody in the place -asked me my views upon this and that, and no one took any heed of my -opinions. Most of them acknowledged that I was nearly as great a poet as -Two-shift Mullholland, now decently married, and gone from the ranks of -the navvies. - -"Do you believe in God, Flynn?" was Joe's question. - -"I believe in a God of a sort," I answered. "I believe in the God who -plays with a man, as a man plays with a dog, who allows suffering and -misery and pain. The 'Holy-Willy' look on a psalm-singing parson's dial -is of no more account to Him than a blister on a beggar's foot." - -"I only asked you the question, just as a start-off to tellin' you my -own opinion," said Joe. "Sometimes I think one thing about God, and -sometimes I think another thing. The song that you wrote about English -Bill talks of God takin' care of the soul, and it just came into my head -to ask your opinion and tell you my own. As for myself, when I see a man -droppin' down like a haltered gin-horse at his work I don't hold much -with what parsons say about the goodness of Providence. At other times, -when I am tramping about in the lonely night, with the stars out above -me and the world kind of holding its breath as if it was afraid of -something, I do be thinking that there is a God after all. I'd rather -that there is none; for He is sure to have a heavy tally against me if -He puts down all the things I've done. But where is heaven if there is -such a place?" - -"I don't know," I replied. - -"If you think of it, there is no end to anything," Moleskin went on. "If -you could go up above the stars, there is surely a place above them, and -another place in turn above that again. You cannot think of a place -where there is nothing, and as far as I can see there is no end to -anything. You can't think of the last day as they talk about, for that -would mean the end of time. It's funny to think of a man sayin' that -there'll be no time after such and such a time. How can time stop?" - -I tried to explain to Joe that time and space did not exist, that they -were illusions used for practical purposes. - -"No man can understand these things," said Joe, as I fumbled through my -explanation of the non-existence of time and space. "I have often looked -at the little brooks by the roadside and saw the water runnin', runnin', -always lookin' the same, and the water different always. When I looked -at the little brooks I often felt frightened, because I could not -understand them. All these things are the same, and no man can -understand them. Why does a brook keep runnin'? Why do the stars come -out at night? Is there a God in Heaven? Nobody knows, and a man may -puzzle about these things till he's black in the face and grey in the -head, but he'll never get any further." - -"English Bill may know more about these things than we do," I said. - -"How could a dead man know anything?" asked Joe, and when I could not -explain the riddle, he borrowed a shilling from me and lost it at the -gaming-table. - -That was Joe all over. One moment he was looking for God in Nature, and -on the next instant he was looking for a shilling to stake on the -gaming-table. Once in an argument with me he called the world "God's -gamblin' table," and endeavoured to prove that God threw down men, -reptiles, nations, and elements like dice to the earth, one full of -hatred for the other and each filled with a desire for supremacy, and -that God and His angels watched the great struggle down below, and -betted on the result of its ultimate issue. - -"Of course the angels will not back Kinlochleven very heavily," he -concluded. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -I WRITE FOR THE PAPERS - - "'Awful Railway Disaster,' - The newspapers chronicle, - The men in the street are buying. - My! don't the papers sell. - And the editors say in their usual way, - 'The story is going well.'" - - --From _Songs of the Dead End_. - - -Day after day passed and the autumn was waning. The work went on, shift -after shift, and most of the money that I earned was spent on the -gambling table or in the whisky store. Now and again I wrote home, and -sent a few pounds to my people, but I never sent them my address. I did -not want to be upbraided for my negligence in sending them so little. -The answers to my letters would always be the same: "Send more money; -send more money. You'll never have a day's luck if you do not help your -parents!" I did not want answers like that, so I never sent my address. - -One night towards the end of October I had lost all my money at the -gambling school, although Moleskin had twice given me a stake to -retrieve my fallen fortunes. I left the shack, went out into the -darkness, a fire in my head and emptiness in my heart. Around me the -stark mountain peaks rose raggedly against the pale horns of the anæmic -moon. Outside the whisky store a crowd of men stood, dark looks on their -faces, and the wild blood of mischief behind. Inside each shack a dozen -or more gamblers sat cross-legged in circles on the ground, playing -banker or brag, and the clink of money could be heard as it passed from -hand to hand. Above them the naphtha lamps hissed and spluttered and -smelt, the dim, sickly light showed the unwashed and unshaven faces -beneath, and the eager eyes that sparkled brightly, seeing nothing but -the movements of the game. Down in the cuttings men were labouring on -the night-shift, gutting out the bowels of the mountain places, and -forcing their way through the fastness steadily, slowly and surely. I -could hear the dynamite exploding and shattering to pieces the rock in -which it was lodged. The panting of weary hammermen was loud in the -darkness, and the rude songs which enlivened the long hours of the night -floated up to me from the trough of the hills. - -I took my way over the slope of the mountain, over the pigmies who -wrought beneath, fighting the great fight which man has to wage -eternally against nature. Down in the cuttings I could see my mates -toiling amidst the broken earth, the sharp ledges of hewn rock, and the -network of gang-planks and straining derricks that rose all around them. -The red glare of a hundred evil-smelling torches flared dismally, and -over the sweltering men the dark smoke faded away into the rays of the -pallid moon. With the rising smoke was mingled the steam of the men's -bent shoulders and steaming loins. - -Above and over all, the mystery of the night and the desert places -hovered inscrutable and implacable. All around the ancient mountains sat -like brooding witches, dreaming on their own story of which they knew -neither the beginning nor the end. Naked to the four winds of heaven and -all the rains of the world, they had stood there for countless ages in -all their sinister strength, undefied and unconquered, until man, with -puny hands and little tools of labour, came to break the spirit of -their ancient mightiness. - -And we, the men who braved this task, were outcasts of the world. A -blind fate, a vast merciless mechanism, cut and shaped the fabric of our -existence. We were men flogged to the work which we had to do, and -hounded from the work which we had accomplished. We were men despised -when we were most useful, rejected when we were not needed, and -forgotten when our troubles weighed upon us heavily. We were the men -sent out to fight the spirit of the wastes, rob it of all its primeval -horrors, and batter down the barriers of its world-old defences. Where -we were working a new town would spring up some day; it was already -springing up, and then, if one of us walked there, "a man with no fixed -address," he would be taken up and tried as a loiterer and vagrant. - -Even as I thought of these things a shoulder of jagged rock fell into a -cutting far below. There was the sound of a scream in the distance, and -a song died away in the throat of some rude singer. Then out of the pit -I saw men, red with the muck of the deep earth and redder still with the -blood of a stricken mate, come forth, bearing between them a silent -figure. Another of the pioneers of civilisation had given up his life -for the sake of society. - -I returned to the shack, and, full of the horror of the tragedy, I wrote -an account of it on a scrap of tea-paper. I had no design, no purpose in -writing, but I felt compelled to scribble down the thoughts which -entered my mind. I wrote rapidly, but soon wearied of my work. I was -proceeding to tear up the manuscript when my eye fell on a newspaper -which had just come into the shack wrapped around a chunk of mouldy -beef. A thought came to me there and then. I would send my account of -the tragedy to the editor of that paper. It was the _Dawn_, a London -halfpenny daily. I had never heard of it before. - -I had no envelope in my possession. I searched through the shack and -found one, dirty, torn, and disreputable in appearance. Amongst all -those men there was not another to be found. I did not rewrite my story. -Scrawled with pencil on dirty paper, and enclosed in a dirtier envelope, -I sent it off to Fleet Street and forgot all about it. But, strange to -say, in four days' time I received an answer from the editor of the -_Dawn_, asking me to send some more stories of the same kind, and saying -that he was prepared to pay me two guineas for each contribution -accepted. - -The acceptance of my story gave me no great delight; I often went into -greater enthusiasm over a fight in the Kinlochleven ring. But outside a -fight or a stiff game of cards, there are few things which cause me to -become excited. My success as a writer discomfited me a little even. I -at first felt that I was committing some sin against my mates. I was -working on a shift which they did not understand; and men look with -suspicion on things beyond their comprehension. A man may make money at -a fight, a gaming table or at a shift, but the man who made money with a -dirty pencil and a piece of dirty paper was an individual who had no -place in my mates' scheme of things. - -For all that, the editor's letter created great stir amongst my mates. -It passed round the shack and was so dirty on coming back that I -couldn't read a word of it. Red Billy said that he could not understand -it, and that I must have copied what I had written from some other -paper. Moleskin Joe said that I was the smartest man he had ever met, by -cripes! I was. He took great pleasure in calling me "that mate of mine" -ever afterwards. Old Sandy MacDonald, who had come from the Isle of -Skye, and who was wasting slowly away, said that he knew a young lad -like me who went from the Highlands to London and made his fortune by -writing for the papers. - -"He had no other wark but writin', and he made his fortune," Sandy -asserted, and everyone except myself laughed at this. It was such a -funny thing to hear old Sandy make his first joke, my mates thought. A -man to earn his living by writing for the papers! Whoever heard of such -a thing? - -In all I wrote five articles for the _Dawn_, then found that I could -write no more. I had told five truthful and exciting incidents of my -navvying life, and I was not clever enough to tell lies about it. Ten -guineas came to me from Fleet Street. Six of these I sent home to my own -people, and for the remainder I purchased many an hour's joy in the -whisky store and many a night's life-giving excitement at the gaming -table. - -I sent my address home with the letter, and when my mother replied she -was so full of her grievances that she had no time to enquire if I had -any of my own. Another child had been born, and the family in all now -consisted of thirteen. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -WINTER - - "Do you mind the nights we laboured, boys, together, - Spreadeagled at our travail on the joists, - With the pulley-wheels a-turning and the naphtha lamps a-burning, - And the mortar crawling upwards on the hoists, - When our hammers clanked like blazes on the facing, - When the trestles shook and staggered as we struck, - When the derricks on their pivots strained and broke the - crank-wheel rivets - As the shattered jib sank heavy in the muck?" - - --From _Songs of the Dead End_. - - -The winter was at hand. When the night drew near, a great weariness came -over the face of the sun as it sank down behind the hills which had seen -a million sunsets. The autumn had been mild and gentle, its breezes -soft, its showers light and cool. But now, slowly and surely, the great -change was taking place; a strange stillness settled softly on the -lonely places. Nature waited breathless on the threshold of some great -event, holding her hundred winds suspended in a fragile leash. The -heather bells hung motionless on their stems, the torrents dropped -silently as smoke from the scarred edges of the desolate ravines, but in -this silence there lay a menace; in its supreme poise was the threat of -coming danger. The crash of our hammers was an outrage, and the -exploding dynamite a sacrilege against tired nature. - -A great weariness settled over us; our life lacked colour, we were -afraid of the silence, the dulness of the surrounding mountains weighed -heavily on our souls. The sound of labour was a comfort, the thunder of -our hammers went up as a threat against the vague implacable portent of -the wild. - -Life to me had now become dull, expressionless, stupid. Only in drink -was there contentment, only in a fight was there excitement. I hated the -brown earth, the slushy muck and gritty rock, but in the end hatred died -out and I was almost left without passion or longing. My life now had no -happiness and no great sadness. My soul was proof against sorrow as it -was against joy. Happiness and woe were of no account; life was a spread -of brown muck, without any relieving splash of lighter or darker -colours. For all that, I had no great desire (desire was almost dead -even) to go down to the Lowlands and look for a newer job. So I stayed -amidst the brown muck and existed. - -When I had come up my thoughts for a long while were eternally straying -to Norah Ryan, but in the end she became to me little more than a -memory, a frail and delightful phantom of a fleeting dream. - -The coming of winter was welcome. The first nipping frost was a call to -battle, and, though half afraid, most of the men were willing to accept -the challenge. A few, it is true, went off to Glasgow, men old and -feeble who were afraid of the coming winter. - -In the fight to come the chances were against us. Rugged cabins with -unplanked floors, leaking roofs, flimsy walls, through the chinks of -which the winds cut like knives, meagre blankets, mouldy food, well-worn -clothes, and battered bluchers were all that we possessed to aid us in -the struggle. On the other hand, the winter marshalled all her forces, -the wind, the hail, frost, snow, and rain, and it was against these that -we had to fight, and for the coming of the opposing legions we waited -tensely and almost eagerly. - -But the north played a wearing game, and strove to harry us out with -suspense before thundering down upon us with her cold and her storm. The -change took place slowly. In a day we could hardly feel it, in a week -something intangible and subtle, something which could not be defined, -had crept into our lives. We felt the change, but could not localise it. -Our spirits sank under the uncertainty of the waiting days, but still -the wild held her hand. The bells of the heather hung from their stems -languidly and motionless, stripped of all their summer charm, but -lacking little of the hue of summer. Even yet the foam-flecked waters -dropped over the cliffs silently as figures that move in a dream. When -we gathered together and ate our midday meal, we wrapped our coats -around our shoulders, whereas before we had sat down without them. When -night came on we drew nearer to the hot-plate, and when we turned naked -into bed we found that the blankets were colder than usual. Only thus -did the change affect us for a while. Then the cold snap came suddenly -and wildly. - -The plaintive sunset waned into a sickly haze one evening, and when the -night slipped upwards to the mountain peaks never a star came out into -the vastness of the high heavens. Next morning we had to thaw the door -of our shack out of the muck into which it was frozen during the night. -Outside the snow had fallen heavily on the ground, and the virgin -granaries of winter had been emptied on the face of the world. - -Unkempt, ragged, and dispirited, we slunk to our toil, the snow falling -on our shoulders and forcing its way insistently through our worn and -battered bluchers. The cuttings were full of slush to the brim, and we -had to grope through them with our hands until we found the jumpers and -hammers at the bottom. These we held under our coats until the heat of -our bodies warmed them, then we went on with our toil. - -At intervals during the day the winds of the mountain put their heads -together and swept a whirlstorm of snow down upon us, wetting each man -to the pelt. Our tools froze until the hands that gripped them were -scarred as if by red-hot spits. We shook uncertain over our toil, our -sodden clothes scalding and itching the skin with every movement of the -swinging hammers. Near at hand the lean derrick jibs whirled on their -pivots like spectres of some ghoulish carnival, and the muck-barrows -crunched backwards and forwards, all their dirt and rust hidden in -woolly mantles of snow. Hither and thither the little black figures of -the workers moved across the waste of whiteness like shadows on a -lime-washed wall. Their breath steamed out on the air and disappeared in -space like the evanescent and fragile vapour of frying mushrooms. - -"On a day like this a man could hardly keep warm on the red-hot hearth -of hell!" Moleskin remarked at one time, when the snow whirled around -the cutting, causing us to gasp with every fiercely-taken breath. - -"Ye'll have a heat on the same hearthstone some day," answered Red -Billy, who held a broken lath in one mittened hand, while he whittled -away with his eternal clasp-knife. - -When night came on we crouched around the hot-plate and told stories of -bygone winters, when men dropped frozen stiff in the trenches where they -laboured. A few tried to gamble near the door, but the wind that cut -through the chinks of the walls chased them to the fire. Moleskin told -the story of his first meeting with me on the Paisley toll-road, and -suddenly I realised that I was growing old. It was now some years since -that meeting took place, and even then I was a man, unaided and alone, -fighting the great struggle of existence. I capped Moleskin's story with -the account of Mick Deehan's death on the six-foot way. Afterwards the -men talked loudly of many adventures. Long lonely shifts were spoken of, -nights and days when the sweat turned to ice on the eyelashes, when the -cold nipped to the bone and chilled the workers at their labours. One -man slipped off the snow-covered gang-plank and fell like a rock forty -feet through space. - -"Flattened out like a jelly-fish on the groun' he was," said Clancy, who -told the story. - -Red Billy, who worked on the railway line in his younger days, gave an -account of Mick Cassidy's death. Mick was sent out to free the -ice-locked facing points, and when they were closed by the signalman, -Cassidy's hand got wedged between the blades and the rail. - -"Held like a louse was Cassidy, until the train threw him clear," -concluded Billy, adding reflectively that "he might have been saved if -he had had somethin' in one hand to hack the other hand off with." - -Joe told how one Ned Farley got his legs wedged between the planks of a -mason's scaffold and hung there head downwards for three hours. When -Farley got relieved he was a raving madman, and died two hours -afterwards. We all agreed that death was the only way out in a case like -that. - -Gahey told of a night's doss at the bottom of a coal slip in a railway -siding. He slept there with three other people, two men and a woman. As -the woman was a bad one it did not matter very much to anyone where she -slept. During the night a waggon of coal was suddenly shot down the -slip. Gahey got clear, leaving his thumb with the three corpses which -remained behind. - -"It was a bad endin', even for a woman like that," someone said. - -Outside the winds of the night scampered madly, whistling through every -crevice of the shack and threatening to smash all its timbers to -pieces. We bent closer over the hot-plate, and the many who could not -draw near to the heat scrambled into bed and sought warmth under the -meagre blankets. Suddenly the lamp went out, and a darkness crept into -the corners of the dwelling, causing the figures of my mates to assume -fantastic shapes in the gloom. The circle around the hot-plate drew -closer, and long lean arms were stretched out towards the flames and the -redness. Seldom may a man have the chance to look on hands like those of -my mates. Fingers were missing from many, scraggy scars seaming along -the wrists or across the palms of others told of accidents which had -taken place on many precarious shifts. The faces near me were those of -ghouls worn out in some unholy midnight revel. Sunken eyes glared -balefully in the dim unearthly light of the fire, and as I looked at -them a moment's terror settled on my soul. For a second I lived in an -early age, and my mates were the cave-dwellers of an older world than -mine. In the darkness, near the door, a pipe glowed brightly for a -moment, then the light went suddenly out and the gloom settled again. -The reaction came when Two-shift Mullholland's song, _The Bold Navvy -Man_, was sung by Clancy of the Cross. We joined lustily in the chorus, -and the roof shook with the thunder of our voices. - - - "THE BOLD NAVVY MAN. - - "I've navvied here in Scotland, I've navvied in the south, - Without a drink to cheer me or a crust to cross me mouth, - I fed when I was workin' and starved when out on tramp, - And the stone has been me pillow and the moon above me lamp. - I have drunk me share and over when I was flush with tin, - For the drouth without was nothin' to the drouth that burned - within! - And where'er I've filled me billy and where'er I've drained me can, - I've done it like a navvy, a bold navvy man. - A bold navvy man, - An old navvy man, - And I've done me graft and stuck it like a bold navvy man. - - "I've met a lot of women and I liked them all a spell-- - They drive some men to drinkin' and also some to hell, - But I have never met her yet, the woman cute who can - Learn a trick to Old Nick or the bold navvy man. - Oh! the sly navvy man, - And the fly navvy man, - Sure a woman's always runnin' to the bold navvy man. - - "I do not care for ladies grand who are of high degree, - A winsome wench and willin', she is just the one for me, - Drink and love are classed as sins, as mortal sins by some, - I'll drink and drink whene'er I can, the drouth is sure to come-- - And I will love till lusty life runs out its mortal span, - The end of which is in the ditch for many a navvy man. - The bold navvy man, - The old navvy man, - Safe in a ditch with heels cocked up, so dies the navvy man. - - "I've splashed a thousand models red and raised up fiery Cain - From Glasgow down to Dover Pier and back that road again; - I've fought me man for hours on end, stark naked to the buff - And me and him, we never knew when we had got enough. - 'Twas skin and hair all flyin' round and red blood up and out, - And me or him could hardly tell what brought the fight about.-- - 'Tis wenches, work and fight and fun and drink whene'er I can - That makes the life of stress and strife as suits the navvy man! - - -"Let her go, boys; let her go now!" roared Clancy, rising to his feet, -kicking a stray frying-pan and causing it to clatter across the shack. -"All together, boys; damn you, all together! - - - "Then hurrah! ev'ry one - For the bold navvy man, - For fun and fight are damned all right for any navvy man!" - - -Even old Sandy MacDonald joined in the chorus with his weak and -querulous voice. The winter was touching him sharply, and he was worse -off than any of us. Along with the cold he had his wasting disease to -battle against, and God alone knew how he managed to work along with his -strong and lusty mates on the hammer squad at Kinlochleven. Sandy was -not an old man, but what with the dry cough that was in his throat and -the shivers of cold that came over him after a long sweaty shift, it -was easily seen that he had not many months to live in this world. He -looked like a parcel of bones covered with brown withered parchment and -set in the form of a man. How life could remain fretting within such a -frame as his was a mystery which I could not solve. Almost beyond the -effects of heat or cold, the cold sweat came out of his skin on the -sweltering warm days, and when the winter came along, the chilly weather -hardly made him colder than he was by nature. His cough never kept -silent; sometimes it was like the bark of a dog, at other times it -seemed as if it would carry the very entrails out of the man. In the -summer he spat blood with it, but usually it was drier than the east -wind. - -At one period of his life Sandy had had a home and a wife away down in -Greenock; but in those days he was a strong lusty fellow, fit to pull -through a ten-hour shift without turning a hair. One winter's morning he -came out from the sugar refinery, in which he worked, steaming hot from -the long night's labour, and then the cold settled on him. Being a -sober, steady-going man, he tried to work as long as he could lift his -arms, but in the end he had to give up the job which meant life and home -to him. One by one his little bits of things went to the pawnshop; but -all the time he struggled along bravely, trying to keep the roof-tree -over his head and his door shut against the lean spectre of hunger. -Between the four bare walls of the house Sandy's wife died one day; and -this caused the man to break up his home. - -He came to Kinlochleven at the heel of the summer, and because he -mastered his cough for a moment when asking for a job, Red Billy Davis -started him on the jumper squad. The old ganger, despite his swearing -habits and bluntness of discourse, was at heart a very good-natured -fellow. Sandy stopped with us for a long while and it was pitiful to -see him labouring there, his old bones creaking with every move of his -emaciated body, and the cold sweat running off him all day. He ate very -little; the tame robin which flitted round our shack nearly picked as -much from off the floor. He had a bunk to himself at the corner of the -shack, and there he coughed out the long sleepless hours of the night, -bereft of all hope, lacking sympathy from any soul sib to himself, and -praying for the grave which would end all his troubles. For days at a -stretch he lay supine in his bed, unable to move hand or foot, then, -when a moment's relief came to him, he rose and started on his shift -again, crawling out with his mates like a wounded animal. - -Winter came along and Sandy got no better; he could hardly grow worse -and remain alive. Life burned in him like a dying candle in a ruined -house, and he waited for the end of the great martyrdom patiently. -Still, when he could, he kept working day in and day out, through cold -and wet and storm. Heaven knows that it was not work which he needed, -but care, rest, and sympathy. All of us expressed pity for the man, and -helped him in little ways, trying to make life easier for him. Moleskin -usually made gruel for him, while I read the _Oban Times_ to the old -fellow whenever that paper came into the shack. One evening as I read -something concerning the Isle of Skye Sandy burst into tears, like a -homesick child. - -"Man! I would like tae dee there awa' in the Isle of Skye," he said to -me in a yearning voice. - -"Die, you damned old fool, you?" exclaimed Joe, who happened to come -around with a pot of gruel just at that moment and overheard Sandy's -remark. "You'll not die for years yet. I never saw you lookin' so well -in all your life." - -"It's all over with me, Moleskin," said poor Sandy. "It's a great wonder -that I've stood it so long, but just now the thocht came to me that I'd -like tae dee awa' back in my own place in the Isle of Skye. If I could -just save as muckle siller as would take me there, I'd be content -enough." - -"Some people are content with hellish little!" said Joe angrily. "You've -got to buck up, man, for there's a good time comin', though you'll -never--I mean that ev'rything will come right in the end. We'll see that -you get home all right, you fool, you!" - -Joe was ashamed to find himself guilty of any kind impulse, and he -endeavoured to hide his good intentions behind rough words. When he -called Sandy an old fool Sandy's eyes sparkled, and he got into such -good humour that he joined in the chorus of the _Bold Navvy Man_ when -Clancy, who is now known as Clancy of the Cross, gave bellow to -Mullholland's _magnum opus_. - -Early on the morning of the next day, which was pay-day, Moleskin was -busy at work sounding the feelings of the party towards a great scheme -which he had in mind; and while waiting at the pay-office when the day's -work was completed, Joe made the following speech to Red Billy's gang, -all of whom, with the exception of Sandy MacDonald, were present. - -"Boys, Sandy MacDonald wants to go home and die in his own place," said -Joe, weltering into his subject at once. "He'll kick the bucket soon, -for he has the look of the grave in his eyes. He only wants as much tin -as will take him home, and that is not much for any man to ask, is it? -So what do you say, boys, to a collection for him, a shillin' a man, or -whatever you can spare? Maybe some day, when you turn respectable, one -of you can say to yourself, 'I once kept myself from gettin' drunk, by -givin' some of my money to a man who needed it more than myself.' Now, -just look at him comin' across there." - -We looked in the direction of Joe's outstretched finger and saw Sandy -coming towards us, his rags fluttering around him like the duds of a -Michaelmas scarecrow. - -"Isn't he a pitiful sight!" Moleskin went on. "He looks like the Angel -of Death out on the prowl! It's a God's charity to help a man like Sandy -and make him happy as we are ourselves. We are at home here; he is not. -So it is up to us to help him out of the place. Boys, listen to me!" -Moleskin's voice sank into an intense whisper. "If every damned man of -you don't pay a shillin' into this collection I'll look for the man that -doesn't, and I'll knuckle his ribs until he pays for booze for ev'ry man -in Billy's shack, by God! I will." - -Everyone paid up decently, and on behalf of the gang I was asked to -present the sum of three pounds fifteen shillings to Sandy MacDonald. -Sandy began to cry like a baby when he got the money into his hands, and -every man in the job called out involuntarily: "Oh! you old fool, you!" - -Pay-day was on Saturday. On Monday morning Sandy intended starting out -on his journey home. All Saturday night he coughed out the long hours of -the darkness, but in the morning he looked fit and well. - -"You'll come through it, you fool!" said Moleskin. "I'll be dead myself -afore you." - -On the next night he went to bed early, and as we sat around the gaming -table we did not hear the racking cough which had torn at the man's -chest for months. - -"He's getting better," we all said. - -"Feeling all right, Sandy?" I asked, as I turned into bed. - -"Mon! I'm feelin' fine now," he answered. "I'm goin' to sleep well -to-night, and I'll be fit for the journey in the morn." - -That night Sandy left us for good. When the morning came we found the -poor wasted fellow lying dead in his bunk, his eyes wide open, his hands -closed tightly, and the long finger-nails cutting into the flesh of the -palm. The money which we gave to the man was bound up in a little -leathern purse tied round his neck with a piece of string. - -The man was very light and it was an easy job to carry him in the little -black box and place him in his home below the red earth of Kinlochleven. -The question as to what should be done with the money arose later. I -suggested that it should be used in buying a little cross for Sandy's -grave. - -"If the dead man wants a cross he can have one," said Moleskin Joe. And -because of what he said and because it was more to our liking, we put -the money up as a stake on the gaming table. Clancy won the pile, -because his luck was good on the night of the game. - -That is our reason for calling him Clancy of the Cross ever since. - -The winter rioted on its way. Snow, rain, and wind whirled around us in -the cutting, and wet us to the bone. It was a difficult feat to close -our hands tightly over the hammers with which we took uncertain aim at -the drill heads and jumper ends. The drill holder cowered on his seat -and feared for the moment when an erring hammer might fly clear and -finish his labours for ever. Hourly our tempers grew worse, each -movement of the body caused annoyance and discomfort, and we quarrelled -over the most trivial matters. Red Billy cursed every man in turn and -all in general, until big Jim Maloney lost his temper completely and -struck the ganger on the jaw with his fist, knocking him senseless into -a snowdrift. - -That night Maloney was handed his lying time and told to slide. He -padded from Kinlochleven in the darkness, and I have never seen him -since then. He must have died on the journey. No man could cross those -mountains in the darkness of mid-winter and in the teeth of a -snowstorm. - -Some time afterwards the copy of a Glasgow newspaper, either the -_Evening Times_ or _News_ (I now forget which), came into our shack -wrapped around some provisions, and in the paper I read a paragraph -concerning the discovery of a dead body on the mountains of Argyllshire. -While looking after sheep a shepherd came on the corpse of a man that -lay rotting in a thawing snowdrift. Around the remains a large number of -half-burnt matches were picked up, and it was supposed that the poor -fellow had tried to keep himself warm by their feeble flames in the last -dreadful hours. Nobody identified him, but the paper stated that he was -presumably a navvy who lost his way on a journey to or from the big -waterworks of Kinlochleven. - -As for myself, I am quite certain that it was that of big Jim Maloney. -No man could survive a blizzard on the houseless hills, and big Jim -Maloney never appeared in model or shack afterwards. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -THE GREAT EXODUS - - "We'll lift our time and go, lads, - The long road lies before, - The places that we know, lads, - Will know our like no more. - Foot forth! the last bob's paid out, - Some see their last shift through. - But the men who are not played out - Have other jobs to do." - - --From _Tramp Navvies_. - - -'Twas towards the close of a fine day on the following summer that we -were at work in the dead end of a cutting, Moleskin and I, when I, who -had been musing on the quickly passing years, turned to Moleskin and -quoted a line from the Bible. - -"Our years pass like a tale that is told," I said. - -"Like a tale that is told damned bad," answered my mate, picking stray -crumbs of tobacco from his waistcoat pocket and stuffing them into the -heel of his pipe. "It's a strange world, Flynn. Here to-day, gone -to-morrow; always waitin' for a good time comin' and knowin' that it -will never come. We work with one mate this evenin', we beg for crumbs -with another on the mornin' after. It's a bad life ours, and a poor one, -when I come to think of it, Flynn." - -"It is all that," I assented heartily. - -"Look at me!" said Joe, clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders. -"I must be close on forty years, maybe on the graveyard side of it, for -all I know. I've horsed it since ever I can mind; I've worked like a -mule for years, and what have I to show for it all to-day, matey? Not -the price of an ounce of tobacco! A midsummer scarecrow wouldn't wear -the duds that I've to wrap around my hide! A cockle-picker that has no -property only when the tide is out is as rich as I am. Not the price of -an ounce of tobacco! There is something wrong with men like us, surely, -when we're treated like swine in a sty for all the years of our life. -It's not so bad here, but it's in the big towns that a man can feel it -most. No person cares for the likes of us, Flynn. I've worked nearly -ev'rywhere; I've helped to build bridges, dams, houses, ay, and towns! -When they were finished, what happened? Was it for us--the men who did -the buildin'--to live in the homes that we built, or walk through the -streets that we laid down? No earthly chance of that! It was always, -'Slide! we don't need you any more,' and then a man like me, as helped -to build a thousand houses big as castles, was hellish glad to get the -shelter of a ten-acre field and a shut gate between me and the winds of -night. I've spent all my money, have I? It's bloomin' easy to spend all -that fellows like us can earn. When I was in London I saw a lady spend -as much on fur to decorate her carcase with as would keep me in beer and -tobacco for all the rest of my life. And that same lady would decorate a -dog in ribbons and fol-the-dols, and she wouldn't give me the smell of a -crust when I asked her for a mouthful of bread. What could you expect -from a woman who wears the furry hide of some animal round her neck, -anyhow? We are not thought as much of as dogs, Flynn. By God! them rich -buckos do eat an awful lot. Many a time I crept up to a window just to -see them gorgin' themselves." - -"I have often done the same kind of thing," I said. - -"Most men do," answered Joe. "You've heard of old Moses goin' up the -hill to have a bit peep at the Promist Land. He was just like me and -you, Flynn, wantin' to have a peep at the things which he'd never lay -his claws on." - -"Those women who sit half-naked at the table have big appetites," I -said. - -"They're all gab and guts, like young crows," said Moleskin. "And they -think more of their dogs than they do of men like me and you. I'm an -Antichrist!" - -"A what?" - -"One of them sort of fellows as throws bombs at kings." - -"You mean an Anarchist." - -"Well, whatever they are, I'm one. What is the good of kings, of -fine-feathered ladies, of churches, of anything in the country, to men -like me and you? One time, 'twas when I started trampin' about, I met an -old man on the road and we mucked about, the two of us as mates, for -months afterwards. One night in the winter time, as we were sleepin' -under a hedge, the old fellow got sick, and he began to turn over and -over on his beddin' of frost and his blankets of snow, which was not the -best place to put a sick man, as you know yourself. As the night wore -on, he got worse and worse. I tried to do the best I could for the old -fellow, gave him my muffler and my coat, but the pains in his guts was -so much that I couldn't hardly prevent him from rollin' along the ground -on his stomach. He would do anythin' just to take his mind away from the -pain that he was sufferin'. At last I got him to rise and walk, and we -trudged along till we came to a house by the roadside. 'Twas nearly -midnight and there was a light in one of the windows, so I thought that -I would call at the door and ask for a bit of help. My mate, who bucked -up somewhat when we were walkin', got suddenly worse again, and fell -against the gatepost near beside the road, and stuck there as if glued -on to the thing. I left him by himself and went up to the door and -knocked. A man drew the bolts and looked out at me. He had his collar -on back to front, so I knew that he was a clergyman. - -"'What do you want?' he asked. - -"'My mate's dyin' on your gatepost,' I said. - -"'Then you'd better take him away from here,' said the parson. - -"'But he wants help,' I said. 'He can't go a step further, and if you -could give me a drop of brandy----' - -"I didn't get any further with my story. The fellow whistled for his -dog, and a big black animal came boundin' through the passage and -started snarlin' when it saw me standin' there in the doorway. - -"'Now, you get away from here,' said the clergyman to me. - -"'My mate's dyin',' I said. - -"'Seize him,' said the man to the dog." - -"What a scoundrel that man must have been," I said, interrupting -Moleskin in the midst of his story. - -"He was only a human being, and that's about as bad as a man can be," -said Joe. "Anyway, he put the dog on me and the animal bounded straight -at the thick of my leg, but that animal didn't know that it was up -against Moleskin Joe. I caught hold of the dog by the throat and twisted -its throttle until it snapped like a dry stick. Then I lifted the dead -thing up in my arms and threw it right into the face of the man who was -standin' in the hallway. - -"'Take that an' be thankful that the worst dog of the two of you is not -dead,' I shouted. 'And when it comes to a time that sees you hangin' on -the lower cross-bars of the gates of heaven, waitin' till you get in, -may you be kept there till I give the word for you to pass through.' - -"My mate was still hangin' on the gatepost when I came back, and he was -as dead as a maggot. I could do nothin' for a dead man, so I went on my -own, leavin' him hangin' there like a dead crow in a turnip field. Next -mornin' a cop lifted me and I was charged with assaultin' a minister and -killin' his dog. I got three months hard, and it was hard to tell -whether for hittin' the man or killin' the dog. Anyway, the fellow got -free, although he allowed a man to die at his own doorstep. I never -liked clergy before, and I hate them ever since; but I know, as you -know, that it's not for the likes of you and me that they work for." - -"Time to stop lookin' at your work, boys!" interrupted Red Billy, as he -approached us, carrying his watch and eternal clasp-knife in his hands. -"Be damned to you, you could look at your work all day, you love it so -much. But when you go to the pay-office to-night, you'll hear a word or -two that will do you good, you will!" - -On arriving at the pay-office, every man in turn was handed his lying -time and told that his services were no longer required. Red Billy -passed the money out through the window of the shack which served as -money-box. Moleskin came after me, and he carefully counted the money -handed to him. - -"Half-a-crown wrong in your tally, old cock," he said to Red Billy. -"Fork out the extra two-and-a-tanner, you unsanctified, chicken-chested -cheat. I didn't think that it was in your carcase to cheat a man of his -lyin' time." - -"No cheatin'," said Billy. - -"Well, what the hell----!" - -"No cheatin'," interrupted Billy. - -"I'm two-and-a-tanner short----" - -"No cheatin'," piped Billy maliciously. - -"I'll burst your nut, you parrot-faced, gawky son of a Pontius Pilate, -if you don't fork out my full lyin' time!" roared Moleskin. - -"I always charge two-and-six for a pair of boots and the same for a -clasp-knife," said the ganger. - -Billy had a long memory, and Joe was cornered and crestfallen. I, -myself, had almost forgotten about the knife which Joe had lifted from -Red Billy on the morning of our arrival in Kinlochleven, and Joe had -almost lost memory of it as well. - -"I had the best of that bargain," Red Billy went on sweetly. "The knife -was on its last legs and I just intended to buy a new one. A half-crown -was a good penny for a man like me to spend, so I thought that if -Moleskin paid for it, kind of quiet like, it would be a very nice thing -for me--a--very--nice--thing--for--me." - -"I grant that you have the best of me this time," said Moleskin, and a -smile passed over his face. "But my turn will come next, you know. I -wouldn't like to do you any serious harm, Billy, but I must get my own -back. I have only to look for that old woman of yours and send her after -you. I can get her address easy enough, and I have plenty of time to -look for it. You don't care much for your old wife, Billy, do you?" - -Billy made no answer. It was rumoured that his wife was a woman with a -tongue and a temper, and that Billy feared her and spent part of his -time in endeavouring to get out of her way. Joe was working upon this -rumour now, and the ganger began to look uncomfortable. - -"Of course, if I get my half-crown and another to boot, I'll not trouble -to look for the woman," said Joe. "It won't be hard to find her. She'll -have gone back to her own people, and it is well known that they belong -to Paisley. Her brothers are all fightin' men, and ready to maul the man -that didn't play fairly with their own blood relations. By God! they'll -give you a maulin', Billy, when I send them after you. They'll come up -here, and further until they find you out. You'll have to shank it when -they come, run like hell, in fact, and lose your job and your lyin' -time. If you give me seven-and-six I'll not give you away!" - -"I'll give you the half-crown," said Billy. - -"I'm losin' my time talkin' to you," said Joe pleasantly, and he pulled -out his watch. "Every minute I stop here I'm goin' to put my charge up a -shillin'." - -"I'll give you the five shillin's if you go away and keep clear of -Paisley," growled the ganger. "Five shillin's! you damned cheat! Are you -not content with that?" - -"One minute," said Joe solemnly. "Eight-and-six." - -"My God!" Billy cried. "You're goin' to rob me. I'll give you the -seven-and-six." - -We were heartily enjoying it. There were over one hundred men looking -on, and Joe, now master of the strained situation, kept looking -steadfastly at his watch, as if nothing else in the world mattered. - -"Two minutes; nine-and-six," he said at the end of the stated time. - -"Here's your nine-and-six!" roared Billy, passing some silver coins -through the grating. "Here, take it and be damned to you!" - -Joe put the money in his pocket, cast a benevolent glance at Billy, and -my mate and I went out from Kinlochleven. We did not go into the shack -which we had occupied for over a year. There was nothing there belonging -to us, all our property was on our backs or in our pockets, so we turned -away straight from the pay-office and took to the road again. - -The great procession filed down the hillside. Hundreds of men had been -paid off on the same evening. The job was nearly completed, and only a -few hands were required to finish the remainder of the labour. Some men -decided to stay, but a great longing took possession of them at the -last moment, and they followed those who were already on the road. - -Civilisation again! Away behind the hunchbacked mountains the sunset -flamed in all its colours. Islands of jasper were enshrined in lakes of -turquoise, rivers of blood flowed through far-spreading plains of dark -cumulus that were enshrouded in the spell of eternal silence. Overhead -the blue was of the deepest, save where one stray cloud blushed to find -itself alone in the vastness of the high heavens. - -We were an army of scarecrows, ragged, unkempt scare crows of -civilisation. We came down from Kinlochleven in the evening with the -glow of the setting sun full in our faces, and never have I looked on an -array of men such as we were. Some were old, lame men who might not live -until they obtained their next job, and who would surely drop at their -post when they obtained it. These were the veterans of labour, crawling -along limply in the rear, staggering over boulders and hillocks, men who -were wasted in the long struggle and who were now bound for a new -place--a place where a man might die. They had built their last town and -were no longer wanted there or anywhere else. Strong lusty fellows like -myself took the lead. We possessed hale and supple limbs, and a mile or -two of a journey meant very little to any of us. - -Now and again I looked behind at the followers. The great army spread -out in the centre and tailed away towards the end. A man at the rear sat -down and took a stone out of his boot. His comrades helped him to his -feet when he had finished his task. He was a very old, decrepit, and -weary man; the look of death was in his eyes, but he wanted to walk on. -Maybe he would sit down again at the foot of the mountain. Maybe he -would sleep there, for further down the night breezes were warmer, much -warmer, than the cold winds on the hillside. Probably the old fellow -thought of these things as he tumbled down the face of the mountain; and -perhaps he knew that death was waiting for him at the bottom. - -Some sang as they journeyed along. They sang about love, about drink, -about women and gambling. Most of us joined in the singing. Maybe the -man at the rear sang none, but we could not hear him if he did, he was -so far behind. - -The sun paled out and hid behind a hump of the mountain. Overhead a few -stars twinkled mockingly. In the distance the streams could be heard -falling over the cliffs. Still the mountain vomited out the human -throng, and over all the darkness of the night settled slowly. - -What did the men think of as they walked down from Kinlochleven? It is -hard to say, for the inmost thoughts of a most intimate friend are -hidden from us, for they lack expression and cannot be put into words. -As to myself, I found that my thoughts were running back to Norah Ryan -and the evenings we spent on the shores of the Clyde. I was looking -backward; I had no thoughts, no plans, for the future. - -I was now almost careless of life, indifferent towards fortune, and the -dreams of youth had given place to a placid acceptance of stern -realities. On the way up to the hills I had longed for things beyond my -reach--wealth, comfort, and the love of fair women. But these longings -had now given place to an almost unchanging calm, an indifference -towards women, and an almost stoical outlook on the things that are. -Nothing was to me pleasurable, nothing made me sad. During the last -months in Kinlochleven I had very little desire for drink or cards, but -true to custom I gave up neither. With no man except Moleskin did I -exchange confidences, and even these were of the very slightest. To the -rest of my mates I was always the same, except perhaps in the whisky -saloon or in a fight. They thought me very strong in person and in -character, but when I pried deeply into my own nature I found that I was -full of vanity and weaknesses. The heat of a good fire after a hard -day's work caused me to feel happier; hunger made me sour, a good meal -made me cheerful. One day I was fit for any work; the next day I was -lazy and heedless, and at times I so little resembled myself that I -might be taken for a man of an entirely opposite character. Still, the -river cannot be expected to take on the same form in shine as in shadow, -in level as in steep, and in fall as in freshet. I am a creature of -environment, an environment that is eternally changing. Not being a -stone or clod, I change with it. I was a man of many humours, of many -inconsistencies. The pain of a corn changed my outlook on life. Moleskin -himself was sometimes disgusting in my sight; at other times I was only -happy in his company. But all the time I was the same in the eyes of my -mates, stolid, unsympathetic, and cold. In the end most of my moods -went, and although I had mapped out no course of conduct, I settled into -a temperate contentment, which, though far removed from gladness, had no -connection with melancholy. - -Since I came to Kinlochleven I had not looked on a woman, and the -thoughts of womankind had almost entirely gone from my mind. With the -rest of the men it was the same. The sexual instinct was almost dead in -them. Women were merely dreams of long ago; they were so long out of -sight that the desire for their company had almost expired in every man -of us. Still, it was strange that I should think of Norah Ryan as I -trudged down the hillside from Kinlochleven. - -The men were still singing out their songs, and Joe hummed the chorus -through the teeth that held his empty pipe as he walked along. - -Suddenly the sound of singing died and Moleskin ceased his bellowing -chorus. A great silence fell on the party. The nailed shoes rasping on -the hard earth, and the half-whispered curse of some falling man as he -tripped over a hidden boulder, were the only sounds that could be heard -in the darkness. - -And down the face of the mountain the ragged army tramped slowly on. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -A NEW JOB - - "The more you do, the more you get to do." - - --_Cold Clay Philosophy._ - - -When we arrived in Glasgow I parted company with Moleskin Joe. I told -him that I was going to work on the railway if I got an opening, but my -mate had no liking for a job where the pay could be only lifted once a -fortnight; he wanted his sub. every second day at least. He set out for -the town of Carlisle. There was a chance of getting a real job there, he -said. - -"Mind you, if there's a chance goin' for another man, I'll let you know -about it," he added. "I would like you to come and work along with me, -matey, for me and you get on well together. Keep clear of women and -always stand up to your man until he knocks you out--that's if you're -gettin' the worst of the fight." - -We parted without a handshake, as is the custom with us navvy men. He -never wrote to me, for I had no address when he left, and he did not -know the exact model to which he was going. Once out of each other's -sight, the link that bound us together was broken, and being homeless -men we could not correspond. Perhaps we would never meet again. - -I got a job on the railway and obtained lodgings in a dismal and crooked -street, which was a den of disfigured children and a hothouse of -precocious passion, in the south side of Glasgow. The landlady was an -Irishwoman, bearded like a man, and the mother of several children. When -indoors, she spent most of her time feeding one child, while swearing -like a carter at all the others. We slept in the one room, mother, -children and myself, and all through the night the children yelled like -cats in the moonshine. The house was alive with vermin. The landlady's -husband was a sailor who went out on ships to foreign parts and always -returned drunk from his voyages. When at home he remained drunk all the -time, and when he left again he was as drunk as he could hold. I had no -easy job to put up with him at first, and in the end we quarrelled and -fought. He accused me of being too intimate with his wife when he was -away from home. I told him that my taste was not so utterly bad, for -indeed I had no inclination towards any woman, let alone the hairy and -unkempt person who was my landlady. I struck out for him on the stair -head. Three flights of stairs led from the door of the house down to the -ground floor. I threw the sailor down the last flight bodily and -headlong; he threw me down the middle flight. Following the last throw -he would not face up again, and I had won the fight. Afterwards the -woman came to her husband's aid. She scratched my face with her fingers -and tore at my hair, clawing like an angry cat. I did not like to strike -her back so I left her there with her drunken sailor and went out to the -streets. Having no money I slept until morning beside a capstan on -Glasgow quay. Next day I obtained lodgings in Moran's model, and I -stopped there until I went off to London eleven months afterwards. - -I did not find much pleasure in the company of my new railway mates. -They were a spineless and ignorant crowd of men, who believed in -clergycraft, psalm-singing, and hymn-hooting. Not one of them had the -pluck to raise his hands in a stand-up fight, or his voice in protest -against the conditions under which he laboured. Most of them raised -their caps to the overseers who controlled their starved bodies and to -the clergy who controlled their starved souls. They had no rational -doctrine, no comprehension of a just God. To them God took on the form -of a monstrous and irritable ganger who might be pacified by prayers -instead of by the usual dole of drink. - -Martin Rudor was the name of my new ganger. He was very religious and -belonged to the Railway Mission (whatever that is). He read tracts at -his work, which he handed round when he finished perusing them. These -contained little stories about the engine-driver who had taken the wrong -turning, or the signalman who operated the facing points on the running -line leading to hell. Martin took great pleasure in these stories, and -he was an earnest supporter of the psalm-singing enthusiasts who raised -a sound of devilry by night in the back streets of Glasgow. Martin said -once that I was employed on the permanent way that led to perdition. I -caught Martin by the scruff of the neck and rubbed his face on the slag. -He never thought it proper to look out my faults afterwards. Martin -ill-treated his wife, and she left him in the end. But he did not mind; -he took one of his female co-religionists to his bosom and kept her in -place of his legal wife, and seemed quite well pleased with the change. -Meanwhile he sang hymns in the street whenever he got two friends to -help and one to listen to him. - -What a difference between these men and my devil-may-care comrades of -Kinlochleven. I looked on Martin Rudor and his gang with inexpressible -contempt, and their talk of religion was a source of almost unendurable -torment. I also looked upon the missions with disgust. It is a paradox -to pretend that the thing called Christianity was what the Carpenter of -Galilee lived and died to establish. The Church allows a criminal -commercial system to continue, and wastes its time trying to save the -souls of the victims of that system. Christianity preaches contentment -to the wage-slaves, and hob-nobs with the slave drivers; therefore, the -Church is a betrayer of the people. The Church soothes those who are -robbed and never condemns the robber, who is usually a pillar of -Christianity. To me the Church presents something unattainable, which, -being out of harmony with my spiritual condition, jars rather than -soothes. To me the industrial system is a great fraud, and the Church -which does not condemn it is unfaithful and unjust to the working -people. I detest missions, whether organised for the betterment of South -Sea Islanders or unshaven navvies. A missionary canvasses the working -classes for their souls just in the same manner as a town councillor -canvasses them for their votes. - -I have heard of workers' missions, railway missions, navvies' missions, -and missions to poor heathens, but I have never yet heard of missions -for the uplifting of M.P.'s, or for the betterment of stock exchange -gamblers; and these people need saving grace a great deal more than the -poor untutored working men. But it is in the nature of things that piety -should preach to poverty on its shortcomings, and forget that even -wealth may have sins of its own. Clergymen dine nowadays with the -gamblers who rob the working classes; Christ used the lash on the -gamblers in the Temple. - -I heard no more of Norah Ryan. I longed to see her, and spent hours -wandering through the streets, hoping that I would meet her once again. -The old passion had come back to me; the atmosphere of the town -rekindled my desire, and, being a lonely man, in the midst of many men -and women, my heart was filled with a great longing for my sweetheart. -But the weary months went by and still there was no sign of Norah. - -When writing home I made enquiries about her, but my people said that -she had entirely disappeared; no Glenmornan man had seen Norah Ryan for -many years. My mother warned me to keep out of Norah's company if ever I -met her, for Norah was a bad woman. My mother was a Glenmornan woman, -and the Glenmornan women have no fellow-feeling for those who sin. - -Manual labour was now becoming irksome to me, and eight shillings a week -to myself at the end of six days' heavy labour was poor consolation for -the danger and worry of the long hours of toil. I did not care for -money, but I was afraid of meeting with an accident, when I might get -maimed and not killed. It would be an awful thing if a man like me got -deprived of the use of an arm or leg, and an accident might happen to me -any day. In the end I made up my mind that if I was to meet with an -accident I would take my own life, and henceforth I looked at the future -with stoical calm. - -I have said before that I am very strong. There was no man on the -railway line who could equal me at lifting rails or loading ballast -waggons. I had great ambitions to become a wrestler and go on the stage. -No workman on the permanent way could rival me in a test of strength. -Wrestling appealed to me, and I threw the stoutest of my opponents in -less than three minutes. I started to train seriously, bought books on -physical improvement, and spent twelve shillings and sixpence on a pair -of dumb-bells. During meal hours I persuaded my mates to wrestle with -me. Wet weather or dry, it did not matter! We went at it shoulder and -elbows in the muddy fields and alongside the railway track. We threw one -another across point-rods and signal bars until we bled and sweated at -our work. I usually took on two men at a time and never got beaten. For -whole long months I was a complete mass of bruises, my skin was torn -from my arms, my clothes were dragged to ribbons, and my bones ached so -much that I could hardly sleep at night owing to the pain. I attended -contests in the music-halls, eager to learn tips from the professionals -who had acquired fame in the sporting world. - -The shunter of our ballast train was a heavy-shouldered man, and he had -a bad temper and an unhappy knack of lifting his fists to those who were -afraid of him. He was a strong rung of a man, and he boasted about the -number of fights in which he had taken part. He was also a lusty liar -and an irrepressible swearer. Nearly everyone in the job was afraid of -him, and to the tune of a wonderful vocabulary of unprintable words he -bullied all Martin Rudor's men into abject submission. But that was an -easy task. He felt certain that every man on the permanent way feared -him, and maybe that was why he called me an Irish cur one evening. We -were shovelling ashes from the ballast waggons on one line into the -four-foot way of the other, and the shunter stood on the foot-board of -the break-van two truck lengths away from me. I threw my shovel down, -stepped across the waggons, and taking hold of the fellow by the neck -and waist I pulled him over the rim of the vehicle and threw him -headlong down the railway slope. I broke his coupling pole over my knee, -and threw the pieces at his head. The breaking of the coupling pole -impressed the man very much. Few can break one over their knees. When -the shunter came to the top of the slope again, he was glad to apologise -to me, and thus save himself further abuse. - -That evening, when coming in from my work, I saw a printed announcement -stating that a well-known Japanese wrestler was offering ten pounds to -any man whom he could not overcome in less than five minutes in a -ju-jitsu contest. He was appearing in a hall on the south side of the -city, and he was well-known as an exponent of the athletic art. - -I went to the hall that evening, hoping to earn the ten pounds. The -shunter was four stone heavier than I was, yet I overcame him easily, -and the victory caused me to place great reliance on myself. - -I took a threepenny seat in the gallery, and waited breathless for the -coming of the wrestler. Several artists appeared, were applauded or -hissed, then went off the stage, but I took very little heed of their -performances. All my thoughts were centred on the pose which I would -assume when rising to accept the challenge. - -Sitting next to me was a fat foreigner, probably a seller of -fish-suppers or ice-cream. I wondered what he would think of me when he -saw me rise to my feet and accept the challenge. What would the girl who -sat on the other side of me think? She kept eating oranges all the -evening, and giggling loudly at every indecent joke made by the actors. -She was somewhat the worse for liquor, and her language was far from -choice. She was very pretty and knew it. A half-dressed woman sang a -song, every stanza of which ended with a lewd chorus. The girl beside me -joined in the song and clapped her hands boisterously when the artiste -left the stage. - -The wrestler was the star turn of the evening, and his exhibition was -numbered two on the programme. When the number went up my heart -fluttered madly, and I felt a great difficulty in drawing my breath. - -The curtain rose slowly. A man in evening dress, bearing a folded paper -in his hand, came out to the front of the stage. One of the audience -near me applauded with his hands. - -"That's nae a wrestler, you fool!" someone shouted. "You dinna ken what -you're clappin' about." - -"Silence!" - -The audience took up the word and all shouted silence, until the din was -deafening. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," began the figure on the stage, when the noise -abated. - -Everyone applauded again. Even the girl beside me blurted out "Hear! -hear!" through a mouthful of orange juice. Those who pay threepence for -their seats love to be called ladies and gentlemen. - -"Ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure in introducin' U---- Y----, -the well-known exponent of the art of ju-jitsu." - -A little dark man with very bright eyes stepped briskly on the stage, -and bowed to the audience, then folded his arms over his breast and -gazed into vacancy with an air of boredom. He wore a heavy overcoat -which lay open at the neck and exposed his chest muscles to the gaping -throng. - -"Everybody here has heard of U---- Y----, no doubt." The evening dress -was speaking again. "He is well known in America, in England, and on the -continent. At the present time he is the undefeated champion of his -weight in all the world. He is now prepared to hand over the sum of ten -pounds to any man in the audience who can stand against him for five -minutes. Is there any gentleman in the audience prepared to accept the -challenge?" - -"I could wrestle him mysel'," said the girl of the orange-scented breath -in a whisper. Apart from that there was silence. - -"Is any man in the audience prepared to accept the offer and earn the -sum of ten pounds?" repeated the man on the stage. - -"I am." - -Somehow I had risen to my feet, and my words came out spasmodically. -Everyone in front turned round and stared at me. My seat-mate clapped -her hands, and the audience followed her example. - -There is no need to give an account of the contest. Suffice to say that -I did not collar the ten-pound note, and that I had not the ghost of a -chance in the match. It only lasted for forty-seven seconds. The crowd -hissed me off the stage, and I got hurriedly into the street when I -regained my coat in the dressing-room. I went out into the night, sick -at heart, a defeated man, with another of my illusions dashed to pieces. -I took no interest in wrestling afterwards. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -A SWEETHEART OF MINE - - "She learned the pitiful story, that they must suffer who live, - While selling her soul in the gutters for all that the gutters - give." - - --From _Lost Souls_. - - -There was a cold air running along the street when I stepped into the -open and took my way along the town to Moran's model where I lodged. I -felt disappointed, vexed, and ashamed of my ludicrous exhibition on the -stage. Forty-seven seconds! As I walked along I could hear the referee -repeating the words over and over again. Forty-seven seconds! I was both -angry and ashamed, angry at my own weakness, and ashamed of the -presumption which urged me to attack a professional athlete. I walked -quickly, trying to drive all memories of the night from my mind. - -The hour of midnight rang out, and the streets were almost deserted. -Here and there a few night-prowlers stole out from some gloomy alley and -hurried along, bent, no doubt, upon some fell mission which could only -be carried through under cover of the darkness. Once a belated drunken -man swayed in front of me, and asked for a match to light his pipe. I -had none to give him, and he cursed me as I passed on. I met a few women -on the streets, young girls whose cheeks were very red, and whose eyes -were very bright. This was the hour when these, our little sisters, -carry on the trade which means life to their bodies and death to their -souls. It is so easy to recognise them! Their eyes sparkle brightly in -the lamplight; they speak light and trivial words to the men whom they -meet, and ever they hold their skirts lifted well over their ankles so -that those whom they meet may know of the goods which they sell. The -sisters of the street barter their chastity for little pieces of silver, -and from them money can purchase the rightful heritage of love. - -These, like navvies, are outcasts and waifs of society. They are -despised by those who hide imperfections under the mask of decency, men -and women who are so conscious of their own shortcomings that they make -up for them by censuring those of others. - -White slavery is now the term used in denoting these girls' particular -kind of slavery. But, bad as it is, it is chosen by many women in -preference to the slavery of the mill and the needle. As I write this, -there are many noble ladies, famed for having founded several societies -for the suppression of evils that never existed, who believe that the -solution of the white slave problem can only be arrived at by flogging -men who live on the immoral earnings of women. This solution if extended -might meet the case. In all justice the lash should be laid on the backs -of the employers who pay starvation wages, and the masters who fatten on -sweated labour. The slavery of the shop and the mill is responsible for -the shame of the street. - -A girl came out from the shadow of a doorway, and walked along the -street in front of me, her head held down against the cutting breeze. -Sometimes she spoke words to the men who passed her, but all went on -unheeding. Only to those who were well-dressed and prosperous-looking -did she speak. - -I thought of my own sisters away home in Ireland, and here, but for the -grace of God, went one of them. At that moment I felt sick of life and -sorry for civilisation and all its sin. - -I detected something familiar in the figure of the woman before me. -Perhaps I had met the woman before. I overtook her, and when passing -looked at her closely. - -"Under God, the day and the night, it's Dermod Flynn that's in it!" she -cried in a frightened voice. - -I was looking at Norah Ryan. Just for a moment she was far from my -thoughts, and my mind was busy with other things. I had almost lost all -hopes of meeting her, and thought that she was dead or gone to a strange -country. - -"Is this you, Norah?" I asked, coming to a standstill, and putting out -the hand of welcome to her. - -She seemed taken aback, and placed her hand timorously in mine. Her -cheeks were very red and her brow was as white as snow. She had hardly -changed in features since I had last seen her, years before. Now her -hair was hidden under a large hat; long ago it hung down in brown waving -tresses over her shoulders. The half-timid look was still in the grey -eyes of her, and Norah Ryan was very much the same girl who had been my -sweetheart of old. Only, now she had sinned and her shame of all shames -was the hardest to bear. - -"Is it ye, yerself, that's in it, Dermod Flynn?" she asked, as if not -believing the evidence of her own eyes. - -In her voice there was a great weariness, and at that moment the sound -of the waters falling over the high rocks of Glenmornan were ringing in -my ears. Also I thought of an early delicate flower which I had once -found killed by the cold snows on the high uplands of Danaveen, ere yet -the second warmth of the spring had come to gladden the bare hills of -Donegal. In those days, being a little child, I felt sorry for the -flower that died so soon. - -"I didn't expect to meet ye here," said Norah. "Have ye been away back -and home since I saw ye last?" - -"I have never been at home since," I answered. "Have you?" - -"Me go home!" she replied. "What would I be doin' goin' home now with -the black mark of shame over me? Do ye think that I'd darken me mother's -door with the sin that's on me heavy, on me soul? Sometimes I'm thinkin' -long, but I never let on to anyone, and it's meself that would like to -see the old place again. It's a good lot I'd give to see the grey boats -of Dooey goin' out again beyont Trienna Bar in the grey duskus of the -harvest evenin'! Do ye mind the time ye were at school, Dermod, and the -way ye hit the master with the pointer?" - -"I mind it well," I answered. "You said that he was dead when he dropped -on the form." - -"And do ye mind the day that ye went over beyont the mountains with yer -bundle under yer arm? I met ye on the road and ye said that ye were -never comin' back." - -"You did not care whether I returned or not," I said resentfully, unable -to account for my mood of the moment. "You did not even stop to bid me -good-bye." - -"I was frightened of ye." - -"Why were you frightened?" - -"I don't know." - -"But you did not even turn and look after me," I said. - -"That was because I knew that ye, yerself, was lookin' behind." - -"Do you remember the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked. - -"Quite well do I mind it, Dermod," she replied. "I often be thinkin' of -them days, I do, indeed." - -She was looking at me with wistful and pathetic eyes, and the street -lamp beside us shone full on her face. There was a long interval of -silence, and I did not know what to say next. Many a time had I thought -of our next meeting, and my head was usually teeming with the words of -welcome which I would say to her. But now I was almost at a loss for one -single word. The situation was strained, and she showed signs of taking -her departure. - -"Where are you going at this hour of the night, Norah?" I asked -impulsively. - -"I'm goin' for a walk." - -"Where are you working?" - -Well did I know her work, but I could not resist asking her the -question. The next moment I was sorry for my words. Norah's face became -white, she stammered a few words about being a servant in a gentleman's -house, then suddenly burst into tears. - -"Don't cry," I said in a lame sort of manner. "What's wrong?" - -She kept her eyes fixed on the pavement, and did not answer. I could see -her bosom heaving, and hear the low sobs that she tried vainly to -suppress. We stood there for nearly five minutes without a word. Then -she held out her hand. - -"Slan agiv,[12] Dermod," she said. "I must be goin'. It was good of ye -to speak to me in that nice way of yers, Dermod." - -The hand which she placed in mine was limp and cold. I struggled to find -words to express my feelings at the moment, but my tongue was tied, and -my mind was teeming with thoughts which I could not express. She drew -her hand softly from mine and walked back the way she had come. - -I stood there nonplussed, feeling conscious of some great wrong in -allowing that grey-eyed Irish girl to wander alone through the naked -streets of Glasgow. For years I had recognised the evils of -prostitution, but never had those evils come home so sharply to me as -they did at that moment. Despite my cynical views on love I had always -a feeling deeper than friendship for Norah Ryan, and at times when I -tried to analyse this feeling I found that it was not love; it was -something more constant, less rash and less wavering. It was not subject -to changes or stints, it was a hold-fast, the grip of which never -lessened. - -It was a love without any corporal end; its greatest desire did not turn -to the illusive delights of the marriage bed. My love had none of the -hunger of lust; it was not an appetite which might be satiated--it was -something far holier and more enduring. To me Norah represented a -poetical ideal; she was a saint, the angel of my dreams. Never for a -moment did I think of winning her love merely for the purpose of -condemning her to a hell of bearing me children. In all our poetry and -music of love we delight merely in the soft glance of eyes, the warm -touch of lips, the soft feel of a maiden's breast and the flutter of one -heart beating against another. But all love of women leads to passion, -and poetry or music cannot follow beyond a certain boundary. There -poetry dies, music falters, and the mark of the beast is over man in the -moments of his desire. But my love for Norah was different. To me she -represented a youthful ideal which was too beautiful and pure to be -degraded by anything in the world. - -Norah had given her love to another. Who was I that I should blame her? -In her love she was helpless, for love is not the result of effort. It -cannot be stopped; its course cannot be stayed. As well ask the soft -spring meadows to prevent the rising freshet from wetting the green -grass, as ask a maiden to stem the torrent of the love which overwhelms -her. Love is not acquired; it is not a servant. It comes and is master. - -Norah's sufferings were due to her innocence. She was betrayed when yet -a child, and a child is easily led astray. But to me she was still -pure, and I knew that there was no stain on the soul of her. - -For a long while I stood looking after her and turning thoughts over in -my mind. In the far distance I could see her stealing along the pavement -like a frightened child who is afraid of the shadows. I turned and -followed her, keeping well in the gloom of the houses which lined the -pavement. She passed through many streets, stopping now and again to -speak to the men whom she met on her journey. Never once did she look -back. At the corner of Sauciehall Street, a well-dressed and -half-intoxicated man stopped and spoke to her. For a few seconds they -conversed; then the man linked his arm in hers and the two of them -walked off together. - -I stood at the street corner, unable to move or act, and almost unable -to think. A blind rage welled up in my heart against the social system -that compelled women to seek a livelihood by pandering to the impurity -of men. Norah had come to Scotland holy and pure, and eager to earn the -rent of her mother's croft. She had earned many rents for the landlord -who had caused me sufferings in Mid-Tyrone and who was responsible for -the death of my brother Dan. To the same landlord Norah had given her -soul and her purity. The young girls of Donegal come radiantly innocent -from their own glens and mountains, but often, alas! they fall into sin -in a far country. It is unholy to expect all that is good and best from -the young girls who lodge with the beasts of the byre and swine of the -sty. I felt angry with the social system which was responsible for such -a state of affairs, but my anger was thrown away; it was a monstrous -futility. The social system is not like a person; one man's anger cannot -remedy it, one man's fist cannot strike at its iniquities. - -Norah had now disappeared, and with my brain afire I followed her round -the turn of the street. What I intended to do was even a riddle to -myself. When I overtook them the man who accompanied Norah would bear -the impress of my knuckles for many days. Only of this was I certain. I -turned into several streets and searched until three o'clock in the -morning. But she had gone out of my sight once again. Then I went home -to bed, but not to sleep. - -Sick at heart and a prey to remorse, I prowled through the streets for -many nights afterwards, looking for Norah. I did not meet her again, and -only too late did I realise the opportunity which I had let slip when I -met her at midnight in the city. But meeting her as I had met her on the -streets, I found myself faced with a new problem, which for a moment -overwhelmed and snapped the springs of action within me. In Glenmornan -Norah would now be known as "that woman," and the Glenmornan pride makes -a man much superior to women who make the great mistake of life. Thank -goodness! the Glenmornan pride was almost dead within my heart. I -thought that I had killed it years before, but there, on the streets of -Glasgow, I found that part of it was remaining when I met with Norah -Ryan. It rose in rebellion when I spoke to the girl who had sinned, it -checked the impulse of my heart for just a moment, and in that moment -she whom I loved had passed out of my sight and perhaps out of my life. - -Life on the railway, always monotonous, became now dreary and dragging. -Day and night my thoughts were turning to her whom I loved, and my heart -went out to the girl who was suffering in a lonely town because she -loved too well. I was now almost a prey to despair, and in order to -divert my mind somewhat from the thoughts that embittered my life I -began to write for the papers again. - -Ideas came to me while at work, and these I scribbled down on scraps of -paper when the old psalm-singing ganger was not watching me. When I got -back to Moran's in the evening I worked the ideas into prose or verse -which I sent out to various papers. Many of my verses appeared in a -Glasgow paper, and I got paid at the rate of three-and-sixpence a poem. -Later on I wrote for London weeklies, and these paid me better for my -work. Some editors wrote very nice letters to me, others sent my stuff -back, explaining that lack of space prevented them from publishing it. I -often wondered why they did not speak the truth. A navvy who generally -speaks the truth finds it difficult to distinguish the line of -demarcation which runs between falsehood and politeness. Most of my -spare evenings I gave up to writing, but often I found myself out in the -street where I had met Norah Ryan, and sometimes I wandered there until -four o'clock in the morning, but never once set eyes on her. - -A literary frenzy took possession of me for a while. I bought -second-hand books on every subject, and studied all things from the -infinitely great to the infinitesimally little. Microbes and mammoths, -atoms and solar systems--I learned a little of all and everything of -none. I wrote, not for the love of writing as much as to drown my own -introspective humours, but in no external thing was I interested enough -to forget my own thoughts. - -I studied literary style, and but for that I might have by this time -cultivated a style of my own; I read so much that now I have hardly an -original idea left. Only lately have I come to the conclusion that true -art, the only true art, is that which appeals to the simple people. When -writing this book I have been governed by this conclusion, and have -endeavoured to tell of things which all people may understand. - -Most of my articles and stories came back with the precision of -boomerangs, weapons of which I have heard much talk, and which are said -to come back to the hand of the man who throws them away; some were -published and never paid for, and some never came back at all. - -Suddenly it occurred to me that editors might like to publish articles -on subjects which were seldom written about. I wrote about the navvies' -lives again; the hopes and sorrows and aspirations of the men of the -hovel, model, and road. Several papers took my articles, and for a while -I drew in a decent penny for my literary work. Indeed, I had serious -intentions of giving up manual labour and taking to the pen for good. -Some of my stories again appeared in the _Dawn_, the London daily paper -which had published my Kinlochleven stories, and on one fine morning I -received a letter from the editor asking me to come and take a job on -the staff of his paper. He offered me two pounds a week as salary, and -added that I was certain to attain eminence in the position which was -now open to me. I decided to go, not because I had any great desire for -the job, but because I wanted to get rid of old Rudor and his gang, and -I also wanted to see London. Being wise enough to throw most of the -responsibility on the person who suggested such a change in my life and -work, I answered the editor, saying that though I was a writer among -navvies I might merely be a navvy among writers, and that journalistic -work was somewhat out of my line. Still the editor persisted and -enclosed the cost of my railway fare to London. To go I was not -reluctant, to leave I was not eager. I accepted because the change -promised new adventures, but there was no excitement in my heart, for -now I took things almost as they came, unmoved and uncaring. Norah had -gone out of my life, which, full of sorrow for losing her, was empty -without her. The enthusiasm which once winged my way along the leading -road to Strabane was now dead within me. - -I washed the dirt of honest work from my hands and face, and the whole -result of seven years' hard labour was dissipated in the wash-tub. Then -I went out and bought two ready-made suits and several articles of -attire which I felt would be necessary for my new situation. I packed -these up, and with my little handbag for company I went out from Moran's -model by Glasgow wharf, and caught the night express for London. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[12] Good-bye; literally, "Health be with you." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -UNSKILLED LABOUR OF A NEW KIND - - "A newspaper is as untruthful as an epitaph." - - --BARWELL. - - -I had never seen an omnibus. I did not know that it was necessary to -take off my hat when entering a dwelling. I had never used a fork when -eating. I had never been introduced to a lady; to me the approved form -of introduction was a mystery. My boots had not been blackened for -years. I wore my first collar when setting out for London. It nearly -choked me. Since leaving Glenmornan I had rarely been inside an ordinary -dwelling house. Most of the time I had lived under God's sky, the roof -of a byre, and the tarred wooden covering of the navvies' shack at -Kinlochleven. I had, it is true, seen the inside of a drawing-room and a -dining-room--through the window. I lacked knowledge of most of the -things which most people know and which really do not matter. I went to -London a greenhorn gloriously green. - -Outside Euston station I asked a man the way to Fleet Street. He -inquired if I was going to walk or take an omnibus. Omnibus! I had never -heard of an omnibus; he might have asked me if I intended to ride on a -pterodactyl! I said that I was going to walk, and the stranger gave me -several hints as to the direction which I should follow. Even if I had -understood what he was saying, I am certain that I could not have -remembered the directions. When he finished, he asked me for the price -of his breakfast. This I understood, and gave him threepence, which -pleased the man mightily. - -It was funny that the first man accosted by me in London should ask for -the price of a meal. The prospects of making a fortune looked poor at -the moment. - -I walked to Fleet Street, making inquiries from policemen on the way. -This was safest, and I hadn't to pay for a meal when my questions were -answered. By ten o'clock I found myself at the office of the _Dawn_, and -there I met the editor. - -The editor was a Frenchman, short of stature and breath. His figure was -ridiculously rotund, and his little legs were so straight that they -looked as if they were jointless. He would not have made much of a show -on a ten-hour shift in the cutting of Kinlochleven, and though Fleet -Street knows that he is one of the ablest editors in London I had not -much respect for the man when I first saw him. He was busily engaged in -looking through sheets of flimsy when I entered, and for a few minutes -he did not take much notice of me. He called me Pim, asked me several -questions about the navvies, my politics and writings. He looked annoyed -when I said I was a socialist. - -"A writer among navvies, and a navvy among writers; is that it?" asked -the news-editor when I entered his office, a stuffy little place full of -tobacco smoke. "You see that we have heard of you here. Going to try -your hand at journalism now, are you? Feeling healthy and fit?" - -He plied me with several questions relating to my past life, took no -heed of my answers and, fumbling amongst a pile of papers, he drew out a -type-written slip. - -"I have a story for you," he said. "A fire broke out early this morning -in a warehouse in Holborn. Go out and get all the facts relating to it -and work the whole affair up well. If you do not know where Holborn is, -make enquiries." - -I met a third man, a young, clean-shaven, alert youth, in the passage -outside the news-editor's door. - -"Are you Flynn?" he asked, and when I answered in the affirmative he -shook hands with me. "My name is Barwell," he continued. "I am a -journalist like yourself. What the devil caused you to come here?" - -I had no excuses to offer. - -"You might have stayed where you were," said Barwell. "You'll find that -a navvies' office is much better than a newspaper office. Have you had -lunch?" - -"No," I answered. It was now nearly one o'clock, but I had not had -breakfast yet. I had never been inside a restaurant in my life, and the -daintily-dressed waitresses and top-hatted feeders deterred me from -entering that morning. I might have done something unbecoming and -stupid, and in a strange place I am sensitive and shy. - -"Come along then. We'll go out together and feed." - -We entered a restaurant in the Strand, and my friend ordered lunch for -two. During the course of the meal I suffered intense mental agony. The -fork was a problem, the serviette a mystery, and I felt certain that -everybody in the place was looking at me. - -"The news-editor has asked me to write an account of a fire in Holborn," -I said to Barwell when we had eaten, "Do you know where Holborn is?" - -"The whole account of the fire is given in the evening papers," said -Barwell. "Therefore you do not require to go near the place." - -"You mean----" - -"Exactly what you are going to say," said the young man looking at the -copy of the evening paper which he had bought at the door when entering. -"You can write your story now and get the facts from this. Have you a -pencil and notebook?" - -"No." - -"If you are going to take up journalism they are the initial and -principal requirements. Beyond a little tact and plenty of cheek you -require nothing else. A conscience and a love of truth are great -drawbacks. Are you ready?" - -He handed me a pencil and notebook. - -"Now begin. The opening sentence must be crisp and startling; and never -end your sentences with prepositions." - -"But I know nothing about the fire," I expostulated. - -"Oh! I've forgotten." He picked up the paper which he had -absent-mindedly kicked under the table. "Now you are all right. Get your -facts from this rag, but write the story in your own way. You'll find -this good training if ever you've got to weave out lies of your own. -Meanwhile I've three or four novels to review." - -As he spoke he opened a parcel which he had brought along with him, and -took out several books which he regarded critically for a moment. - -"Are they worth reading?" I asked. - -"I do not know." - -"You do not know and you're going to review them!" - -"It's bad policy to read a book before you review it," he answered. "It -is apt to give rise to prejudice. This volume," taking up one in his -hand as he spoke, "_The Woman who Fell_, is written by a personal friend -of the editor. I must review it favourably. This one, _In the Teeth of -the Tempest_, is written by a strong supporter of the Liberal -Government. The _Dawn_ is tory, the author is liberal, therefore his -work must be slated. See?" - -"But your own opinion----" - -"What the devil do I need with an opinion of my own?" - -Thereupon Barwell reviewed the books which he had not read and I muddled -through an account of the fire which I had not seen, and when we had -finished we took our way into the street again. - -Although it was barely past three o'clock, the early December night had -now fallen. Fleet Street was a blaze of light and a medley of taxi-cabs -and omnibuses. Except for the down-at-heel mendicant, and the women who -had more paint than modesty, everybody was in a great hurry. - -"What do you think of it all, Flynn?" asked Barwell suddenly. "Isn't it -a great change from your past life? London! there's no place like it in -all the world! Light loves and light ladies, passion without soul, -enjoyment without stint, and sin without scandal or compunction." - -"Only those with some idea of virtue can sin with compunction," I said. -This thought came to me suddenly, and Barwell looked surprised at my -words. - -"By Jove! that's so," he answered, scribbling my remark down on his -notebook. "Well, what is your opinion of London, all that you have seen -of it?" - -"What the devil do I want with an opinion?" I asked, quoting his own -words. - -"Quite so; but we are now speaking in a confidential, not in a -journalistic sense. Do you not think that it is a heavenly privilege to -be allowed to write lies for a kingdom of fools within ninety-eight -million miles of the sun? You'll fall in love with London directly, old -man, for it is the centre of the universe. The world radiates outwards -from Charing Cross and revolves around the Nelson column. London is the -world, journalism is the midden of creation." - -"Do you really think that men are acting in a straightforward manner by -writing unfair and untruthful articles for the public?" I asked. - -"The public is a crowd of asses and you must interest it. You are paid -to interest it with plausible lies or unsavoury truths. An unsavoury -truth is always palatable to those whom it does not harm. Our readers -gloat over scandal, revel in scandal, and pay us for writing it. Learn -what the public requires and give it that. Think one thing in the -morning and another at night; preach what is suitable to the mob and -study the principle of the paper for which you write. That's how you -have to do it, Flynn. A paper's principle is a very subtle thing, and it -must be studied. Every measure passed in Parliament affects it, it -oscillates to the breezes of public opinion and it is very intangible. -The principle of a daily paper is elusive, old man, damned elusive. Come -in and have a whisky and soda." - -"Not elusive but changeable, I suppose," I said, alluding to his -penultimate remark as we stood at the bar of the wine shop. "The -principles of the _Dawn_ are rather consistent, are they not?" - -"The principles oscillate, old man. Your health, and may you live until -newspapers are trustworthy! Consistent, eh? Some day you'll learn of the -inconsistencies of Fleet Street, Flynn. Here the Jew is an advocate of -Christianity, the American of Protection, the poet a compiler of -statistics, the penny-a-liner a defender of the idle rich, and the -reporter with anarchistic ideas a defender of social law and order. Here -charlatans, false as they are clever, play games in which the pawns are -religion and atheism, and make, as suits their purpose, material -advantages of the former or a religion of the latter. Fleet Street is -the home of chicanery, of fraud, of versatile vices and unnumbered sins. -It is an outcome of the civilisation which it rules, a framer of the -laws which it afterwards destroys or protects at caprice; without -conscience or soul it dominates the world. Only in its falseness is it -consistent. Truth is further removed from its jostling rookeries than -the first painted savage who stoned the wild boar in the sterile wastes -of Ludgate Circus." - -Barwell's gestures were as astonishing as his eloquence. One hand -clutched the lapel of his coat; in the other he held the glass of liquor -which he shook violently when reaching the zenith of his harangue. The -whisky splashed and sparkled and kept spurting over the rim of the glass -until most of the contents were emptied on the floor. He hardly drank a -quarter of the liquor. We went out, and once in the street he continued -his vehement utterances. - -"Take the _Dawn_ for example," he said. "The editor is a Frenchman, the -leader-writer a German, the American special correspondent an Irishman -who came to England on a cattle boat and who has never ventured on the -sea since. The _Dawn_ advocates Tariff Reform, and most of the reporters -are socialists. The leader-writer points out the danger of a German -menace daily. What influences one of the Kaiser's subjects to sit down -and, for the special benefit of the British nation, write a thrilling -warning against the German menace? Salary or conscience, eh? The _Dawn_ -knows the opinions of Germany before Germany has formed an opinion, and -gives particulars of the grave situation in the Far East before the -chimerical situation has evolved from its embryological stages. -Consistent, my dear fellow? It is only consistent in its -inconsistencies. The reviewers seldom read the books which they review -in its pages, and the quack suffers from the ills which through its -columns he professes to cure. The bald man who sells a wonderful hair -restorer, the cripple who can help the lame, and the anæmic pill-maker -who professes ability to cure any disease, all advertise in the _Dawn_. -A newspaper is as untruthful as an epitaph, Flynn." - -"If you dislike the work so much why do you remain on the staff?" I -asked. - -"I do not dislike it. Being by nature a literary Philistine and vagabond -journalist, I love the work. Anyhow, there is nothing else which I can -do. If I happened to be placed on a square acre of earth fresh from the -hands of the Creator, and given a spade and shovel to work with, what -use could I make of those tools of labour? I could not earn my living -with a spade and shovel. It was for the like of us that London and -journalism were created." - -For a while I was very much out of my place at my quarters in -Bloomsbury, for it was in that locality that I obtained rooms along with -Barwell. Everything in the place was a fresh experience to me; at the -dinner-table I did not know the names of the dishes. The table napkins -were problems which were new to me, and the frilled and collared -maid-servant was a phenomena, disconcerting and unavoidable. - -I who had cooked my own chops for the best part of seven years, I who -had dined in moleskin and rags for such a long while, felt the handicap -of dining inside four walls, hemmed with restraint, and almost choked -with the horrible starched abomination which decency decreed that I -should wear around my neck. It was very wearisome. Barwell was utterly -careless and outraged custom with impunity, but I, who feared to do the -wrong thing, always remained on the tenter-hooks of suspense. Barwell -knew what should be done and seldom did it, while I, who was only -learning the very rudimentary affectations of civilised society, took -care to follow out the most stringent commands of etiquette whenever I -became aware of those commands. - -At the office of the _Dawn_ I was reticent and backward. I lacked the -cleverness, the smartness and readiness of expression with which other -members of the staff were gifted. I had come into a new world, utterly -foreign to me, and often I longed to be back again with Moleskin Joe on -some long road leading to nowhere. - -For a while my stories were not successful, although I made a point of -seeing the things of which I wrote. I came back to the office every -evening full of my subject, whether a florist's exhibition, a cat show, -or a police court case, and sat down seriously to write my story. When -half-written I tore it up seriously and began again. When satisfied with -the whole completed account I took it to the sub-editor, who read it -seriously and seriously threw it into the waste-paper basket. At the end -of the first week I found that only two articles of mine had appeared in -the _Dawn_. I had written eight. - -"You write in too serious a vein for a modern paper," said the -sub-editor. - -When the spring came round I could feel, even in Fleet Street, the spell -of the old roving days come over me; those days when Moleskin and I -tramped along the roads of Scotland, thanking God for the little scraps -of tobacco which we found in our pockets, while wondering where the next -pipeful could be obtained! My heart went out to the old mates and the -old places. I had a longing for the little fire in the darkness, the -smell of the wet earth, the first glimpse of the bend in the road, and -the dream about the world of mystery lying round the corner. When I went -across Blackfriars Bridge, or along the Strand, on a cold, bracing -morning, I wanted to walk on ever so far, away--away. Where to--it -didn't matter. The office choked me, smothered me; it felt so like a -prison. I wanted to be with Moleskin Joe, and often I asked myself, -"Where is he now? what is my old comrade doing at this moment? Is the -old vagabond still happy in his wanderings and his hopes of a good time -coming, or has he finished up his last shift and handed in his final -check for good and all?" Often I longed to see him again and travel with -him to new and strange places. - -Of my salary, now three pounds a week, I sent a guinea home to my own -people every Saturday. Of course, now, getting so much, they wanted -more. Journalism to them implied some hazy kind of work where money was -stint-less and to be had for the asking. My other brothers were going -out into the world now, and my eldest sister had gone to America. "I -wish that I could keep _them_ at home," wrote my mother. "_You_ are so -long away now that we do not miss you." - -"Will you go down to Cyfladd, Flynn, and write some 'stories' about the -coal strike?" asked the news editor one morning. "I think that you have -a natural bent for these labour affairs. Your navvy stories were -undoubtedly good, and even a spicy bit of socialism added to their -charm." - -"Spicy bit of socialism, indeed!" broke in the irrepressible Barwell. -"The day will come when the working men of England shall invade London -and decorate Fleet Street with the gibbeted bodies of hireling editors. -Have you a cigarette to spare, Manwell?" - -"You go down to Cyfladd, Flynn," said the news editor, handing his -cigarette-case to Barwell. "See what is doing there and write up good -human stories dealing with the discontent of the workers. Do not be -afraid to state things bluntly. Tell about their drinking and -quarrelling, and if you come across miners who are in good circumstance -don't fail to write about it." - -"But suppose for a moment that he comes across men who are really poor, -men who may not have had enough wages to make both ends meet, what is he -to do?" asked loquacious Barwell, the socialistic Philistine, who played -with ideas for the mere sake of the ideas. "For myself, I do not believe -in the right to strike, and I admire the man who starves to death -without making a fuss. Why should uncultured and uneducated miners -create a fuss if they are starved to death in order to satisfy the needs -of honourable and learned gentlemen? What right has a common worker to -ask for higher wages? What right has he to take a wife and bring up -children? The children of the poor should be fattened and served up on -the tables of the rich, as advocated by Dean Swift in an age prior to -the existence of the _Dawn_. The children of the poor who cannot become -workers become wastrels; the rich wastrels wear eye-glasses and spats. -We have no place in the scheme of things for the wastrels who wear -neither eye-glasses nor spats, therefore I believe that it would be good -for the nation if many of the children of the poor were fattened, -killed, and eaten. But I am wandering from the point. Let us look at the -highly improbable supposition of which I have spoken. It is highly -improbable, of course, that there are poor people amongst the miners, -for they have little time to spend the money which they take so long to -earn. Now and again they die, leaving a week's wages lying at the -pay-office. I have heard of cases like that several times. These men, -who are out on strike, may leave a whole week's pay to their wives and -children when they die, and for all that they grumble and go out on -strike! But we cannot expect anything else from uneducated workmen. I am -wandering from the point again, and the point is this: Suppose, for an -instant, that Flynn doesn't find a rich, quarrelsome, and drunken miner -in Cyfladd, what is he to do? Return again?" - -"You're a fool, Barwell!" said the news editor. - -"Manwell, you're a confirmed fool," Barwell replied. - -I put on my coat and hat, stuffed my gloves, which I hated, into my -pocket, and went out into the street. The morning was dry and cold, the -air was exhilarating and good to breathe. I gulped it down in mighty -mouthfuls. It was good to be in the open street and feel the little -winds whipping by in mad haste. Up in the office, steaming with -cigarette smoke, it was so stuffy, so dead. Everything there was so -artificial, so unreal, and I was altogether out of sympathy with all the -individuals on the _Dawn_. "Do I like the _Dawn_?" I asked myself. I -wanted to face things frankly at that moment. "Do I like journalism, or -merely feel that I should like it?" But I made no effort to answer the -question; it was not very important, and now I was walking hurriedly, -trying to keep myself warm. Two things occurred to me at the same -instant: I was short of money and I had not asked for my railway fare to -Wales at the office. Where did the train start from? Was it Euston? I -did not exactly know, and somehow it didn't seem to matter. - -I would not go to Wales; I did not want to analyse my reasons for not -going, but I was determined not to go. I felt that in going I would be -betraying my own class, the workers. Moleskin Joe would never dream of -doing a thing like that; why should I? I must make some excuse at the -office, I thought, but asked myself the next instant why should I make -any excuses? Besides, the office was like a prison; it choked me. I -wanted to leave, but somehow felt that I ought not. - -I found myself going along Gray's Inn Road towards my lodging-house. A -girl opened a window and looked at me with a vacant stare. She was -speaking to somebody in the room behind her and her voice trailed before -me like a thin mist. She somewhat resembled Norah Ryan: the same white -brow, the red lips, only that this girl had a sorrowful look in her -eyes, as if too many weary thoughts had found expression there. - -How often during the last four months had I thought of Norah Ryan. I -longed for her with a mighty longing, and now that she was alone and in -great trouble it was my duty to help her. I felt angry with myself for -going up to London when I should have followed up my holier mission in -Glasgow. What was fortune and fame to me if I did not make the girl whom -I really loved happy? Daily it became clearer to me that I was earnestly -and madly in love with Norah. We were meant for one another from -childhood, although destiny played against us for a while. I would find -her again and we would be happy, very happy, together, and the past -would be blotted out in the great happiness which would be ours in the -future. To me Norah was always pure and always good. In her I saw no -wrong, no sin, and no evil. I would look for her until I found her, and -finding her would do my best to make her happy. - -The girl closed the window as I passed. I came to my lodgings, paid the -landlady, and wrote to the Dawn saying that I was leaving London. I -intended to tramp to the north, but a story of mine had just been -published in ---- and the money came to hand while I was settling with -the landlady. - -I learned later that Barwell went down to Wales. That night I set off by -rail for Glasgow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -THE SEARCH - - "When I go back to the old pals, - 'Tis a glad, glad boy I'll be; - With them will I share the doss-house bunk - And join their revels with glee, - And the lean men of the lone shacks - Will share their tucker with me." - - --From _Songs of the Dead End_. - - -I pawned my good clothes, my overcoat, and handbag in Glasgow, took a -bed in Moran's model by the wharf, and once again recommenced my search -for Norah. - -The search was both fruitless and tiring. Day after day I prowled -through the streets, and each succeeding midnight found me on the spot -where I had met Norah on the evening of my wrestling encounter. For -hours I would stand motionless at the street corner and scrutinise every -woman who passed me by. Sometimes in these children of the night I -fancied that I detected a resemblance to her whom I loved. With a -flutter in my heart I would hurry forward, only to find that I was -mistaken. Disappointed, I would once again resume my vigil, and -sometimes the grey smoky dawn was slanting across the dull roofs of the -houses before I sought my model and bed. It is a weary job, looking for -a friend in a great big city. One street is more perplexing than a -hundred miles of open country. A window or a wall separates you from her -whom you seek. You pass day after day, perhaps, within speaking distance -of her whom you love, and never know that she is near you. Every door -is a puzzle, every lighted window an enigma. The great city is a Sahara, -in which you look for one special grain of sand; and doubt, perplexity, -and heart yearning accompany you on your mission. I could not write, -neither could I turn my attention to manual labour. My whole being was -centred on my search, and the thought of anything else was repugnant to -me. My desire for Norah grew and grew, it filled my soul, leaving no -room for anything else. - -To Moran's, where I stayed, the navvies came daily when out on their -eternal wanderings, and here I met many of my old mates. They came, -stopped for a night, and then padded out for Rosyth, where the big naval -base, still in process of construction, was then in its first stages of -building. Most of the men had heard of my visit to London, and none -seemed surprised at my return. None of them thought that the job had -done me much good, for now my hands were as white as a woman's. Carroty -Dan, who came in drunk one night, examined me critically and allowed -that he could knock me out easily in my present condition, but being too -drunk to follow up any train of reasoning he dropped, in the midst of -his utterances, on the sawdust of the floor and fell asleep. Hell-fire -Gahey, Clancy of the Cross, Ben the Moocher, and Red Billy Davis all -passed through Moran's, one of their stages on the road to Rosyth. Most -of them wanted me to accompany the big stampede, but I had no ear for -their proposals. I had a mission of my own, and until it was completed -no man could persuade me to leave Glasgow. - -I made enquiries about Moleskin Joe. Most of the men had met Moleskin -lately, but they did not know where he was at the moment. Some said that -he was in gaol, one that he was dead, and another that he was married. -But I knew that if he was alive, and that if I stopped long enough in -Moran's, I would meet him there, for most navvies pass that way more -than once in their lives. I had, however, lost a great deal of interest -in Moleskin's doings. There was only one thing for which I now lived, -and that was the search for the girl whom I loved. - -One morning about four o'clock I returned to my lodgings and stole -upstairs to the bedroom, which contained three other beds in addition to -mine. The three were occupied, and as I turned on the gas I took a -glimpse of the sleepers. Two of them I did not know, but I gave a start -of surprise when I caught a glimpse of the unshaven face showing over -the blankets of the bed next to mine. I was looking at Moleskin Joe. I -approached the bed. The man was snoring loudly and his breath was heavy -with the fumes of alcohol. I clutched the blankets and shook the -sleeper. - -"Moleskin!" I shouted. - -He grumbled out some incoherent words and turned over on his side. - -"Moleskin!" I called again, and gave him a more vigorous shake. - -"Lemme alone, damn you!" he growled. "There's a good time comin'----" - -The sentence ended in a snore and Joe fell asleep again. I troubled him -no further, but turned off the light and slipped into bed. - -In the morning I woke with a start to find Joe shaking me with all his -might. He was standing beside my bed, undressed, save for his trousers. - -"Flynn!" he yelled, when I opened my eyes. "My great unsanctified -Pontius Pilate, it's Flynn! Hurrah! May the walls of hell fall on me if -I'm not glad to see you. May I get a job shoein' geese and drivin' swine -to clover if this is not the greatest day of my life! Dermod Flynn, I am -glad to see---- Great blazes, your hands are like the hands of a brothel -slut!" - -Joe left off his wild discourses and prodded the hand which I placed -over the blankets with his knuckles. He was still half intoxicated, and -a bottle three-quarters full of spirits was lying against the pillow of -his bed. - -"White as a mushroom, but hard as steel," he said when he finished -prodding. - -"How are you, Moleskin?" I asked. They were the first words that I had -spoken. - -"Nine pounds to the good!" he roared. "I'll paint Moran's red with it. -I'll raise Cain and flamin' fiery hell until ev'ry penny's spent. Then -Rosyth, muck barrows, hard labour, and growlin' gangers again. But who'd -have thought of seen' you here!" he went on in a quieter tone. "Man! -I've often been thinkin' of you. I heard that you went up to Lon'on, -then I found the name of the paper where you were workin' your shifts -and I bought it ev'ry day. By God! I did, Flynn. I read all them great -pieces about the East Lon'on workin' people. I read some of your -writin's to the men in Burn's at Greenock, and some of the lodgers said -that you were stuck up and priggish. I knew what you'd do if you were -there yourself. You would knock red and blue blazes out of ev'ry man of -them. Well, you weren't there and I done the job for you. Talk about -skin and hair! It was flyin' all over the place between the hot-plate -and the door for two hours and longer. I'm damned eternal if it wasn't a -fight! Never seen the like of it.... Man! your hands are like a woman's, -Flynn!... Come and have a drink, one good long, gulpin' drink, and it -will make a man of you!... Did you like the ways of London?" - -"No," I replied. "The pen was not in my line." - -"I knew that," said Joe solemnly, as he lifted the bottle from the -pillow. "Finger doctorin' doesn't suit a man like you. When you work you -must get your shoulder at the job and all the strength of your spine -into the graft. Have some blasted booze?" - -"I've given up the booze, Moleskin," I answered. - -He glanced at me with a look of frosty contempt and his eyes were fixed -for a long while on my white hands. - -"Lon'on has done for you, man, and it is a pity indeed," he said at -last, but I understood Moleskin and knew that his compassion was given -more in jest than in earnest. "What are you goin' to do? Are you for -Rosyth?" - -"No." - -"Then why the devil aren't you?" - -"Are you going there?" I asked, forgetting that he had already told me -of his design. - -"When I burst the last tanner in my pocket," he answered. "I've nine -quid clear, so I'll get drunk nine hundred times and more. What caused -you to give up the booze? A woman, was it?" - -Suddenly the impulse came to me and I told Joe my story, my second -meeting with Norah Ryan, and my desire to see her again. There in the -ragged bed, with Joe stripped naked to the buff, and half drunk, sitting -beside me, I told the story of my love for Norah, our parting, her -shame, and my weary searching for her through the streets of Glasgow. -Much of the story he knew, for I had told it to him in Kinlochleven long -before. But I wanted to unburden myself of my sorrow, I wanted sympathy, -I wanted the consolation of a fellow-man in my hours of worry. When I -had finished my mate remained silent for a long while and I expected his -usual tirades against women when he began to speak. On the contrary, the -story seemed to have sobered him and his voice was full of feeling when -he spoke. - -"I'm goin' to help you to find your wench, Dermod," he said. "That's -better than gettin' drunk, though I'd prefer gettin' drunk to gettin' -married." - -"But----" - -"Don't but me!" roared Joe. "I'm goin' to give you a hand. Do you like -that or do you not?" - -"I'll be more than glad to have your help," I answered; "but----" - -"No more damned buts, but let's get to business. Here, Judas Iscariot, -are you feelin' sour this mornin'?" - -Joe spoke to one of the lodgers, a hairy and deformed fellow who was -just emerging in all his nakedness from the blankets. - -"Hellish sour, Moleskin!" answered the man. "Anything to spare?" - -"Take this and get drunk out of sight," said Moleskin, handing him the -bottle. - -"You mean it?" exclaimed the man. "You are goin' to give me the whole -bottle?" - -"Take it and get out of my sight," was all that Joe said and the old man -left the room, hugging the bottle under his naked arm. - -"He was a bank clerk did you say?" asked Moleskin. "Them sort of fellows -that wear white collars and are always washing themselves. I never could -trust them, Flynn, never in all my natural. Now give me the farmer -cully's address; maybe he knows where your wench is." - -In my heart of hearts I knew that the mission proposed by Joe would have -no beneficial results, but I could not for the life of me say a word to -restrain him from going. In my mind there was a blind trust in some -unshapen chance and I allowed Joe to have his way. - -The farmhouse where Alec Morrison lived being twenty miles distant from -Glasgow, I offered Joe his railway fare, and for a moment I was -overwhelmed by his Rabelaisian abuse. He would see me fried on the -red-hot ovens and spits of hell if ever I offered him money again. - -Morrison maybe was not at home; perhaps he had gone to London, to -Canada. But Joe would find him out, I thought; and it was with a -certain amount of satisfaction that I remembered having heard how Joe -once fought a man twenty-six times, and getting knocked out every time -challenged his opponent to a twenty-seventh contest. In the last fight -my mate was victorious. - -During his absence I moped about, unable to work, unable to think, and -hoping against hope that the mission would be successful. Late in the -afternoon he returned with a sprained thumb and without any tidings of -my sweetheart. The clerk was at home, and the encounter with Joe was -violent from the outset. Morrison said that my mate was a fool who had -nothing better to do than meddle with the morals of young women; and -refused to answer any questions. Joe took the matter in hand in his -usual fistic and persuasive way and learned that the farmer's son had -not seen Norah for years and that he did not know where she was. Joe, -angry at his failure, sprained his thumb on the young man's face before -coming back to Glasgow. - -"And what was the good of this?" said Moleskin, holding up his sprained -thumb and looking at it. "It didn't give one much satisfaction to knock -him down. He is a fellow with no thoughts in his head; one of them kind -that thinks three shillings a week paid to a woman will wipe out any sin -or shame. By God! I'm a bad one, Flynn, damned bad, but I hope that I've -been worse to myself than anybody on this or the other side of the -grave. Look at these young women who come over from Ireland! I'd rather -have the halter of Judas Iscariot round my neck than be the cause of -sendin' one of them to the streets, and all for the woman's sake, Flynn. -There should be something done for these women. If we find a tanner -lying in the mud we lift and rub it on our coats to clean it; but if we -find a woman down we throw more mud over her.... I like you, Flynn, for -the way you stand up for that wench of yours. Gold rings, collars, and -clean boots, and under it all a coward. That's what Morrison is." - -"What is to be done now?" I asked. Joe was silent, but his mind was at -work. All that evening he sat by the bed, his mind deep in thought, -while I paced up and down the room, a prey to agony and remorse. - -"I have it, Flynn," he cried at length. "I have it, man!" He jumped up -from his bed in great excitement. - -"Your wench was Catholic and she would go to the chapel; a lot of them -do. They steal into church just like thieves, almost afraid to ask -pardon for their sins, Flynn. If there is anything good in them they -hide it, just as another person would hide a fault; but maybe some -priest knows her, some priest on the south side. We'll go and ask one of -the clergy fellows thereabouts. Maybe one of them will have met the -woman. I've never knew a----" He stopped suddenly and left the sentence -unspoken. - -"Go on," I said. "What were you going to say?" - -"Most of the women that I know go to church." - -His words spoke volumes. Well did I know the class of women who were -friends of Moleskin Joe, and from personal experience I knew that his -remarks were true. - -It was now eight o'clock. We went out together and sought the priest who -had charge of the chapel nearest the spot where many months before I had -met Norah Ryan. The priest was a grey-haired and kindly old Irishman, -and he welcomed us heartily. Joe, to whom a priest represented some kind -of monster, was silent in the man's presence, but I, having been born -and bred a Roman Catholic, was more at home with the old man. - -I told my story, but he was unable to offer any assistance. His -congregation was a large one and many of its members were personally -unknown to him. - -"But in the confessional, Father," I said. "Probably there you have -heard a story similar to mine. Maybe the girl whom I seek has told you -of her life when confessing her sins. Perhaps you may recollect hearing -such a story in the confessional, Father." - -"It may be, but in that case the affair rests between the penitent and -God," said the old priest sadly, and a far-away look came into his -kindly eyes. - -"If the disclosure of a confessional secret brings happiness to one -mortal at the expense of none, is it not best for a man to disclose it?" -I asked. - -"I act under God's orders and He knows what is best," said the old man, -and there was a touch of reproof in his voice. - -Sick at heart, I rose to take my leave. Moleskin, glad to escape from -the house, hurried towards the door which the priest opened. As I was -passing out, the old man laid a detaining hand upon my arm. - -"In a situation like this, one of God's servants hardly knows what is -best to do," he said in a low whisper which Moleskin, already in the -street, could not hear. "Perhaps it is not contrary to God's wishes that -I should go against His commands and make two of His children happy even -in this world. Three months ago, your sweetheart was in this very -district, in this parish, and in this chapel. Do not ask me how I have -learned this," he hurried on, as I made a movement to interrupt him. "If -I mistake not she was then in good health and eager to give up a certain -sin, which God has long since forgiven. Be clean of heart, my child, and -God will aid you in your search and you'll surely find her." - -He closed the door softly behind me and once again I found myself in the -street along with Moleskin. - -"What was the fellow sayin' to you?" asked my mate. - -"He says that he has seen her three months ago," I answered. "But -goodness knows where she is now!" - -In the subsequent search Moleskin showed infinite resource. Torn by the -emotions of love, I could not form correct judgments. No sooner had one -expedient failed, however, than my mate suggested another. On the -morning after our interview with the priest he suddenly rose from his -seat in the bedroom, full of a new design. - -"My great Jehovah, I have it, Flynn!" he roared enthusiastically. - -"What is it?" I asked. Every new outburst of Moleskin gave me renewed -hope. - -"Gourock Ellen, that's the woman!" he cried. "She knows ev'rything and -she lives in the south side, where you saw your wench for the last time. -I'm goin' to see Gourock Ellen, for she's the woman that knows -ev'rything, by God! she does. You can stop here and I'll be back in next -to no time." - -About seven o'clock in the evening Joe returned. There was a strained -look on his face and he gazed at me furtively when he entered. Instantly -I realised that the search had not gone well. He was nervous and -agitated, and his voice was low and subdued. It was not Moleskin's voice -at all. Something had happened, something discouraging, awful. - -"I'm back again," he said. - -"Have you seen her, Joe?" I asked hoarsely. I had been waiting his -return for hours and I was on the tenter-hooks of suspense. - -"I've seen Gourock Ellen," said Joe. - -"Does she know anything about Norah?" - -"She does." I waited for further information, but my mate relapsed into -a silence which irritated me. - -"Where is Norah, Moleskin?" I cried. "Tell me what that woman said. I'm -sick of waiting day after day. What did Gourock Ellen tell you, Joe?" - -"I saw Norah Ryan, too," was Moleskin's answer. - -"Thank you, Moleskin!" I cried impetuously. "You're a real good -sort----" - -A look at Joe's face damped my enthusiasm. Why the agitation and -faltering voice? Presentiments of bad tidings filled my mind and my -voice trembled as I put the next question. - -"Where did you see her, Joe?" I asked. - -"In Gourock Ellen's house." - -"In that woman's house!" I gasped involuntarily, for I had not rid -myself of the fugitive disgust with which I had regarded that woman when -first I met her. "That's not the house for Norah! What took her there?" - -"Gourock Ellen found Norah lyin' on the streets hurted because some -hooligans treated her shameful," said Joe, in a low and almost inaudible -voice. "For the last six weeks she has watched over your girl, day and -night, when there was not another friend to help her in all the world. -And now Norah Ryan is for death. She'll not live another twenty-four -hours!" - -To me existence has meant succeeding reconciliations to new misfortunes, -and now the greatest misfortune had happened. Moleskin's words cut -through my heart as a whiplash cuts through the naked flesh. Fate, -chance, and the gods were against me, and the spine of life was almost -broken. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -THE END OF THE STORY - - "Our years pass like a tale that is told badly." - - --MOLESKIN JOE. - - -The darkness had long since fallen over the tumbledown rookeries of the -Glasgow alley wherein this story is to end, but the ragged children -still played in the gutters and the old withered women still gossiped on -the pavements. Two drunken men fought outside a public-house and another -lay asleep on the dirty kerbstone. When Moleskin and I came to the close -which was well known to my mate we had to step over the drunken man in -making an entrance. - -We passed through a long arched passage and made our way up a flight of -rickety wooden stairs, which were cracked at every step, while each -crack was filled with the undisturbed dirt of months. - -"In there," said Joe, pointing to a splintered door when we gained the -top landing. "I'm goin' to stop outside and wait till you come back -again." - -I rapped on the door, but there was no response. I pushed against the -handle and it opened inwards. An open door is a sure sign of poverty. It -is a waste of time to lock a door on an empty house. Here where the -wealth of men was not kept, the purity of women could not be stolen. -Probably Death had effected his entrance before me, but he is one whom -no door can hold. I looked into the room. - -How bare it looked! A guttering candle threw a dim light over the place -and showed up the nakedness of the apartment. The paper on the walls was -greasy to the height of a man's head and there was no picture or -ornament in the place to bring out one reviving thought. The floor was -dirty, worn, and uncarpeted; a pile of dead ashes was in the fireplace -and a frying-pan without a handle lay in one corner of the room. No -chair was to be seen. A pile of rags lay on the floor and these looked -as if they had been used for a bed. The window was open, probably to let -the air into the room, but instead of the pure fresh air, the smoke of a -neighbouring chimney stole into the chamber. - -This much did my eyes take in vaguely before I saw the truckle bed which -was placed along the wall near the window. On the bed a woman lay -asleep--or maybe dead! I approached quietly and stood by the bedside. I -was again looking at Norah, my sweetheart, grown fairer yet through sin -and sorrow. The face was white as the petals of some water flower, and -the shadow of the long wavy hair about it seemed to make it whiter -still. She was asleep and I stood there lost in contemplation of her, a -spirit which the first breeze might waft away. Her sleep was sound. I -could see her bosom rising and falling under the ragged coverlet and -could hear the even breath drawn softly in between the white lips now -despoiled of all the cherry redness of six years ago. Instinctively I -knew that the life of her was already broken in the grip of sorrow and -death. - -Suddenly she opened her soft grey eyes. In their calm and tragic depths -a strange lustre resembling nothing earthly shone for a moment. There -was in them the peace which had taken the place of vanished hopes and -the calm and sorrowful acceptance of an end far different from her -childish dreams. - -She started up in the bed and a startled look stole into her face. A -bright colour glowed faintly in her cheeks, and about her face there was -still the girlish grace of the Norah whom I had met years before on the -leading road to Greenanore. - -"I was dreamin' of ye, Dermod," she said in a low silvery voice. "Ye -were long in comin'." - -Sitting up with one elbow buried in the pillow, her chemise slipped from -her shoulders and her skin looked very pink and delicate under the -scattered locks of brown hair. I went down on my knees by the bedside -and clasped both her hands in mine. She was expecting me--waiting for -me. - -"Ellen told me that ye were lookin' for meself," she continued. "A man -came this mornin'." - -"I sent him, Norah," I said. "'Tis good to see you again, darling. I -have been looking for you such a long time." - -"Have ye?" was all her answer, and gripping my two big hands tightly -with her little ones she began to sob like a child. - -"It's the kindly way that ye have with ye, Dermod," she went on, sinking -back into the bed. Her tearless sobs were almost choking her and she -gazed up at the roof with sad, blank eyes. "Ye don't know what I am and -the kind of life I have been leadin' for a good lot of years, to come -and speak to me again. It's not for a decent man like ye to speak to the -likes of my kind! It's meself that has suffered a big lot, too, Dermod, -and I deserve pity more than hate. Me sufferin's would have broke the -heart of a cold mountainy stone." - -"Poor Norah! well do I know what you have suffered," I said. "I have -been looking for you for a long while and I want to make you happy now -that I have found you." - -"Make me happy!" she exclaimed, withdrawing her hands from mine. "What -would ye be doin' wantin' to make me happy? I'm dead to ev'rybody, to -the people at home, and to me own very mother! What would she want with -me now, me, her daughter, and the mother of a child that never had a -priest's blessin' on its head? A child without a lawful father! Think of -it, Dermod! What would the Glenmornan people say if they met me on the -streets? It was a dear child to me, it was. And ye are wantin' to make -me happy. Ev'ry time ye come ye say that ye are goin' to make me happy. -D'ye mind seein' me on the streets, Dermod?" - -"I remember it, Norah," I said. She had spoken of the times I came to -see her and I did not understand. Perhaps I came to her in dreams. - -"It was the child, Dermod," she rambled on; "it was the little boy and -he was dyin', both of a cough that was stickin' in his throat and of -starvation. I hadn't seen bread or that what buys it for many's a long -hour, even for days itself. I could not get work to do. I tried to beg, -but the peelis was goin' to put me in prison, and then there was nothin' -for me, Dermod, but to take to the streets.... There was long white -boats goin' out and we were watchin' them from the strand of Trienna -Bay, Dermod and me. I called him Dermod, but he never got the -christenin' words said over him or a drop of holy water.... Where is -Ellen? Ellen, ye're a good friend to me, ye are. The people that are sib -to meself do not care what happens to one of their own kind, but it's ye -yerself that has the good heart, Ellen. And ye say that Dermod Flynn is -comin' to see me? I would like to see him again.... I called me little -boy after him, too.... Little Dermod, I called him, and now he's dead -without the priest's blessin' ever put over him." - -"I'm here, Norah," I said, for I knew that her mind was wandering. "I am -here, Norah. I am Dermod Flynn. Do you know me now?" - -The long lashes dropped over her eyes and hid them from my sight. - -"Norah, do you remember me?" I repeated. "I am Dermod, Dermod Flynn. Say -Dermod after me." - -She opened her eyes again and looked at me with a puzzled glance. - -"Is it ye, Dermod?" she cried. "I knew that ye were comin' to see me. I -was thinkin' of ye often and many's the time that I thought ye were -standin' be me bed quiet like and takin' a look at me. Ye're here now, -are ye? Say true as death." - -"True as death," I repeated after her. The phrase was a Glenmornan one. - -"Then where is Ellen and where is the man that came here this mornin' -and left a handful of money to help us along?" she asked. "He was a good -kindly man, givin' us so much money and maybe needin' it himself, too. -Joe was his name." - -"Moleskin Joe," I said. - -"There were three men on the street and they made fun of me when I was -passin' them," said Norah, and her mind was wandering again. "And one of -the men caught me and I tried to get away and I struggled and fought. -For wasn't I forgiven for me sins at the chapel that day and I was goin' -to be a good woman all the rest of me life? I told the men to let me -alone and one of them kicked me and I fell on the cold street. No one -came to help me. Who would care at all, at all, for a woman like me? The -very peelis will not give me help. 'Twas Ellen that picked me up when -the last gasp was almost in me mouth. And she has been the good friend -to me ever since. Sittin' up at night be me side and workin' her fingers -to the bone for me durin' the livelong day. Ellen, ye're very good to -me." - -"Ellen is not here, Norah," I said, and the tears were running down my -cheek. - -I placed my hand on Norah's forehead, which was cold as marble, and at -that moment somebody entered the room. I was aware of the presence of -the newcomer, but never looked round. Norah's face now wore a look of -calm repose and her lashes falling slowly hid the far-away look in her -grey eyes. For a moment I thought that she held silent council with the -angels. - -I was still aware of the presence. Somebody came forward, bent tenderly -over the bed and softly brushed the stray tresses back from Norah's -brow. It was the woman, Gourock Ellen. At that moment I felt myself an -intruder, one who was looking on things too sacred for his eyes. - -"Norah, are you asleep?" Ellen asked, and there was no answer. - -"Norah! Norah!" The woman of the streets bent closer to the girl in the -bed and pressed her hand to Norah's heart. - -"Have ye come back, Ellen?" Norah asked, in a quiet voice without -opening her eyes. "I was dreamin' in the same old way. I saw him comin' -back again. He was standin' be me bed and he was very kind, like he -always was." - -"He's here, little lass," answered Ellen; then to me, "Speak to her, -man! She's been wearin' her heart awa' thinkin' of you for a lang, lang, -weary while. Speak to her and we'll save her yet. She's just wanderin' a -bit in her heid." - -"Then it's not dreamin' that I was!" cried Norah. "It's Dermod himself -that's in it and back again. Just comin' to see me! It's himself that -has the kindly Glenmornan heart and always had. Dermod, Dermod!" - -Her voice became low and strained and I bent closer to catch her words. - -"It was ye that I was thinkin' of all the time and I was foolish when -we were workin' with Micky's Jim. It's all me fault and sorrow is on me -because I made ye suffer. Maybe ye'll go home some day. If ye do, go to -me mother's house and ask her to forgive me. Tell her that I died on the -year I left Micky's Jim's squad. I was not me mother's child after that; -I was dead to all the world. My fault could not be undone--that's what -made the blackness of it: Niver let yer own sisters go into a strange -country, Dermod. Niver let them go to the potato-squad, for it's the -place that is evil for a girl like me that hasn't much sense. Ye're not -angry with me, Dermod, are ye?" - -"Norah, I was never angry with you," I said, and I kissed her lips. They -were hot as fire. "Darling, you didn't think that I was angry with you?" - -"No, Dermod, for it's ye that has the kindly way!" said the poor girl. -"Would ye do something for me if iver ye go back to yer own place?" - -"Anything you ask, Norah," I answered, "and anything within my power to -do." - -"Will ye get a mass said for me in the chapel at home, a mass for the -repose of me soul?" she asked. "If ye do I'll be very happy." - -When I raised my head, Moleskin was in the room. He had stolen in -quietly, tired of waiting, and perhaps curious to see the end. He -removed his cap and stood in the middle of the floor and looked -curiously around. Norah sat up in bed and beckoned Ellen to approach. - -She opened her mouth as if to speak, but there was a rattle in her -throat, her teeth chattered, her hands opened and closed like those of a -drowning man who clutches at floating sedge, and she dropped back to the -pillow. Ellen and I hastened to help her, and laid her down quietly on -the bed. Her eyes were open, her mouth wide apart showing two rows of -white teeth. The spirit of the girl I loved had passed away. Without -doubt, outside and over the smoke of the large city, a great angel with -outspread wings was waiting for her soul. - -I was conscious of a great relief. Death, the universal comforter, had -smoothed out things in a way that was best for the little girl, who knew -the deep sorrows of an erring woman when only a child. - -Joe looked awkwardly around. There was something weighing on his mind. -Presently he touched me on the arm. - -"Would there be any harm in me goin' down on my knees and sayin' a -prayer?" he asked. - -"No harm, Joe," I said, as I knelt again by the bedside. - -Ellen and Joe went down on their knees beside me. Outside the sounds of -the city were loud in the air. An organ-grinder played his organ on the -pavement; a crowd of youngsters passed by, roaring out a comic song. -Norah lay peacefully in the Great Sleep. I could neither think nor pray. -My eyes were riveted on the dead woman. - -The candle made a final splutter and went out. Inside the room there was -complete darkness. Joe hardly breathed, and not knowing a prayer, he was -silent. From time to time I could hear loud sobs, the words of a great -prayer--the heart prayer of a stricken woman. Gourock Ellen was weeping. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dead End, by Patrick MacGill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END *** - -***** This file should be named 50324-8.txt or 50324-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/2/50324/ - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Children of the Dead End - The Autobiography of an Irish Navvy - -Author: Patrick MacGill - -Release Date: October 27, 2015 [EBook #50324] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="bold">CHILDREN<br />OF<br />THE<br />DEAD<br />END</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<h1>CHILDREN OF<br />THE DEAD END</h1> - -<p class="bold">THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY<br />OF AN IRISH NAVVY</p> - -<p class="bold">BY<br />PATRICK<br />MACGILL</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY<br />681 Fifth Avenue</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">THE ANCHOR PRESS, LTD., TIPTREE, ESSEX, ENGLAND.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>FOREWORD</h2> - -<p>"I wish the Kinlochleven navvies had been thrown into the loch. They -would fain turn the Highlands into a cinderheap," said the late Andrew -Lang, writing to me a few months before his death.</p> - -<p>In the following pages I have endeavoured to tell of the navvy; the life -he leads, the dangers he dares, and the death he often dies. Most of my -story is autobiographical. Moleskin Joe and Carroty Dan are true to -life; they live now, and for all I know to the contrary may be met with -on some precarious job, in some evil-smelling model lodging-house, or, -as suits these gipsies of labour, on the open road. Norah Ryan's painful -story shows the dangers to which an innocent girl is exposed through -ignorance of the fundamental facts of existence; Gourock Ellen and Annie -are types of women whom I have often met. While asking a little -allowance for the pen of the novelist it must be said that nearly all -the incidents of the book have come under the observation of the writer: -that such incidents should take place makes the tragedy of the story.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Patrick MacGill.</span></p> - -<p>The Garden House,<br /><span class="s3"> </span>Windsor.<br /><i>January, 1914.</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td class="left"> A NIGHT IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td class="left"> OLD CUSTOMS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td class="left"> A CORSICAN OUTRAGE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV.</td> - <td class="left"> THE GREAT SILENCE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V.</td> - <td class="left"> THE SLAVE MARKET</td> - <td><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI.</td> - <td class="left"> BOYNE WATER AND HOLY WATER</td> - <td><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII.</td> - <td class="left"> A MAN OF TWELVE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII.</td> - <td class="left"> OLD MARY SORLEY</td> - <td><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX.</td> - <td class="left"> A GOOD TIME</td> - <td><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X.</td> - <td class="left"> THE LEADING ROAD TO STRABANE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI.</td> - <td class="left"> THE 'DERRY BOAT</td> - <td><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII.</td> - <td class="left"> THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT ASHAMED</td> - <td><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII.</td> - <td class="left"> THE MAN WITH THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK</td> - <td><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV.</td> - <td class="left"> PADDING IT</td> - <td><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV.</td> - <td class="left"> MOLESKIN JOE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI.</td> - <td class="left"> MOLESKIN JOE AS MY FATHER</td> - <td><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII.</td> - <td class="left"> ON THE DEAD END</td> - <td><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> THE DRAINER</td> - <td><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX.</td> - <td class="left"> A DEAD MAN'S SHOES</td> - <td><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XX.</td> - <td class="left"> BOOKS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXI.</td> - <td class="left"> A FISTIC ARGUMENT</td> - <td><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII.</td> - <td class="left"> THE OPEN ROAD</td> - <td><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIII.</td> - <td class="left"> THE COCK OF THE NORTH</td> - <td><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIV.</td> - <td class="left"> MECCA</td> - <td><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV.</td> - <td class="left"> THE MAN WHO THRASHED CARROTY DAN</td> - <td><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI.</td> - <td class="left"> A GREAT FIGHT</td> - <td><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII.</td> - <td class="left"> DE PROFUNDIS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>XXVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> A LITTLE TRAGEDY</td> - <td><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIX.</td> - <td class="left"> I WRITE FOR THE PAPERS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXX.</td> - <td class="left"> WINTER</td> - <td><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXI.</td> - <td class="left"> THE GREAT EXODUS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXII.</td> - <td class="left"> A NEW JOB</td> - <td><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXIII.</td> - <td class="left"> A SWEETHEART OF MINE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXIV.</td> - <td class="left"> UNSKILLED LABOUR OF A NEW KIND</td> - <td><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXV.</td> - <td class="left"> THE SEARCH</td> - <td><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXXVI.</td> - <td class="left"> THE END OF THE STORY</td> - <td><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">CHILDREN<br />OF<br />THE<br />DEAD<br />END</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">CHILDREN OF<br />THE DEAD END</p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">A NIGHT IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The wee red-headed man is a knowing sort of fellow,</div> -<div>His coat is cat's-eye green and his pantaloons are yellow,</div> -<div>His brogues be made of glass and his hose be red as cherry,</div> -<div>He's the lad for devilment if you only make him merry,</div> -<div>He drives a flock of goats, has another flock behind him.</div> -<div>The little children fear him but the old folk never mind him.</div> -<div>To the frogs' house and the goats' house and the hilly land and hollow,</div> -<div>He will carry naughty children where the parents dare not follow.</div> -<div>Oh! little ones, beware. If the red-haired man should catch you,</div> -<div>You'll have only goats to play with and croaking frogs to watch you,</div> -<div>A bed between two rocks and not a fire to warm you!—</div> -<div>Then, little ones, be good and the red-haired man can't harm you."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>The Song of the Red-haired Man</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was night in the dead of winter, and we sat around the fire that -burned in red and blue flames on the wide open hearth. The blue flames -were a sign of storm.</p> - -<p>The snow was white on the ground that stretched away from the door of my -father's house, down the dip of the brae and over the hill that rose on -the other side of the glen. I had just been standing out by the little -hillock that rose near the corner of the home gable-end, watching the -glen people place their lamps in the window corners. I loved to see the -lights come out one by one until every house was lighted up. Nothing -looks so cheerful as a lamp seen through the darkness.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>On the other side of the valley a mountain stream tumbled down to the -river. It was always crying out at night and the wail in its voice could -be heard ever so far away. It seemed to be lamenting over something -which it had lost. I always thought of women dreeing over a dead body -when I listened to it. It seemed so strange to me, too, that it should -keep coming down and down for ever.</p> - -<p>The hills surrounding the glen were very high; the old people said that -there were higher hills beyond them, but this I found very hard to -believe.</p> - -<p>These were the thoughts in my mind as I entered my home and closed the -door behind me. From the inside I could see the half-moon, twisted like -a cow's horn, shining through the window.</p> - -<p>"It will be a wet month this," said my father. "There are blue flames in -the fire, and a hanging moon never keeps in rain."</p> - -<p>The wind was moaning over the chimney. By staying very quiet one could -hear the wail in its voice, and it was like that of the stream on the -far side of the glen. A pot of potatoes hung over the fire, and as the -water bubbled and sang the potatoes could be seen bursting their jackets -beneath the lid. The dog lay beside the hearthstone, his nose thrust -well over his forepaws, threaping to be asleep, but ready to open his -eyes at the least little sound. Maybe he was listening to the song of -the pot, for most dogs like to hear it. An oil lamp swung by a string -from the roof-tree backwards and forwards like a willow branch when the -wind of October is high. As it swung the shadows chased each other in -the silence of the farther corners of the house. My mother said that if -we were bad children the shadows would run away with us, but they never -did, and indeed we were often full of all sorts of mischief. We felt -afraid of the shadows, they even frightened mother. But father was -afraid of nothing. Once he came from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> Ardara fair on the Night of the -Dead<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and passed the graveyard at midnight.</p> - -<p>Sometimes my mother would tell a story, and it was always about the wee -red-headed man who had a herd of goats before him and a herd of goats -behind him, and a salmon tied to the laces of his brogues for supper. I -have now forgotten all the great things which he went through, but in -those days I always thought the story of the wee red-headed man the most -wonderful one in all the world. At that time I had never heard another.</p> - -<p>For supper we had potatoes and buttermilk. The potatoes were emptied -into a large wicker basket round which we children sat with a large bowl -of buttermilk between us, and out of this bowl we drank in turn. Usually -the milk was consumed quickly, and afterwards we ate the potatoes dry.</p> - -<p>Nearly every second year the potatoes went bad; then we were always -hungry, although Farley McKeown, a rich merchant in the neighbouring -village, let my father have a great many bags of Indian meal on credit. -A bag contained sixteen stone of meal and cost a shilling a stone. On -the bag of meal Farley McKeown charged sixpence a month interest; and -fourpence a month on a sack of flour which cost twelve shillings. All -the people round about were very honest, and paid up their debts -whenever they were able. Usually when the young went off to Scotland or -England they sent home money to their fathers and mothers, and with this -money the parents paid for the meal to Farley McKeown. "What doesn't go -to the landlord goes to Farley McKeown," was a Glenmornan saying.</p> - -<p>The merchant was a great friend of the parish priest, who always told -the people if they did not pay their debts they would burn for ever and -ever in hell. "The fires of eternity will make you sorry for the debts -that you did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> pay," said the priest. "What is eternity?" he would -ask in a solemn voice from the altar steps. "If a man tried to count the -sands on the sea-shore and took a million years to count every single -grain, how long would it take him to count them all? A long time, you'll -say. But that time is nothing to eternity. Just think of it! Burning in -hell while a man, taking a million years to count a grain of sand, -counts all the sand on the sea-shore. And this because you did not pay -Farley McKeown his lawful debts, his lawful debts within the letter of -the law." That concluding phrase "within the letter of the law" struck -terror into all who listened, and no one, maybe not even the priest -himself, knew what it meant.</p> - -<p>Farley McKeown would give no meal to those who had no children. "That -kind of people, who have no children to earn for them, never pay debts," -he said. "If <i>they</i> get meal and don't pay for it they'll go -down—down," said the priest. "'Tis God Himself that would be angry with -Farley McKeown if he gave meal to people like that."</p> - -<p>The merchant established a great knitting industry in West Donegal. My -mother used to knit socks for him, and he paid her at the rate of one -and threepence a dozen pairs, and it was said that he made a shilling of -profit on a pair of these in England. My mother usually made a pair of -socks daily; but to do this she had to work sixteen hours at the task. -Along with this she had her household duties to look after. "A penny -farthing a day is not much to make," I once said to her. "No, indeed, if -you look at it in that way," she answered. "But it is nearly two pounds -a year and that is half the rent of our farm of land."</p> - -<p>Every Christmas Farley McKeown paid two hundred and fifty pounds to the -church. When the priest announced this from the altar he would say, -"That's the man for you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> and all the members of the congregation would -bow their heads, feeling very much ashamed of themselves because none of -them could give more than a sixpence or a shilling to the silver -collection which always took place at the chapel of Greenanore on -Christmas Day.</p> - -<p>When the night grew later my mother put her bright knitting-needles by -in a bowl over the fireplace, and we all went down on our knees, praying -together. Then mother said: "See and leave the door on the latch; maybe -a poor man will need shelter on a night like this." With these words she -turned the ashes over on the live peat while we got into our beds, one -by one.</p> - -<p>There were six children in our family, three brothers and three sisters. -Of these, five slept in one room, two girls in the little bed, while -Fergus and Dan slept along with me in the other, which was much larger. -Father and mother and Kate, the smallest of us all, slept in the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>When the light was out, we prayed to Mary, Brigid, and Patrick to shield -us from danger until the morning. Then we listened to the winds outside. -We could hear them gather in the dip of the valley and come sweeping -over the bend of the hill, singing great lonely songs in the darkness. -One wind whistled through the keyhole, another tapped on the window with -an ivy leaf, while a third swept under the half-door and rustled across -the hearthstone. Then the breezes died away and there was silence.</p> - -<p>"They're only putting their heads together now," said Dan, "making up a -plan to do some other tricks."</p> - -<p>"I see the moon through the window," said Norah.</p> - -<p>"Who made the moon?" asked Fergus.</p> - -<p>"It was never made," answered Dan. "It was there always."</p> - -<p>"There is a man in the moon," I said. "He was very bad and a priest put -him up there for his sins."</p> - -<p>"He has a pot of porridge in his hand."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>"And a spoon."</p> - -<p>"A wooden spoon."</p> - -<p>"How could it shine at night if it's only a wooden spoon? It's made of -white silver."</p> - -<p>"Like a shillin'."</p> - -<p>"Like a big shillin' with a handle to it."</p> - -<p>"What would we do if we had a shillin'?" asked Ellen.</p> - -<p>"I'd buy a pocket-knife," said Dan.</p> - -<p>"Would you cut me a stick to drive bullocks to the harvest fair of -Greenanore?" asked Fergus.</p> - -<p>"And what good would be in havin' a knife if you cut sticks for other -folk?"</p> - -<p>"I'd buy a prayer-book for the shillin'," said Norah.</p> - -<p>"A prayer-book is no good, once you get it," I said. "A knife is far and -away better."</p> - -<p>"I would buy a sheep for a shillin'," said Fergus.</p> - -<p>"You couldn't get a sheep for a shillin'."</p> - -<p>"Well, I could buy a young one."</p> - -<p>"There never was a young sheep. A young one is only a lamb."</p> - -<p>"A lamb turns into a sheep at midsummer moon."</p> - -<p>"Why has a lamb no horns?" asked Norah.</p> - -<p>"Because it's young," we explained.</p> - -<p>"We'll sing a holy song," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>"We'll sing <i>Holy Mary</i>," we all cried together, and began to sing in -the darkness.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh! Holy Mary, mother mild.</div> -<div>Look down on me, a little child.</div> -<div>And when I sleep put near my bed</div> -<div>The good Saint Joseph at my head,</div> -<div>My guardian Angel at my right</div> -<div>To keep me good through all the night;</div> -<div>Saint Brigid give me blessings sweet;</div> -<div>Saint Patrick watch beside my feet.</div> -<div>Be good to me O! mother mild,</div> -<div>Because I am a little child."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p>"Get a sleep on you," mother called from the next room. "The wee -red-headed man is comin' down the chimley and he is goin' to take ye -away if ye aren't quiet."</p> - -<p>We fell asleep, and that was how the night passed by in my father's -house years ago.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The evening of All Souls' Day.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">OLD CUSTOMS</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Put a green cross beneath the roof on the eve of good Saint Bride</div> -<div>And you'll have luck within the house for long past Lammastide;</div> -<div>Put a green cross above the door—'tis hard to keep it green,</div> -<div>But 'twill bring good luck and happiness for long past Hallow E'en</div> -<div>The green cross holds Saint Brigid's spell, and long the spell endures,</div> -<div>And 'twill bring blessings on the head of you and all that's yours."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>The Song of Simple People</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Once a year, on Saint Bride's Eve, my father came home from his day's -work, carrying a load of green rushes on his shoulders. At the door he -would stand for a moment with his feet on the threshold and say these words:</p> - -<p>"Saint Bride sends her blessings to all within. Give her welcome."</p> - -<p>Inside my mother would answer, "Welcome she is," and at these words my -father would loosen the shoulder-knot and throw his burden on the floor. -Then he made crosses from the rushes, wonderful crosses they were. It -was said that my father was the best at that kind of work in all the -countryside. When made, they were placed in various parts of the house -and farm. They were hung up in our home, over the lintel of the door, -the picture of the Holy Family, the beds, the potato pile and the -fireplace. One was placed over the spring well, one in the pig-sty, and -one over the roof-tree of the byre. By doing this the blessing of Saint -Bride remained in the house for the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> of the following year. I -liked to watch my father plaiting the crosses, but I could never make -one myself.</p> - -<p>When my mother churned milk she lifted the first butter that formed on -the top of the cream and placed it against the wall outside the door. It -was left there for the fairy folk when they roamed through the country -at midnight. They would not harm those who gave them an offering in that -manner, but the people who forgot them would have illness among their -cattle through all the length of the year.</p> - -<p>If my father met a red-haired woman when he was going to the market he -would turn home. To meet a red-haired woman on the high-road is very -unlucky.</p> - -<p>It is a bad market where there are more women than men. "Two women and a -goose make a market," is the saying among the Glenmornan folk.</p> - -<p>If my mother chanced to overturn the milk which she had drawn from the -cow, she would say these words: "Our loss go with it. Them that it goes -to need it more than we do." One day I asked her who were the people to -whom it went. "The gentle folk," she told me. These were the fairies.</p> - -<p>You very seldom hear persons called by their surname in Glenmornan. -Every second person you meet there is either a Boyle or an O'Donnell. -You want to ask a question about Hugh O'Donnell. "Is it Patrick's Hugh -or Mickey's Hugh or Sean's Hugh?" you will be asked. So too in the Glen -you never say <i>Mrs.</i> when speaking of a married woman. It is just -"Farley's Brigid" or "Patrick's Norah" or "Cormac's Ellen," as the case -may be. There was one woman in Glenmornan who had a little boy of about -my age, and she seldom spoke to anybody on the road to chapel or market. -Everyone seemed to avoid her, and the old people called her "that -woman," and they often spoke about her doings. She had never a man of -her own, they said. Of course I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> didn't understand these things, but I -knew there was a great difference in being called somebody's Mary or -Norah instead of "that woman."</p> - -<p>On St. Stephen's Day the Glenmornan boys beat the bushes and killed as -many wrens as they could lay their hands on. The wren is a bad bird, for -it betrayed St. Stephen to the Jews when they wanted to put him to -death. The saint hid in a clump of bushes, but the wrens made such a -chatter and clatter that the Jews, when passing, stopped to see what -annoyed the birds, and found the saint hiding in the undergrowth. No -wonder then that the Glenmornan people have a grudge against the wren!</p> - -<p>Kissing is almost unknown in the place where I was born and bred. Judas -betrayed the Son of God with a kiss, which proves beyond a doubt that -kissing is of the devil's making. It is no harm to kiss the dead in -Glenmornan, for no one can do any harm to the dead.</p> - -<p>Once I got bitten by a dog. The animal snapped a piece of flesh from my -leg and ate it when he got out of the way. When I came into my own house -my father and mother were awfully frightened. If three hairs of the dog -that bit me were not placed against the sore I would go mad before seven -moons had faded. Oiney Dinchy, who owned the dog, would not give me -three hairs because I was unfortunate enough to be stealing apples when -the dog rushed at me. For all that it mattered to Oiney, I might go as -mad as a March hare. The priest, when informed of the trouble, blessed -salt which he told my father to place on the wound. My father did so, -but the salt pained me so much that I rushed screaming from the house. -The next door neighbours ran into their homes and closed their doors -when they heard me scream. Two little girls were coming to our house for -the loan of a half-bottle of holy water for a sick cow, and when they -saw me rush out they fled hurriedly, shrieking that I was already mad -from the bite of Oiney<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> Dinchy's dog. When Oiney heard this he got -frightened and he gave my father three hairs of the dog with a civil -hand. I placed them on my sore, the dog was hung by a rope from the -branch of a tree, and the madness was kept away from me. I hear that -nowadays in Glenmornan the people never apply the holy salt to the bite -of a dog. Thus do old customs change.</p> - -<p>The six-hand reel is a favourite Glenmornan dance, but in my time a new -parish priest came along who did not approve of dancing. "The six-hand -reel is a circle, the centre of which is the devil," said he, and called -a house in which a dance was held the "Devil's Station." He told the -people to cease dancing, but they would not listen to him. "When we get -a new parish priest we don't want a new God," they said. "The old God -who allowed dancing is good enough for us." The priest put the seven -curses on the people who said these words. I only know three of the -seven curses.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>May you have one leg and it to be halting.</div> -<div>May you have one eye and it to be squinting</div> -<div>May you have one tooth and it to be aching.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The second curse fell on one man—old Oiney Dinchy, who had a light foot -on a good floor. When tying a restive cow in the byre, the animal caught -Oiney in the ball of one eye with the point of its horn, and Oiney could -only see through the other eye afterwards. The people when they saw this -feared the new parish priest, but they never took any heed to the new -God, and up to this day there are many good six-hand reelers in -Glenmornan. And the priest is dead.</p> - -<p>The parish priest who came in his place was a little pot-bellied man -with white shiny false teeth, who smoked ninepenny cigars and who always -travelled first-class in a railway train. Everybody feared him because -he put curses on most of the people in Glenmornan; and usually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> on the -people whom I thought best in the world. Those whom I did not like at -all became great friends of the priest. I always left the high-road when -I saw him coming. His name was Father Devaney, and he was eternally -looking for money from the people, who, although very poor, always paid -when the priest commanded them. If they did not they would go to hell as -soon as they died. So Father Devaney said.</p> - -<p>A stranger in Glenmornan should never talk about crows. The people of -the Glen are nicknamed the "Crow Chasers," because once in the bad days, -the days of the potato failure, they chased for ten long hours a crow -that had stolen a potato, and took back the potato at night in triumph. -This has been cast up in their teeth ever since, and it is an ill day -for a stranger when he talks about crows to the Glenmornan people.</p> - -<p>Courtship is unknown in Glenmornan. When a young man takes it in his -head to marry, he goes out in company with a friend and a bottle of -whisky and looks for a woman. If one refuses, the young man looks for -another and another until the bottle of whisky is consumed. The friend -talks to the girl's father and lays great stress upon the merits of the -would-be husband, who meanwhile pleads his suit with the girl. Sometimes -a young man empties a dozen bottles of whisky before he can persuade a -woman to marry him.</p> - -<p>In my own house we had flesh meat to dinner four times each year, on St. -Patrick's Day, Easter Sunday, Christmas Day, and New Year's Day. If the -harvest had been a good one we took bacon with our potatoes at the -ingathering of the hay. Ours was a hay harvest; we grew very little -corn.</p> - -<p>Of all the seasons of the year I liked the harvest-time best. Looking -from the door of my father's house I had the whole of Glenmornan under -my eyes. Far down the Glen the road wound in and out, now on one side of -the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> river and now on the other, running away to the end of Ireland, and -for all that I knew, maybe to the end of the world itself.</p> - -<p>The river came from the hills, tumbling over rocks in showers of fine -white mist and forming into deep pools beneath, where it rested calmly -after its mad race. Here the trout leaped all day, and turned the placid -surface into millions of petulant ripples which broke like waves under -the hazel bushes that shaded the banks. In the fords further along the -heavy milch cows stood belly-deep in the stream, seeking relief from the -madness that the heat and the gad-flies put into their blood.</p> - -<p>The young cattle grazed on the braes, keeping well in the shadow of the -cliffs, while from the hill above the mountain-sheep followed one -another in single file, as is their wont, down to the lower and sweeter -pastures.</p> - -<p>The mowers were winding their scythes in long heavy sweeps through the -meadow in the bottomlands, and rows of mown hay lay behind them. Even -where I stood, far up, I could hear the sharp swish of their scythes as -they cut through the bottom grass.</p> - -<p>The young maidens, their legs bare well above their knees, tramped linen -at the brookside and laughed merrily at every joke that passed between -them.</p> - -<p>The neighbours spoke to one another across the march ditches, and their -talk was of the weather and the progress of the harvest.</p> - -<p>The farmer boy could be seen going to the moor for a load of peat, his -creel swinging in a careless way across his shoulders and his hands deep -in his trousers' pockets. He was barefooted, and the brown moss was all -over the calves of his legs. He was thinking of something as he walked -along and he looked well in his torn shirt and old hat. Many a time I -wondered what were the thoughts which filled his mind.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>Now and again a traveller passed along the road, looking very tired as -he dragged his legs after him. His hob-nailed boots made a rasping sound -on the grey gravel, and it was hard to tell where he was going.</p> - -<p>One day a drover passed along, driving his herd of wild-eyed, panting -bullocks before him. He was a little man and he carried a heavy cudgel -of a stick in his hands. I went out to the road to see him passing and -also to speak to him if he took any notice of a little fellow.</p> - -<p>"God's blessing be on every beast under your care," I said, repeating -the words which my mother always said to the drovers which she met. "Is -it any harm to ask you where you are going?"</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' to the fair of 'Derry," said he.</p> - -<p>"Is 'Derry fair as big as the fair of Greenanore, good man?"</p> - -<p>He laughed at my question, and I could see his teeth black with tobacco -juice. "Greenanore!" he exclaimed. "'Derry fair is a million times -bigger."</p> - -<p>Of course I didn't believe him, for had I not been at the harvest-fair -of Greenanore myself, and I thought that there could be nothing greater -in all the seven corners of the world. But it was in my world and I knew -more of the bigger as the years went on.</p> - -<p>In those days the world, to me, meant something intangible, which lay -beyond the farthest blue line of mountains which could be seen from -Glenmornan Hill. And those mountains were ever so far away! How many -snug little houses, white under their coatings of cockle lime, how many -wooden bridges spanning hurrying streams, and how many grey roads -crossing brown moors lay between Glenmornan Hill and the last blue line -of mountain tops that looked over into the world for which I longed with -all the wistfulness of youth, I did not know.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">A CORSICAN OUTRAGE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"When brown trout leap in ev'ry burn, when hares are scooting on the brae,</div> -<div>When rabbits frisk where e'er you turn, 'tis sad to waste your hours away</div> -<div>Within bald Learning's droning hive with pen and pencil, rod and rule—</div> -<div>Oh! the unhappiest soul alive is oft a little lad at school."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>The Man who Met the Scholars</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I did not like school. My father could neither read nor write, and he -didn't trouble much about my education.</p> - -<p>The priest told him to send me to the village school, and I was sent -accordingly.</p> - -<p>"The priest should know what is best," my father said.</p> - -<p>The master was a little man with a very large stomach. He was short of -breath, and it was very funny to hear him puffing on a very warm day, -when the sweat ran down his face and wetted his collar. The people about -thought that he was very wise, and said that he could talk a lot of -wisdom if he were not so short of breath. Whenever he sat by the school -fire he fell asleep. Everyone said that though very wise the man was -very lazy. When he got to his feet after a sleep he went about the -schoolroom grunting like a sick cow. For the first six months at school -I felt frightened of him, after that I disliked him. He beat me about -three times a day. He cut hazel rods on his way to school, and used them -every five minutes when not asleep. Nearly all the scholars cried -whenever they were beaten, but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> never did. I think this was one of his -strongest reasons for hating me more than any of the rest. I learned -very slowly, and never could do my sums correctly, but I liked to read -the poems in the more advanced books and could recite <i>Childe Harold's -Farewell</i> when only in the second standard.</p> - -<p>When I was ten years of age I left school, being then only in the third -book. This was the way of it. One day, when pointing out places on the -map of the world, the master came round, and the weather being hot the -man was in a bad temper.</p> - -<p>"Point out Corsica, Dermod Flynn," he said.</p> - -<p>I had not the least idea as to what part of the world Corsica occupied, -and I stood looking awkwardly at the master and the map in turn. I think -that he enjoyed my discomfited expression, for he gazed at me in silence -for a long while.</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn, point out Corsica," he repeated.</p> - -<p>"I don't know where it is," I answered sullenly.</p> - -<p>"I'll teach you!" he roared, getting hold of my ear and pulling it -sharply. The pain annoyed me; I got angry and hardly was aware of what I -was doing. I just saw his eyes glowering into mine. I raised the pointer -over my head and struck him right across the face. Then a red streak ran -down the side of his nose and it frightened me to see it.</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn has killed the master!" cried a little girl whose name was -Norah Ryan and who belonged to the same class as myself.</p> - -<p>I was almost certain that I had murdered him, for he dropped down on the -form by the wall without speaking a word and placed both his hands over -his face. For a wee bit I stood looking at him; then I caught up my cap -and rushed out of the school.</p> - -<p>Next day, had it not been for the red mark on his face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> the master was -as well as ever. But I never went back to school again. My father did -not believe much in book learning, so he sent me out to work for the -neighbours who required help at the seed-time or harvest. Sixpence a day -was my wages, and the work in the fields was more to my liking than the -work at the school.</p> - -<p>Whenever I passed the scholars on the road afterwards they said to one -another: "Just think of it! Dermod Flynn struck the master across the -face when he was at the school."</p> - -<p>Always I felt very proud of my action when I heard them say that. It was -a great thing for a boy of my age to stand up on his feet and strike a -man who was four times his age. Even the young men spoke of my action -and, what was more, they praised my courage. They had been at school -themselves and they did not like the experience.</p> - -<p>Nowadays, whenever I look at Corsica on the map, I think of old Master -Diver and the days I spent under him in the little Glenmornan -schoolhouse.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">THE GREAT SILENCE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Where the people toil like beasts in the field till their bones are strained and sore,</div> -<div>There the landlord waits, like the plumbless grave, calling out for more</div> -<div>Money to flounce his daughters' gowns or clothe his spouse's hide,</div> -<div>Money so that his sons can learn to gamble, shoot, and ride;</div> -<div>And for every debt of honour paid and for every dress and frill,</div> -<div>The blood of the peasant's wife and child goes out to meet the bill."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>The Song of the Glen People</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I was nearly twelve years old when Dan, my youngest brother, died. It -was in the middle of winter, and he was building a snow-man in front of -the half-door when he suddenly complained of a pain in his throat. -Mother put him to bed and gave him a drink of hot milk. She did not send -for the doctor because there was no money in the house to pay the bill. -Dan lay in bed all the evening and many of the neighbours came in to see -him. Towards midnight I was sent to bed, but before going I heard my -father ask mother if she thought that Dan would live till morning. I -could not sleep, but kept turning over in the bed and praying to the -Blessed Virgin to save my little brother. The new moon, sharp as a -scythe, was peeping through the window of my room when my mother came to -my bed and told me to rise and kiss Dan for the last time. She turned -her face away as she spoke, and I knew that she was weeping. My brother -was lying on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>wide-staring eyes. -A crimson flush was on his face and his breath pained him. I bent down -and pressed his cheek. I was afraid, and the kiss made my lips burn like -fire. The three of us then stood together and my father shook the holy -water all over the room. All at once Dan sat up in the bed and gripped a -tight hold of the blankets. I wanted to run out of the room but my -mother would not let me.</p> - -<p>"Are ye wantin' anything?" asked my father, bending over the bed, but -there was no answer. My brother fell back on the bed and his face got -very white.</p> - -<p>"Poor Dan is no more," said my father, the tears coming out of his eyes. -'Twas the first time I ever saw him weeping, and I thought it very -strange. My mother went to the window and opened it in order to let the -soul of my brother go away to heaven.</p> - -<p>"It is all in the hands of God," she said. "He is only taking back what -He sent us."</p> - -<p>There was silence in the room for a long while. My father and mother -wept, and I was afraid of something which was beyond my understanding.</p> - -<p>"Will Dan ever come back again?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Hush, dearie!" said my mother.</p> - -<p>"It will take a lot of money to bury the poor boy," said my father. "It -costs a good penny to rear one, but it's a bad job when one is taken -away."</p> - -<p>I had once seen an old woman buried—"Old Nan," the beggarwoman. For -many years she had passed up and down Glenmornan Road, collecting -bottles and rags, which she paid for in blessings and afterwards sold -for pence. Being wrinkled, heavy-boned, and bearded like a man, everyone -said that she was a witch. One summer Old Nan died, and two days later -she was carried to the little graveyard. I played truant from school and -followed the sweating men who were carrying the coffin on their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> -shoulders. They seemed to be well-pleased when they came in sight of the -churchyard and the cold silent tombstones.</p> - -<p>"The old witch was as heavy as lead," I heard the bearers say.</p> - -<p>They set down their burden and dug a hole in the soft earth, throwing up -black clay and white bones to the surface with their shovels. The bones -looked like those of sheep which die on the hills and are left to rot. -The air was heavy with the humming of bees, and a little brook sang a -soft song of its own as it hurried past the graveyard wall. The upturned -earth had a sickly smell like mildewed corn. Some of the diggers knew -whose bone this was and whose that was, but they had a hard argument -about a thigh-bone before Old Nan was put into the earth. Some said that -the thigh-bone belonged to old Farley Kelly, who had died many years -before, and others said that it belonged to Farley's wife. I thought it -a curious thing that people could not know the difference between a man -and a woman when dead. While the men were discussing the thigh-bone it -was left lying on the black clay which fringed the mouth of the grave, -and a long earth-worm crawled across it. A man struck at the worm with -his spade and broke the bone into three pieces. The worm was cut in two, -and it fell back into the grave while one of the diggers threw the -splinters of bone on top of it. Then they buried Old Nan, and everyone -seemed very light-hearted over the job. Why shouldn't they feel merry? -She was only an old witch, anyhow. But I did not feel happy. The grave -looked a cold cheerless place and the long crawling worms were ugly.</p> - -<p>So our poor Dan would go down into the dark earth like Old Nan, the -witch! The thought frightened me, and I began to cry with my father and -mother, and we were all three weeping still, but more quietly, when the -first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> dim light of the lonely dawn came stealing through the window -panes.</p> - -<p>Two old sisters, Martha and Bride, lived next door. My mother asked me -to go out and tell them about Dan's death. I ran out quickly, and I -found both women up and at work washing dishes beside the dresser. -Martha had a tin basin in her hand, and she let it drop to the floor -when I delivered my message. Bride held a jug, and it seemed for a -moment that she was going to follow her sister's example, but all at -once she called to mind that the jug was made of delft, so she placed it -on the dresser, and both followed me back to my home. Once there they -asked many questions about Dan, his sickness and how he came to die. -When they had heard all, they told of several herbs and charms which -would have cured the illness at once. Dandelion dipped in rock water, or -bogbine<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> boiled for two hours in the water of the marsh from which it -was plucked, would have worked wonders. Also seven drops of blood from a -cock that never crowed, or the boiled liver of a rabbit that never -crossed a white road, were the very best things to give to a sick -person. So they said, and when Bride tried to recollect some more -certain cures Martha kept repeating the old ones until I was almost -tired of listening to her voice.</p> - -<p>"Why did ye not take in the docthor?" asked Martha.</p> - -<p>"We had no money in the house," said my mother.</p> - -<p>"An' did ye not sell half a dozen sheep at the fair the day afore -yesterday?" asked Bride. "I'm sure that ye got a good penny for them -same sheep."</p> - -<p>"We did that," said my mother; "but the money is for the landlord's rent -and the priest's tax."</p> - -<p>At that time the new parish priest, the little man with the pot-belly -and the shiny false teeth, was building a grand new house. Farley -McKeown had given five hundred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> pounds towards the cost of building, -which up to now amounted to one thousand five hundred pounds. So the -people said, but they were not quite sure. The cost of building was not -their business, that was the priest's; all the people had to do was to -pay their tax, which amounted to five pounds on every family in the -parish. They were allowed five years in which to pay it. On two -occasions my father was a month late in paying the money and the priest -put a curse on him each time. So my father said. I have only a very -faint recollection of these things which took place when I was quite a -little boy.</p> - -<p>"God be good to us! but five pounds is a heavy tax for even a priest to -put on poor people," said Bride.</p> - -<p>"It's not for us to say anything against a priest, no matter what he -does," said my father, crossing himself.</p> - -<p>"I don't care what ye say, Michael Flynn," said the old woman; "five -pounds is a big tax to pay. The priest is spending three hundred gold -sovereigns in making a lava-thury (lavatory). Three hundred sovereigns! -that's a waste of money."</p> - -<p>"Lava-thury?" said my mother. "And what would that be at all?"</p> - -<p>"It's myself that does not know," answered Bride. "But old Oiney Dinchy -thinks that it is a place for keeping holy water."</p> - -<p>"Poor wee Dan," said Martha, looking at the white face in the bed. "It's -the hard way that death has with it always. He was a lively boy only -three days ago. Wasn't it then that he came over to our house and tied -the dog's tail to the bundle of yarn that just came from Farley -McKeown's. I was angry with the dear little rascal, too; God forgive -me!"</p> - -<p>Then Martha and Bride began to cry together, one keeping time with the -other, but when my mother got ready some tea they sat down and drank a -great deal of it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>A great number of neighbours came in during the day. They all said -prayers by Dan's bedside, then they drank whisky and tea and smoked my -father's tobacco. For two nights my dead brother was waked. Every day -fresh visitors came, and for these my father had to buy extra food, -snuff, and tobacco, so that the little money in his possession was -sliding through his fingers like water in a sieve.</p> - -<p>On the day of the funeral Dan went to the grave in a little deal box -which my father himself fashioned. They would not let me go and see the -burial.</p> - -<p>In the evening when my parents came back their eyes were red as fire and -they were still crying. We sat round the peat blaze and Dan's stool was -left vacant. We expected that he would return at any moment. We children -could not understand the strange silent thing called Death. The oil lamp -was not lighted. There was no money in the house to pay for oil.</p> - -<p>"There's very little left now," said my mother late that night, as I was -turning in to bed. She was speaking to my father. "Wasn't there big -offerings?" she asked.</p> - -<p>Everybody who comes to a Catholic funeral in Donegal pays a shilling to -the priest who conducts the burial service, and the nearest blood -relation always pays five shillings, and is asked to give more if he can -afford it. Money lifted thus is known as offerings, and all goes to the -priest, who takes in hand to shorten the sufferings of the souls in -Purgatory.</p> - -<p>"Eight pounds nine shillings," said my father. "It's a big penny. The -priest was talking to me, and says that he wants another pound for his -new house at once. I'm over three weeks behind, and if he puts a curse -on me this time what am I to do at all, at all?"</p> - -<p>"What you said is the only thing to be done," my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> mother said. I did not -understand what these words meant, and I was afraid to ask a question.</p> - -<p>"It's the only thing to be done," she remarked again, and after that -there was a long silence.</p> - -<p>"Dermod, asthor<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>!" she said all at once. "Come next May, ye must go -beyont the mountains to push yer fortune, pay the priest, and make up -the rent for the Hallow E'en next coming."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Marsh trefoil.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Darling.</p></div></div> - -<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">THE SLAVE MARKET</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"My mother's love for me is warm,</div> -<div class="i2">Her house is cold and bare,</div> -<div>A man who wants to see the world</div> -<div class="i2">Has little comfort there;</div> -<div>And there 'tis hard to pay the rent,</div> -<div class="i2">For all you dig and delve,</div> -<div>But there's hope beyond the Mountains</div> -<div class="i2">For a little Man of Twelve."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>The Man of Twelve</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When the following May came round, I had been working at the -turnip-thinning with a neighbouring man, and one evening I came back to -my own home in the greyness of the soft dusk. It had been a long day's -work, from seven in the morning to nine of the clock at night. A boy can -never have too much time to himself and too little to do, but I was kept -hard at work always, and never had a moment to run about the lanes or -play by the burns with other children. Indeed, I did not care very much -for the company of boys of my own age. Because I was strong for my years -I despised them, and in turn I was despised by the youths who were older -than myself. "Too-long-for-your-trousers" they called me, and I believe -that I merited the nickname, for I wished ever so much to grow up -quickly and be able to carry a creel of peat like Jim Scanlon, or drive -a horse and cart with Ned O'Donnel, who lived next door but one to my -father's house.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I would go out for a walk with these two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> men on a Sunday -afternoon, that is, if they allowed me to accompany them. I listened -eagerly to every word spoken by them and used to repeat their remarks -aloud to myself afterwards. Sometimes I would speak like them in my own -home.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it a shame the way Connel Diver of the hill treats his wife," I -said to my father and mother one day. "He goes out in the evening and -courts Widow Breslin when he should stay at home with his own woman."</p> - -<p>"Dermod, asthor! What puts them ideas into yer head?" asked my mother. -"What d'ye know abot Connel Diver and the Widow Breslin?"</p> - -<p>"It's them two vagabonds, Micky's Jim and Dinchy's Ned, that's tellin' -him these things," said my father; "but let me never catch him goin' out -of the door with any of the pair of them again."</p> - -<p>Whatever was the reason of it, I liked the company of the two youths a -great deal more afterwards.</p> - -<p>On this May evening, as I was saying, I came back from the day's work -and found my mother tying all my spare clothes into a large brown -handkerchief.</p> - -<p>"Ye're goin' away beyont the mountains in the mornin', Dermod," she -said. "Ye have to go out and push yer fortune. We must get some money to -pay the rent come Hallow E'en, and as ye'll get a bigger penny workin' -with the farmers away there, me and yer da have thought of sendin' ye to -the hirin'-fair of Strabane on the morra."</p> - -<p>I had been dreaming of this journey for months before, and I never felt -happier in all my life than I did when my mother spoke these words. I -clapped my hands with pure joy, danced in front of the door, and threw -my cap into the air.</p> - -<p>"Are ye not sorry at leavin' home?" my mother asked, and from her manner -of speaking I knew that she was not pleased to see me so happy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>"What would I be sorry for?" I asked, and ran off to tell Micky's Jim -about the journey which lay before me the next morning. Didn't I feel -proud, too, when Micky's Jim, who had spent many seasons at the potato -digging in Scotland, shook hands with me just the same as if I had been -a full-grown man. Indeed, I felt that I was a man when I returned to my -own doorstep and saw the preparations that were being made for my -departure. Everyone was hard at work, my sisters sewing buttons on my -clothes, my mother putting a new string in the <i>Medal of the Sacred -Heart</i> which I had to wear around my neck when far away from her -keeping, and my father hammering nails into my boots so that they would -last me through the whole summer and autumn.</p> - -<p>That night when we were on our knees at the Rosary, I mumbled through my -prayers, made a mistake in the number of <i>Hail Marys</i>, and forgot -several times to respond to the prayers of the others. No one said a -word of reproof, and I felt that I had become a very important person. I -thought that my mother wept during the prayers, but of this I was not -quite certain.</p> - -<p class="space-above">"Rise up, Dermod," said my mother, touching me on the shoulder next -morning. "The white arm of the dawn is stealin' over the door, and it is -time ye were out on yer journey."</p> - -<p>I took my breakfast, but did not feel very hungry. At the last moment my -mother looked through my bundle to see if I had everything which I -needed, then, with my father's blessings and my mother's prayers, I went -out from my people in the grey of the morning.</p> - -<p>A pale mist was rising off the braes as I crossed the wooden bridge that -lay between my home and the leading road to Greenanore. There was hardly -a move in the wind, and the green grass by the roadside was heavy with -drops<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> of dew. Under the bridge a salmon jumped, all at once, breaking -the pool into a million strips of glancing water. As I leant over the -rails I could see, far down, a large trout waving his tail in slow easy -sweeps and opening and closing his mouth rapidly as if he was out of -breath. He was almost the colour of the sand on which he was lying.</p> - -<p>I stopped for a moment at the bend of the road, and looked back at my -home. My father was standing at the door waving his hand, and I saw my -mother rub her eyes with the corner of her apron. I thought that she was -crying, but I did not trouble myself very much about that, for I knew -women are very fond of weeping. I waved my hand over my head, then I -turned round the corner and went out of their sight, feeling neither -sorry nor afraid.</p> - -<p>I met Norah Ryan on the road. She had been my schoolmate, and when we -were in the class together I had liked to look at her soft creamy skin -and grey eyes. She always put me in mind of pictures of angels that were -hung on the walls of the little chapel in the village. Her mother was -going to send her into a convent when she left school—so the neighbours -said.</p> - -<p>"Where are ye for this morning, Dermod Flynn?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Beyond the mountains," I told her.</p> - -<p>"Ye'll not come back for a long while, will ye?"</p> - -<p>I said that I would never come back, just to see how she took it, and I -was very vexed when she just laughed and walked on. I felt sorrier -leaving her than leaving anyone else whom I knew, and I stood and looked -back after her many, many times, but she never turned even to bid me -good-bye.</p> - -<p>On the road several boys and girls, all bound for the hiring market of -Strabane, joined me. When we were all together there was none amongst us -over fourteen years of age. The girls carried their boots in their -hands. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> were so used to running barefooted on the moors that they -found themselves more comfortable walking along the gritty road in that -manner. While journeying to the station they sang out bravely, all -except one girl, who was crying, but no one paid very much heed to her. -A boy of fourteen who was one of the party had been away before. His -shoulders were very broad, his legs were twisted and his body was all -awry. Some said that he was born in a frost and that he got slewed in a -thaw. He smoked a short clay pipe which he drew from his mouth when the -girls started singing.</p> - -<p>"Sing away now, ye will!" he cried. "Ye'll not sing much afore ye're -long away." For all that he was singing louder than any three of the -party himself before we arrived at the railway station.</p> - -<p>The platform was crowded. I saw youngsters who had come a distance of -twelve miles and who had been travelling all night. They looked worn out -and sleepy. With some of the children fathers and mothers came.</p> - -<p>"We are goin' to drive a hard bargain with the masters," some of the -parents said.</p> - -<p>"Some of them won't bring in a good penny because they're played out on -the long tramp to the station," said others.</p> - -<p>They meant no disrespect for their children, but their words put me in -mind of the manner of speaking of drovers who sell bullocks at the -harvest-fair of Greenanore.</p> - -<p>There was a rush for seats when the train came in and nearly every -carriage became crowded in an instant. There were over twenty in my -compartment, some standing, a few sitting, but most of us trying to look -out of the windows. Next to us was a first-class carriage, and I noticed -that it contained only one single person. I had never been in a railway -train before and I knew very little about things.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>"Why is there only one man in there, while twenty of us are crammed in -here?" I asked the boy with the clay pipe, for he happened to be beside -me.</p> - -<p>My friend looked at me with the pride of one who knows.</p> - -<p>"Shure, ye know nothin'," he answered. "That man's a gintleman."</p> - -<p>"I would like to be a gintleman," I said in all simplicity.</p> - -<p>"Ye a gintleman!" roared the boy. "Ye haven't a white shillin' between -ye an' the world an' ye talk as if ye were a king. A gintleman, indeed! -What put that funny thought into yer head, Dermod Flynn?"</p> - -<p>After a while the boy spoke again.</p> - -<p>"D'ye know who that gintleman is?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know at all," I answered.</p> - -<p>"That's the landlord who owns yer father's land and many a broad acre -forbye."</p> - -<p>Then I knew what a gentleman really was. He was the monster who grabbed -the money from the people, who drove them out to the roadside, who took -six ears of every seven ears of corn produced by the peasantry; the man -who was hated by all men, yet saluted on the highways by most of the -people when they met him. He had taken the money which might have saved -my brother's life, and it was on account of him that I had now to set -out to the Calvary of mid-Tyrone. I went out on the platform again and -stole a glance at the man. He was small, thin-lipped, and ugly-looking. -I did not think much of him, and I wondered why the Glenmornan people -feared him so much.</p> - -<p class="space-above">We stood huddled together like sheep for sale in the market-place of -Strabane. Over our heads the town clock rang out every passing quarter -of an hour. I had never in my life before seen a clock so big. I felt -tired and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> placed my bundle on the kerbstone and sat down upon it. A -girl, one of my own country-people, looked at me.</p> - -<p>"Sure, ye'll never get a man to hire ye if ye're seen sitting there," -she said.</p> - -<p>I got up quickly, feeling very much ashamed to know that a girl was able -to teach me things. It wouldn't have mattered so much if a boy had told -me.</p> - -<p>There was great talk going on about the Omagh train. The boys who had -been sold at the fair before said that the best masters came from near -the town of Omagh, and so everyone waited eagerly until eleven o'clock, -the hour at which the train was due.</p> - -<p>It was easy to know when the Omagh men came, for they overcrowded an -already big market. Most of them were fat, angry-looking fellows, who -kept moving up and down examining us after the manner of men who seek -out the good and bad points of horses which they intend to buy.</p> - -<p>Sometimes they would speak to each other, saying that they never saw -such a lousy and ragged crowd of servants in the market-place in all -their life before, and they did not seem to care even if we overheard -them say these things. On the whole I had no great liking for the Omagh -men.</p> - -<p>A big man with a heavy stomach came up to me.</p> - -<p>"How much do ye want for the six months?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Six pounds," I told him.</p> - -<p>"Shoulders too narrow for the money," he said, more to himself than to -me, and walked on.</p> - -<p>Standing beside me was an old father, who had a son and daughter for -sale. The girl looked pale and sickly. She had a cough that would split -a rock.</p> - -<p>"Arrah, an' will ye whisth that coughin'!" said her brother, time and -again. "Sure, ye know that no wan will give ye wages if ye go on in that -way."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>The father never spoke. I suppose he felt that there was nothing to be -said. During one of these fits of coughing an evil-faced farmer who was -looking for a female servant came around and asked the old man what -wages did he want for his daughter.</p> - -<p>"Five pounds," said the old man, and there was a tremble in his voice -when he spoke.</p> - -<p>"And maybe the cost of buryin' her," said the farmer with a white laugh -as he passed on his way.</p> - -<p>High noon had just passed when a youngish man, curiously old in -appearance, stood in front of me. His shoulders were very broad, and one -of them was far higher than the other. His waist was slender like a -girl's, but his buttocks were heavy out of all proportion to his thin -waist and slim slivers of shanks.</p> - -<p>"Six pounds!" he repeated when I told him what wages I desired. "It's a -big penny to give a wee man. I'll give ye a five-pound note for the six -months and not one white sixpence more."</p> - -<p>He struck me on the back while he spoke as if to test the strength of my -spine, then ran his fingers over my shoulder and squeezed the thick of -my arm so tightly that I almost roared in his face with the pain of it. -After a long wrangle I wrung an offer of five pounds ten shillings for -my wages and I was his for six months to come.</p> - -<p>"Now gi' me your bundle and come along," he said.</p> - -<p>I handed him my parcel of clothes and followed him through the streets, -leaving the crowd of wrangling masters and obdurate boys fighting over -final sixpences behind me. My master kept talking most of the time, and -this was how he kept going on.</p> - -<p>"What is yer name? Dermod Flynn? A Papist?—all Donegals are Papists. -That doesn't matter to me, for if ye're a good willin' worker me and ye -'ill get on grand. I suppose ye'll have a big belly. It'll be hard to -fill. Are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> ye hungry now? I suppose yer teeth will be growin' long with -starvation, so I'll see if I can get ye anything to ate."</p> - -<p>We turned up a little side street, passed under a low archway and went -into an inn kitchen, where a young woman with a very red face was -bending over a frying-pan on which she was turning many thick slices of -bacon. The odour caused my stomach to feel empty.</p> - -<p>"This is a new cub that I got, Mary," said the man to the servant. "He's -a Donegal like yerself and he's hungry. Give him some tay and bread."</p> - -<p>"And some butter," added Mary, looking at me.</p> - -<p>"How much is the butter extra?" asked my master.</p> - -<p>"Tuppence," said Mary.</p> - -<p>"I don't think that this cub cares for butter. D'ye?" he asked, turning -to me.</p> - -<p>"I like butter," I said.</p> - -<p>"Who'd have thought of that, now?" he said, and he did not look at all -pleased. "Ye can wait here," he continued, "and I'll come back for ye in -a wee while and the two of us can go along to my farm together."</p> - -<p>He went out and left me alone with the servant. As he passed the window, -on his way to the street, Mary put her thumb to her nose and spread her -fingers out towards him.</p> - -<p>"I hate Orangemen," she said to me; "and that pig of a Bennet is wan of -the worst of the breedin'. Ah, the old slobber-chops! See and keep up -yer own end of the house with him, anyhow, and never let the vermint -tramp over you."</p> - -<p>She made ready a pot of tea, gave me some bread and butter and two -rashers of bacon.</p> - -<p>"Ate yer hearty fill now, Dermod," said the good-natured girl; "for -ye'll not get a dacent male for the next six months."</p> - -<p>And I didn't.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">BOYNE WATER AND HOLY WATER</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Since two can't gain in the bargain,</div> -<div class="i2">Then who shall bear the loss</div> -<div>When little children are auctioned</div> -<div class="i2">As slaves at the Market Cross?</div> -<div>Come to the Cross and the Market,</div> -<div class="i2">Where the wares of the world are sold,</div> -<div>And the wares are little children,</div> -<div class="i2">Traded for pieces of gold."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>Good Bargains</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>My master's name was Bennet—Joe Bennet. He owned a farm of some eighty -acres and kept ten milch cows, two cart-horses, and twenty sheep. He -possessed a spring-cart, but he seldom used it. It had been procured at -one time for taking the family to church, but they were ashamed to put -any of the cart-horses between the shafts, and no wonder. One of the -horses was spavined and the other was covered with angleberries.</p> - -<p>He brought me home from Strabane on the old cart drawn by the spavined -horse, and though it was well past midnight when we returned I had to -wash the vehicle before I turned into bed. My supper consisted of -buttermilk and potatoes, which were served up on the table in the -kitchen. The first object that encountered my eye was a large picture of -<i>King William Crossing the Boyne</i>, hung from a nail over the fireplace -and almost brown with age. I hated the picture from the moment I set -eyes on it, and though my dislikes are short-lived they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> are intense -while they last. This picture almost assumed an orange tint before I -left, and many a time I used to spit at it out of pure spite when left -alone in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>The household consisted of five persons, Bennet, his father and mother, -and two sisters. He was always quarrelling with his two sisters, who, in -addition to being wasp-waisted and spider-shanked, were peppery-tongued -and salt-tempered, but he never got the best of the argument. The two -hussies could talk the head off a drum. The old father was half-doting, -and he never spoke to anybody but me. He sat all day in the -chimney-corner, rubbing one skinny hand over the other, and kicking the -dog if ever it happened to draw near the fire. When he spoke to me it -was to point out some fault which I had committed at my work.</p> - -<p>The woman of the house was bent like the rim of a dish from constant -stooping over her work. She got up in the morning before anyone else and -trudged about in the yard all day, feeding the hens, washing the linen, -weeding the walk or seeing after the cows. I think that she had a liking -for me. One day when I was working beside her in the cabbage patch she -said these words to me:</p> - -<p>"It's a pity you're a Papist, Dermod."</p> - -<p>I suppose she meant it in good part, but her talk made me angry.</p> - -<p>My bedroom was placed on the second floor, and a rickety flight of -stairs connected the apartment with the kitchen. My room was comfortable -enough when the weather was good, but when it was wet the rain often -came in by the roof and soaked through my blankets. But the hard work on -Bennet's farm made me so tired that a wet blanket could not keep me from -sleeping. In the morning I was called at five o'clock and sent out to -wash potatoes in a pond near the house. Afterwards they were boiled in a -pot over the kitchen fire, and when cooked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> they were eaten by the pigs -and me. I must say that I was allowed to pick the best potatoes for -myself, and I got a bowl of buttermilk to wash them down. The pigs got -buttermilk also. This was my breakfast during the six months. For dinner -I had potatoes and buttermilk, for supper buttermilk and potatoes. I -never got tea in the afternoon. The Bennets took tea themselves, but I -suppose they thought that such a luxury was unnecessary for me.</p> - -<p>I always went down on my knees at the bedside to say my prayers. I knew -that young Bennet did not like this, so I always left my door wide open -that he might see me praying as he passed by on the way to his own -bedroom.</p> - -<p>From the moment of my arrival I began to realise that the Country beyond -the Mountains, as the people at home call Tyrone, was not the best place -in the world for a man of twelve. Sadder than that it was for me to -learn that I was not worthy of the name of man at all. Many and many a -time did Bennet say that he was paying me a man's wages while I was only -fit for a child's work. Sometimes when carrying burdens with him I would -fall under the weight, and upon seeing this he would discard his own, -run forward, and with arms on hips, wait until I rose from the ground -again.</p> - -<p>"Whoever saw such a thing!" he would say and shake his head. "I thought -that I got a man at the hirin'-fair." He drawled out his words slowly as -if each one gave him pleasure in pronouncing it. He affected a certain -weariness in his tones to me by which he meant to imply that he might, -as a wise man, have been prepared for such incompetency on my part. "I -thought that I had a man! I thought that I had a man!" he would keep -repeating until I rose to my feet. Then he would return to his own -burden and wait until my next stumble, when he would repeat the same -performance all over again.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>Being a Glenmornan man, I held my tongue between my teeth, but the -eternal persecution was wearing me down. By nature being generous and -impulsive, I looked with kindly wonder on everything and everybody. I -loved my brothers and sisters, honoured my father and mother, liked the -neighbours in my own townland, and they always had a kind word for me, -even when working for them at so much a day. But Bennet was a man whom I -did not understand. To him I was not a human being, a boy with an -appetite and a soul. I was merely a ware purchased in the market-place, -something less valuable than a plough, and of no more account than a -barrow. I felt my position from the first. I, to Bennet, represented -five pounds ten shillings' worth of goods bought at the market-place, -and the buyer wanted, as a business man, to have his money's worth. The -man was, of course, within his rights; everybody wants the worth of -their money, and who was I, a boy bought for less than a spavined horse, -to rail against the little sorrows which Destiny imposed upon me? I was -only an article of exchange, something which represented so much amidst -the implements and beasts of the farm; but having a heart and soul I -felt the position acutely.</p> - -<p>I worked hard whenever Bennet remained close by me, but I must admit -that I idled a lot of the time when he was away from my side. Somehow I -could not help it.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was working all alone on the Dooish Mountain, making rikkles -of peat. There were rag-nails on my fingers, I was hungry and my feet -were sore. I seemed to be always hungry. Potatoes and buttermilk do not -make the best meal in the world, and for six of every seven days they -gave me the heartburn. Sometimes I would stand up and bite a rag-nail -off my finger while watching a hare scooting across the brown of the -moor. Afterwards a fox might come into view, showing clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> on the -horizon against the blue of the sky. The pain that came into the small -of my back when stooping over the turf-pile would go away. There was -great relief in standing straight, although Bennet said that a man -should never stand at his work. And there was I, who believed myself a -man, standing over my work like a child and watching foxes and hares -while I was biting the rag-nails off my fingers. No sensible man would -be seen doing such things.</p> - -<p>At one moment a pack of moor-fowl would rise and chatter wildly over my -head, then drop into the heather again. At another a wisp of snipe would -suddenly shoot across the sky, skimming the whole stretch of bogland -almost as quickly as the eye that followed it. Just when I was on the -point of restarting my work, a cast of hawks might come down from the -highest reach of the mountain and rest immovable for hours in the air -over my head. It strains the neck to gaze up when standing. Naturally I -would lie down on my back and watch the hawks for just one little while -longer. Minutes would slip into hours, and still I would lie there -watching the kindred of the wild as they worked out the problems of -their lives in their several different ways. Meanwhile I kept rubbing -the cold moss over my hacked hands in order to drive the pain out of -them. When Bennet came round in the evening to see my day's work he -would stand for a moment regarding the rikkles of peat with a critical -stare. Then he would look at me with pity in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"If yer hands were as eager for work as yer stomach is for food I'd be a -happy master this day," he would say, in a low weary voice. "I once -thought that ye were a man, but such a mistake, such a mistake!"</p> - -<p>Ofttime when working by the stream in the bottomlands, I would lay down -my hay-rake or shearing hook and spend an hour or two looking at the -brown trout as they darted over the white sand at the bottom of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -quiet pools. Sometimes I would turn a pin, put a berry on it and throw -it into the water. I have caught trout in that fashion many a time. -Bennet came across me fishing one day and he gave me a blow on the -cheek. I did not hit him back; I felt afraid of him. Although twelve -years of age, I don't think that I was much of a man after all. If -anybody struck Micky's Jim in such a manner he would strike back as -quickly as he could raise his fist. But I could not find courage to -tighten my knuckles and go for my man. When he turned away from me, my -eyes followed his ungainly figure till it was well out of sight. Then I -raised my fist and shook it in his direction.</p> - -<p>"I'll give you one yet, my fine fellow, that will do for you!" I cried.</p> - -<p>Although I idled when alone in the fields I always kept up my own end of -the stick when working with others. I was a Glenmornan man, and I -couldn't have it said that any man left me behind in the work of the -fields. When I fell under a burden no person felt the pain as much as -myself. A man from my town should never let anything beat him. When he -cannot carry his burden like other men, and better than other men, it -cuts him to the heart, and on almost every occasion when I stumbled and -fell I almost wished that I could die on the bare ground whereon I -stumbled. But every day I felt that I was growing stronger, and when -Lammastide went by I thought that I was almost as strong even as my -master. When alone I would examine the muscles of my arms, press them, -rub them, contract them and wonder if I was really as strong of arm as -Joe Bennet himself. When I worked along with him in the meadowlands and -corn-fields he tried to go ahead of me at the toil; but for all he tried -he could not leave me behind. I was a Glenmornan man, proud of my own -townland, and for its sake and for the sake of my own people and for the -sake of my own name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> I was unwilling to be left behind by any human -being. "A Glenmornan man can always handspike his own burden," was a -word with the men at home, and as a Glenmornan man I was jealous of my -own town's honour.</p> - -<p>'Twas good to be a Glenmornan man. The pride of it pulled me through my -toil when my bleeding hands, my aching back and sore feet well nigh -refused to do their labour, and that same pride put the strength of -twenty-one into the spine of the twelve-year-old man. But God knows that -the labour was hard! The journey upstairs to bed after the day's work -was a monstrous futility, and often I had hard work to restrain from -weeping as I crawled weakly into bed with maybe boots and trousers still -on. Although I had not energy enough remaining to take off my clothes I -always went on my knees and prayed before entering the bed, and once or -twice I read books in my room even. Let me tell you of the book which -interested me. It was a red-covered volume which I picked up from some -rubbish that lay in the corner of the room, and was called the <i>History -of the Heavens</i>. I liked the story of the stars, the earth, the sun and -planets, and I sat by the window for three nights reading the book by -the light of the moon, for I never was allowed the use of a candle. In -those nights I often said to myself: "Dermod Flynn, the heavens are -sending you light to read their story."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">A MAN OF TWELVE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'Why d'ye slouch beside yer work when I am out o' sight?'</div> -<div>'I'm hungry, an' an empty sack can never stand upright.'"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="center">* * * * *</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'Stoop to yer work, ye idle cub; ye slack for hours on end.'</div> -<div>'I've eaten far too much the day. A full sack cannot bend.'"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>Farmyard Folly</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>About a week after, on the stroke of eleven at night, I was washing -potatoes for breakfast in a pond near the farmhouse. They were now -washed always on the evening before, so that the pigs might get their -meals a little earlier in the morning. Those same pigs were getting -fattened for the Omagh pork market, and they were never refused food. -When they grunted in the sty I was sent out to feed them, when they -slept too long I was sent out to waken them for another meal. Although I -am almost ashamed to say it, I envied those pigs.</p> - -<p>Potato-washing being the last job of the day, I always thought it the -hardest. I sat down beside the basket of potatoes which I had just -washed, and felt very much out of sorts. I was in a far house and a -strange man was my master. I felt a bit homesick and I had a great -longing for my own people. The bodily pain was even worse. My feet were -all blistered; one of my boots pinched my toes and gave me great hurt -when I moved. Both my hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> were hacked, and when I placed them in the -water sharp stitches ran up my arms as far as my shoulders.</p> - -<p>I looked up at the stars above me, and I thought of the wonderful things -which I had read about them in the book picked up by me in my bedroom. -There they were shining, thousands upon thousands of them, above my -head, each looking colder and more distant than the other. And nearly -all of them were larger than our world, larger even than our sun. It was -so very hard to believe it. Then my thoughts turned to the God who -fashioned them, and I wondered in the way that a man of twelve wonders -what was the purpose behind it all. Ever since I could remember I had -prayed to God nightly, and now I suddenly thought that all my prayers -were very weak and feeble. Behind His million worlds what thought would -He have for a ragged dirty plodder like me? Were there men and women on -those worlds, and little boys also who were very unhappy? Had the Son of -God come down and died for men on every world of all His worlds? These -thoughts left me strangely disturbed as I sat there on the brink of the -pond beside my basket. Things were coming into my mind, new thoughts -that almost frightened me, and which I could not thrust away.</p> - -<p>As I sat the voice of Bennet came to me.</p> - -<p>"Hi! man, are ye goin' to sit there all night?" he shouted. "Ye're like -the rest of the Donegal cubs, ye were born lazy."</p> - -<p>I carried the potatoes in, placed them beside the hearth, then dragged -myself slowly upstairs to bed.</p> - -<p>"Ye go upstairs like a dog paralysed in the hindquarters," shouted my -boss from the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Can ye not let the cub a-be?" his mother reproved him, in the aimless -way that mothers reprove grown-up children.</p> - -<p>At the head of the stairs I sat down to take off my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> boots, for a nail -had passed through the leather and was entering the sole of my right -foot. I was so very tired that I fell asleep when untying the laces. A -kick on the ankle delivered by my master as he came up to bed wakened -me.</p> - -<p>"Hook it," he roared, and I slunk into my room, too weary to resent the -insult. I slid into bed, and when falling asleep I suddenly remembered -that I had not said my prayers. I sat up in my bed, but stopped short -when on the point of getting out. Every night since I could remember I -had knelt by my bedside and prayed, but as I sat there in the bed I -thought that I had very little to pray for. I looked at the stars that -shone through the window, and felt defiant and unafraid and very, very -tired.</p> - -<p>"No one cares for me," I said, "not even the God who made me." I bent -down and touched my ankle. It was raw and bleeding where Bennet's nailed -boot had ripped the flesh. I was too tired to be even angry, and I lay -back on the pillows and fell asleep.</p> - -<p>Morning came so suddenly! I thought that I had barely fallen into the -first sleep when I again heard Bennet calling to me to get up and start -work. I did not answer, and he was silent for a moment. I must have -fallen asleep again, for the next thing that I was aware of was my -master's presence in the room. He pulled me out of bed and threw me on -the floor, and kicked me again with his heavy boots. I rose to my feet, -and, mad with anger, for passion seizes me quickly, I hit him on the -belly with my knee. I put all my strength into the blow, and he got very -white and left the room, holding his two hands to his stomach. He never -struck me afterwards, for I believe that he knew I was always waiting -and ready for him. If he hit me again I would stand up to him until he -knocked me stupid; my little victory in the bedroom had given me so much -more courage and belief in my own powers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> In a fight I never know when -I am beaten; even as a child I did not know the meaning of defeat, and I -have had many a hard fight since I left Glenmornan, every one of which -went to prove what I have said. Anyhow, why should a Glenmornan man, and -a man of twelve to boot, know when he is beaten?</p> - -<p>The bat I gave Bennet did not lessen my heavy toil in the fields. On the -contrary, the man kept closer watch over me and saw that I never had an -idle moment. Even my supply of potatoes was placed under restriction.</p> - -<p>Bennet caused me to feed the pigs before I took my own breakfast, and if -a pig grunted while I was eating he would look at me with the eternal -eyes of reproach.</p> - -<p>"Go out and give that pig something more to eat," he would say. "Don't -eat all yerself. I never saw such a greedy-gut as ye are."</p> - -<p>One day I had a good feed; I never enjoyed anything so much in all my -life, I think. A sort of Orange gathering took place in Omagh, and all -the Bennets went. Even the old grizzled man left his seat by the -chimney-corner, and took his place on the spring-cart drawn by the -spavined mare. They told me to work in the fields until they came back, -but no sooner were their backs turned than I made for the house, -intending to have at least one good feed in the six months. I made -myself a cup of tea, opened the pantry door, and discovered a delightful -chunk of currant cake. I took a second cup of tea along with the cake. I -opened the pantry door by inserting a crooked nail in the lock, but I -found that I could not close the door again. This did not deter me from -drinking more tea, and I believe that I took upwards of a dozen cups of -the liquid.</p> - -<p>I divided part of the cake with the dog. I could not resist the soft -look in the eyes which the animal fixed on me while I was eating. Before -I became a man, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> I lived in Glenmornan, I wept often over the -trouble of the poor soft-eyed dogs. They have troubles of their own, and -I can understand their little worries. Bennet's dog gave me great help -in disposing of the cake, and when he had finished the meal he nuzzled -up against my leg, which was as much as to say that he was very thankful -for my kindness to him. I got into trouble when the people of the house -returned. They were angry, but what could they do? Bread eaten is like -fallen rain; it can never be put back in its former place.</p> - -<p>Never for a moment did I dream seriously of going home again for a long, -long while. Now and again I wished that I was back for just one moment, -but being a man, independent and unafraid, such a foolish thought never -held me long. I was working on my own without anyone to cheer me, and -this caused me to feel proud of myself and of the work I was doing.</p> - -<p>Once every month I got a letter from home, telling me about the doings -in my own place, and I was always glad to hear the Glenmornan news. Such -and such a person had died, one neighbour had bought two young steers at -the harvest-fair of Greenanore, another had been fined a couple of -pounds before the bench for fishing with a float on Lough Meenarna, and -hundreds of other little items were all told in faithful detail.</p> - -<p>My thoughts went often back, and daily, when dragging through the turnip -drills or wet hay streaks, I built up great hopes of the manner in which -I would go home to my own people in the years to come. I would be very -rich. That was one essential point in the dreams of my return. I would -be big and very strong, afraid of no man and liked by all men. I would -pay a surprise visit to Glenmornan in the night-time when all the lamps -were lit on both sides of the valley. At the end of the boreen I would -stand for a moment and look through the window of my home, and see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> my -father plaiting baskets by the light of the hanging lamp. My mother -would be seated on the hearthstone, telling stories to my little -sisters. (Not for a moment could I dream of them other than what they -were when I saw them last.) Maybe she would speak of Dermod, who was -pushing his fortune away in foreign parts.</p> - -<p>And while they were talking the latch of the door would rise, and I -would stand in the middle of the floor.</p> - -<p>"It's Dermod himself that's in it!" they would all cry in one voice. -"Dermod that's just come back, and we were talking about him this very -minute."</p> - -<p>Dreams like these made up a great part of my life in those days. -Sometimes I would find myself with a job finished, failing to remember -how it was completed. During the whole time I was buried deep in some -dream while I worked mechanically, and at the end of the job I was -usually surprised to find such a large amount of work done.</p> - -<p>I was glad when the end of the term drew near. I hated Bennet and he -hated me, and I would not stop in his service another six months for all -the stock on his farm. I would look for a new master in Strabane -hiring-mart, and maybe my luck would be better next time. I left the -farmhouse with a dislike for all forms of mastery, and that dislike is -firmly engrained in my heart even to this day. The covert sneers, the -insulting jibes, the kicks and curses were good, because they moulded my -character in the way that is best. To-day I assert that no man is good -enough to be another man's master. I hate all forms of tyranny; and the -kicks of Joe Bennet and the weary hours spent in earning the first rent -which I ever paid for my people's croft, were responsible for instilling -that hatred into my being.</p> - -<p>I sent four pounds fifteen shillings home to my parents, and this was -given to the landlord and priest, the man I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> had met six months before -on Greenanore platform and the pot-bellied man with the shiny false -teeth, who smoked ninepenny cigars and paid three hundred pounds for his -lavatory. Years later, when tramping through Scotland, I saw the -landlord motoring along the road, accompanied by his two daughters, who -were about my age. When I saw those two girls I wondered how far the -four pounds fifteen which I earned in blood and sweat in mid-Tyrone went -to decorate their bodies and flounce their hides. I wondered, too, how -many dinners they procured from the money that might have saved the life -of my little brother.</p> - -<p>And as far as I can ascertain the priest lives yet; always imposing new -taxes; shortening the torments of souls in Purgatory at so much a soul; -forgiving sins which have never caused him any inconvenience, and at -word of his mouth sending the peasantry to heaven or to hell.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">OLD MARY SORLEY</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Do that? I would as soon think of robbing a corpse!"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—<span class="smcap">As is said in Glenmornan.</span></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I devoted the fifteen shillings which remained from my wages to my own -use. My boots were well-nigh worn, and my trousers were getting thin at -the knees, but the latter I patched as well as I was able and paid half -a crown to get my boots newly soled. For the remainder of the money I -bought a shirt and some underclothing to restock my bundle, and when I -went out to look for a new master in the slave market of Strabane I had -only one and sevenpence in my pockets.</p> - -<p>I never for a moment thought of keeping all my wages for myself. Such a -wild idea never entered my head. I was born and bred merely to support -my parents, and great care had been taken to drive this fact into my -mind from infancy. I was merely brought into the world to support those -who were responsible for my existence. Often when my parents were -speaking of such and such a young man I heard them say: "He'll never -have a day's luck in all his life. He didn't give every penny he earned -to his father and mother."</p> - -<p>I thought it would be so fine to have all my wages to myself to spend in -the shops, to buy candy just like a little boy or to take a ride on the -swing-boats or merry-go-rounds at the far corner of the market-place. I -would like to do those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> things, but the voice of conscience reproved me -for even thinking of them. If once I started to spend it was hard to -tell when I might stop. Perhaps I would spend the whole one and -sevenpence. I had never in all my life spent a penny on candy or a toy, -and seeing that I was a man I could not begin now. It was my duty to -send my money home, and I knew that if I even spent as much as one penny -I would never have a day's luck in all my life.</p> - -<p>I had grown bigger and stronger, and I was a different man altogether -from the boy who had come up from Donegal six months before. I had a -fight with a youngster at the fair, and I gave him two black eyes while -he only gave me one.</p> - -<p>A man named Sorley, a big loose-limbed rung of a fellow who came from -near Omagh, hired me for the winter term. Together the two of us walked -home at the close of the evening, and it was near midnight when we came -to the house, the distance from Strabane being eight miles. The house -was in the middle of a moor, and a path ran across the heather to the -very door. The path was soggy and miry, and the water squelched under -our boots as we walked along. The night was dark, the country around -looked bleak and miserable, and very few words passed between us on the -long tramp. Once he said that I should like his place, again, that he -kept a lot of grazing cattle and jobbed them about from one market to -another. He also alluded to another road across the moor, one better -than the one taken by us; but it was very roundabout, unless a man came -in from the Omagh side of the country.</p> - -<p>There was an old wrinkled woman sitting at the fire having a shin heat -when we entered the house. She was dry and withered, and kept turning -the live peats over and over on the fire, which is one of the signs of a -doting person. Her flesh resembled the cover of a rabbit-skin purse that -is left drying in the chimney-corner.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>"Have ye got a cub?" she asked my master without as much as a look at -me.</p> - -<p>"I have a young colt of a thing," he answered.</p> - -<p>"They've been at it again," went on the old woman. "It's the brannat cow -this time."</p> - -<p>"We'll have to get away, that's all," said the man. "They'll soon not be -after leavin' a single tail in the byre."</p> - -<p>"Is it me that would be leavin' now?" asked the old woman, rising to her -feet, and the look on her face was frightful to see. "They'll niver put -Mary Sorley out of her house when she put it in her mind to stay. May -the seven curses rest on their heads, them with their Home Rule and -rack-rint and what not! It's me that would stand barefoot on the red-hot -hob of hell before I'd give in to the likes of them."</p> - -<p>Her anger died out suddenly, and she sat down and began to turn the turf -over on the fire as she had been doing when I entered.</p> - -<p>"Maybe ye'd go out and wash their tails a bit," she went on. "And take -the cub with ye to hould the candle. He's a thin cub that, surely," she -said, looking at me for the first time. "He'll be a light horse for a -heavy burden."</p> - -<p>The man carried a pail of water out to the byre, while I followed -holding a candle which I sheltered from the wind with my cap.</p> - -<p>The cattle were kept in a long dirty building, and it looked as if it -had not been cleaned for weeks. There were a number of young bullocks -tied to the stakes along the wall, and most of these had their tails cut -off short and close to the body. A brindled cow stood at one end, and -the blood dripped from her into the sink. The whole tail had been -recently cut away.</p> - -<p>"Why do you cut the tails off the cattle?" I asked Sorley, as he -proceeded to wash the wound on the brindled cow.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"Just to keep them short," he said, stealing a furtive glance at me as -he spoke. I did not ask any further questions, but I could see that he -was telling an untruth. At once I guessed that the farm was boycotted, -and that the peasantry were showing their disapproval of some action of -Sorley's by cutting the tails off his cattle. I wished that moment that -I had gotten another master who was on a more friendly footing with his -neighbours.</p> - -<p>When we returned to the house the old woman was sitting still by the -fire mumbling away to herself at the one thing over and over again.</p> - -<p>"Old Mary Sorley won't be hounded out of her house and home if all the -cattle in me byre was without tails," she said in rambling tones, which -now and again rose to a shriek almost. "What would an old woman like me -be carin' for the band of them? Am I not as good as the tenant that was -here before me, him with his talk of rack-rint and Home Rule? Old Mary -Sorley is goin' to stay here till she leaves the house in a coffin."</p> - -<p>The man and I sat down at a pot of porridge and ate our suppers.</p> - -<p>"Don't take any heed of me mother," he said to me. "It's only dramin' -and dotin' that she is."</p> - -<p>Early next morning I was sent out to the further end of the moor, there -to gather up some sheep and take them back to the farmyard. I met three -men on the way, three rough-looking, angry sort of men. One of them -caught hold of me by the neck and threw me into a bog-hole. I was nearly -drowned in the slush. When I tried to drag myself out, the other two -threw sods on top of me. The moment I pulled myself clear I ran off as -hard as I could.</p> - -<p>"This will teach ye not to work for a boycotted bastard," one of them -called after me, but none of them made any attempt to follow. I ran as -hard as I could until I got to the house. When I arrived there I -informed Sorley of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> that had taken place, and said that I was going -to stop no longer in his service.</p> - -<p>"I had work enough lookin' for a cub," he said; "and I'm no goin' to let -ye run away now."</p> - -<p>"I'm going anyway," I said.</p> - -<p>"Now and will ye?" answered the man, and he took my spare clothes and -hid them somewhere in the house. My bits of clothes were all that I had -between me and the world, and they meant a lot to me. Without them I -would not go away, and Sorley knew that. I had to wait for three days -more, then I got my clothes and left.</p> - -<p>That happened when old Mary Sorley died.</p> - -<p>It was late in the evening. She was left sitting on the hearthstone, -turning the fire over, while Sorley and I went to wash the tails of the -wounded cattle in the byre. My master had forgotten the soap, and he -sent me back to the kitchen for it. I asked the old woman to give it to -me. She did not answer when I spoke, and I went up close to her and -repeated my question. But she never moved. I turned out again and took -my way to the byre.</p> - -<p>"Have ye got it?" asked my master.</p> - -<p>"Your mother has fainted," I answered.</p> - -<p>He ran into the house, and I followed. Between us we lifted the woman -into the bed which was placed in one corner of the kitchen. Her body -felt very stiff, and it was very light. The man crossed her hands over -her breast.</p> - -<p>"Me poor mother's dead," he told me.</p> - -<p>"Is she?" I asked, and went down on my knees by the bedside to say a -prayer for her soul. When on my knees I noticed where my spare clothes -were hidden. They were under the straw of the bed on which the corpse -was lying. I hurried over my prayers, as I did not take much pleasure in -praying for the soul of a boycotted person.</p> - -<p>"I must go to Omagh and get me married sister to come here and help me -for a couple of days," said Sorley when I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> got to my feet again. "Ye can -sit here and keep watch until I come back."</p> - -<p>He went out, saddled the pony, and in a couple of minutes I heard the -clatter of hoofs echoing on the road across the moor. In a little while -the sounds died away, and there I was, all alone with the corpse of old -Mary Sorley.</p> - -<p>I edged my chair into the corner where the two walls met, and kept my -eye on the woman in the bed. I was afraid to turn round, thinking that -she might get up when I was not looking at her. Out on the moor a -restless dog commenced to voice some ancient wrong, and its mournful -howl caused a chill to run down my backbone. Once or twice I thought -that someone was tapping at the window-pane behind me, and feared to -look round lest a horrible face might be peering in. But all the time I -kept looking at the white features of the dead woman, and I would not -turn round for the world. The cat slept beside the fire and never moved.</p> - -<p>The hour of midnight struck on the creaky old wag-of-the-wall, and I -made up my mind to leave the place for good. I wanted my clothes which I -had seen under the straw of the kitchen bed. It was an eerie job to turn -over a corpse at the hour of midnight. The fire was almost out, for I -had placed no peat on it since Sorley left for Omagh. A little wind came -under the door and whirled the pale-grey ashes over the hearthstone.</p> - -<p>I went to the bed and turned the woman over on her side, keeping one -hand against the body to prevent it falling back on me. With the other -hand I drew out my clothes, counting each garment until I had them all. -As soon as I let the corpse go it nearly rolled out on the ground. I -could hardly remove my gaze from the cold quiet thing. The eyes were -wide open all the time, and they looked like icy pools seen on a dark -night. I wrapped my garments up in a handkerchief which was hanging from -a nail in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> bedstock. The handkerchief was not mine. It belonged to -the dead woman, but she would not need it any more. I took it because I -wanted it, and it was the only wages which I should get for my three -days' work on the farm. While I was busy tying my clothes together the -cat rose from the fireplace and jumped into the bed. I suppose it felt -cold by the dying fire. I thought at the time that it would not be much -warmer beside a dead body. From the back of the corpse the animal -watched me for a few minutes, then it fell asleep.</p> - -<p>I took my bundle in my hand, opened the door, and went out into the -darkness, leaving the sleeping cat and the dead woman alone in the -boycotted house. The night was fine and frosty and a smother of cold -stars lay on the face of the heavens. A cow moaned in the byre as I -passed, while the stray dog kept howling miserably away on the middle of -the moor. I took the path that twisted and turned across the bogland, -and I ran. I was almost certain that the corpse was following me, but I -would not turn and look behind for the world. If you turn and look at -the ghost that follows you, it is certain to get in front, and not let -you proceed any further. So they said in Glenmornan.</p> - -<p>After a while I walked slowly. I had already left a good stretch of -ground between me and the house. I could hear the brown grass sighing on -the verge of the black ponds of water. The wind was running along the -ground and it made strange sounds. Far away the pale cold flames of the -will-of-the-wisp flitted backwards and forwards, but never came near the -fringe of the road on which I travelled.</p> - -<p>I heard the rattle of horse's hoofs coming towards me, and I hid in a -clump of bracken until the rider passed by. I knew that it was Sorley on -his way back from Omagh. There was a woman sitting behind him on the -saddle, and when both went out of sight I ran until I came out on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -high-road. Maybe I walked three miles after that, and maybe I walked -more, but at last I came to a haystack by the roadside. I crept over the -dyke, lay down in the hay and fell asleep, my head resting on my little -bundle of clothes.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">A GOOD TIME</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it."</div></div> -<div class="stanza"><div><span class="s18"> </span>—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe</span>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>A watery mid-November sun was peering through a leafless birch tree that -rose near my sleeping-place when I awoke to find a young healthy slip of -a woman looking at me with a pair of large laughing eyes.</p> - -<p>"The top o' the morn to ye, me boy," she said. "Ye're a young cub to be -a beggar already."</p> - -<p>"I'm not a beggar," I answered, getting up to my feet.</p> - -<p>"Ye might be worse now," she replied, making a sort of excuse for her -former remark. "And anyway, it's not a dacent man's bed ye've been lyin' -on all be yerself, me boy." I knew that she was making fun of me, but -for all that I liked the look of her face.</p> - -<p>"Now, where would ye be a-goin' at this time o' the morn?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"That's more than I know myself, good woman," I said. "I have been -working with a man named Sorley, but I left him last night."</p> - -<p>"Matt Sorley, the boycotted man?"</p> - -<p>"The same."</p> - -<p>"Ye'll be a Donegal cub?"</p> - -<p>"That I am," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Ye're a comely lookin' fellow," said the woman. "An' what age may ye -be?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"I'll be thirteen come Christmas," I said proudly.</p> - -<p>"Poor child!" said the woman. "Ye should be in yer own home yet. Was old -Mary Sorley good to ye?"</p> - -<p>"She's dead."</p> - -<p>"Under God the day and the night, and d'ye tell me so!" cried the woman, -and she said a short prayer to herself for the soul of Mary Sorley.</p> - -<p>"She was a bad woman, indeed, but it's wrong to speak an ill word of the -dead," my new friend went on when she had finished her prayer. "Now -where would ye be makin' for next?"</p> - -<p>"That's it," I answered.</p> - -<p>For a moment the woman was deep in thought. "I suppose ye'll be lookin' -for a new place?" she asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>"I am that," I said.</p> - -<p>"I have a half-brother on the leadin' road to Strabane, and he wants a -cub for the winter term," said the woman. "I live in the same house -meself and if ye care ye can come and see him, and I meself will put in -a word in yer favour. His name in James MaCrossan, and he's a good man -to his servants."</p> - -<p>That very minute we set out together. We came to the house of James -MaCrossan, and found the man working in the farmyard. He had a good, -strong, kindly face that was pleasant to look upon. His shirt was open -at the front, and a great hairy chest was visible. His arms, bare almost -to the shoulders, were as hairy as the limbs of a beast, and much -dirtier. His shoes were covered with cow-dung, and he stood stroking a -horse as tenderly as if it had been a young child in the centre of the -yard. His half-sister spoke to him about me, while I stood aside with my -little bundle dangling from my arm. When the woman had finished her -story MaCrossan looked at me with good humour in his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>"And how much wages would ye be wantin'?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Six pounds from now till May-day," I said.</p> - -<p>The man was no stickler over a few shillings. He took me as a servant -there and then at the wages I asked.</p> - -<p>His farm was a good easy one to work on, he and his sister were very -kind to me, and treated me more like one of themselves than a servant. I -lay abed every morning until seven, and on rising I got porridge and -milk, followed by tea, bread and butter, for breakfast. There was no -lack of food, and I grew fatter and happier. I finished my day's work at -eight o'clock in the evening, and could then turn into bed when I liked. -The cows, sheep, and pigs were under my care, MaCrossan worked with the -horses, while Bridgid, his half-sister, did the house-work and milked -the cows. I did not learn to milk, for that is a woman's job. At least, -I thought so in those days. Pulling the soft udder of a cow was not the -proper job for a man like me.</p> - -<p>One day my master came into the byre and asked me if I could milk.</p> - -<p>"No," I answered. "And what is more I don't want to learn. It is not a -manly job."</p> - -<p>MaCrossan merely laughed, and by way of giving me a lesson in manliness, -he lifted me over his head with one wrench of his arm, holding me there -for at least a minute. When he replaced me on the ground I felt very -much ashamed, but the man on seeing this laughed louder than ever. That -night he told the story to his half-sister.</p> - -<p>"Calls milkin' a job for a woman, indeed!" she exclaimed. "The little -rogue of a cub! if I get hold of him."</p> - -<p>With these words she ran laughing after me, and I ran out of the house -into the darkness. Although I knew she was not in earnest I felt a bit -afraid of her. Three times she followed me round the farmyard, but I -managed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> keep out of her reach each time. In the end she returned to -the house.</p> - -<p>"Dermod, come back," she called. "No one will harm ye."</p> - -<p>I would not be caught in such an easy manner, and above all I did not -want the woman to grip me. For an hour I stood in the darkness, then I -slipped through the open window of my bedroom, which was on the ground -floor, and turned into my bed. A few moments afterwards Bridgid came -into the room carrying a lighted candle, and found me under the -blankets. I watched her through the fringe of my eyelashes while -pretending that I was fast asleep.</p> - -<p>"Ha, ye rogue!" she cried. "I have ye now."</p> - -<p>She ran towards me, but still I pretended to be in a deep slumber. I -closed my eyes tightly, but I felt awfully afraid. She drew closer, and -at last I could feel her breath warm on my cheek. But she did not grip -me. Instead, she kissed me on the lips three times, and I was so -surprised that I opened my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ye little shamer! d'ye think that <i>that</i> is a woman's job too?" she -asked, and with these words she ran out of the room.</p> - -<p>I stayed on the farm for nineteen months, and then, though MaCrossan was -a very good master, I set my mind on leaving him. Day and night the -outside world was calling to me, and something lay awaiting for me in -other lands. Maybe I could make more money in foreign parts, and earn a -big pile for myself and my people. Some day, when I had enough and to -spare, I would do great things. There was a waste piece of land lying -near my father's house in Glenmornan, and my people had set their eyes -on it. I would buy that piece of land when I was rolling in money. Oh! -what would I not do when I got rich?</p> - -<p>About once a month I had a letter from mother. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> was not much of a -hand at the pen, and her letters were always short. Most of the time she -wanted money, and I always sent home every penny that I could spare.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I longed to go back again. In a boy's longing way I wanted to -see Norah Ryan, for I liked her well. Her, too, I would remember when I -got rich, and I would make her a great lady. These were some of my -dreams, and they made me hate the look of MaCrossan's farm. Daily I grew -to hate it more, its dirty lanes, the filthy byre, the low-thatched -house, the pigs, cows, horses, and everything about the place. -Everything was always the same, and I was sick of looking at the same -things day after day for all the days of the year.</p> - -<p>My mind was set on leaving MaCrossan, though his half-sister and himself -liked me better than ever a servant was liked before in mid Tyrone. The -thought of leaving them made me uncomfortable, but the voice that called -me was stronger than that which urged me to stay. I had a longing for a -new place, and the longing grew within me day after day. Over the hills, -over the sea, and miles along some dusty road which I had never seen, -some great adventure was awaiting me. Nothing would keep me back, and I -wrote home to my own mother, asking if Micky's Jim wanted any new men to -accompany him to Scotland. Jim was the boss of a potato-digging squad, -and each year a number of Donegal men and women worked with him across -the water.</p> - -<p>Then one fine morning, a week later, and towards the end of June, this -letter came from Micky's Jim himself:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Dermid</span>,</p> - -<p>"i am riting you these few lines to say that i am very well at -present, hoping this leter finds you in the same state of health. -Well, dear Dermid i am gathering up a squad of men and women to -come and work with me beyont the water to dig potatoes in Scotland. -there is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> great lot of the Glenmornan people coming, Tom of the -hill, Neds hugh, Red mick and Norah ryan, Biddy flannery and five -or six more. Well this is to say that if you woud care to come i -will keep a job open for you. Norah ryan, her father was drounded -fishing in Trienna Bay so she is not going to be a nun after all. -If you will come with me rite back and say so. your wages is going -to be sixteen shillings a week accordingley. Steel away from your -master and come to derry peer and meet me there, its on the twenty -ninth of the month that we leave Glenmornan.</p> - -<p class="right">"Yours respectfuly,<span class="s3"> </span><br /> -"<span class="smcap">Jim Scanlon</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">THE LEADING ROAD TO STRABANE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"No more the valley charms me and no more the torrents glisten,</div> -<div>My love is plain and homely and my thoughts are far away;</div> -<div>The great world voice is calling and with throbbing heart I listen,</div> -<div>And I cannot but obey; I cannot but obey."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>Songs of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>On the morning of the twenty-ninth of June, 1905, I left Jim -MaCrossan's, and went out to hoe turnips in a field that lay nearly half -a mile away from the farmhouse. I had taken a hoe from a peg on the wall -of the barn, and had thrown it across my shoulder, when MaCrossan came -up to me.</p> - -<p>"See an' don't be late comin' in for yer dinner, Dermod," he said. -"Ye'll know the time be the sun."</p> - -<p>That was his last speech to me, and I was sorry at leaving him, but for -the life of me I could not tell him of my intended departure. There is -no happiness in leaving those with whom we are happy. I liked MaCrossan -more because of his strength than his kindness. Once he carried an anvil -on his back from Lisnacreight smithy to his own farmhouse, a distance of -four miles. When he brought it home I could not lift it off the ground. -He was a wonderful man, powerful as a giant, good and kindly-spoken. I -liked him so much that I determined to steal away from him. I was more -afraid of his regret than I would be of another man's anger.</p> - -<p>I slung the hoe over my shoulder and whistled a wee tune that came into -my head as I plodded down the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>cart-road that led to the field where the -turnips were. The young bullocks gazed at me over the hedge by the -wayside, and snorted in make-believe anger when I tried to touch their -cold nostrils with my finger-tips. The crows on the sycamore branches -seemed to be very friendly and merry. I could almost have sworn that -they cried, "Good morning, Dermod Flynn," as I passed by.</p> - -<p>The lane was alive with rabbits at every turn. I could see them peering -out from their holes under the blossomed hedgerows with wide anxious -eyes. Sometimes they ran across in front of me, their ears acock and -their white tufts of tails stuck up in the air. I never thought once of -flinging a stone at them that morning; I was out on a bigger adventure -than rabbit-chasing.</p> - -<p>A little way down I met MaCrossan's half-sister, Bridgid. She had just -taken out the cows and was returning to the house after having fastened -the slip rails on the gap of the pasture field.</p> - -<p>"The top o' the mornin' to ye, Dermod," she cried.</p> - -<p>"The same to you," I answered.</p> - -<p>She walked on, but after she had gone a little way, she called back to -me.</p> - -<p>"Will ye be goin' to the dance in McKirdy's barn on Monday come a week?"</p> - -<p>"I will, surely," I replied across my shoulder. I did not look around, -but I could hear the soles of her shoes rustling across the dry clabber -as she continued on her journey.</p> - -<p>The moment I entered the field I flung the hoe into the ditch, and -crossed to the other side of the turnip drills. I put my hand into the -decayed trunk of a fallen tree, and took out a little bundle of clothes -which was concealed there. I had hidden the clothes when I received Jim -Scanlon's letter. I hung the bundle over my arm, and made for the -high-road leading to Strabane. It was nearly three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> hours' walk to the -town, and the morning was grand. I cut a hazel rod to keep me company, -and swung it round in my hand after the manner of cattle-drovers. I went -on my way with long swinging strides, thinking all the time, not of -Micky's Jim and the Land Beyond the Water, but of Norah Ryan whom I -would see on 'Derry Pier with the rest of the potato squad.</p> - -<p>I could have shouted with pure joy to the people who passed me on the -road. Most of them bade me the time of day with the good-natured -courtesy of the Irish people. The red-faced farmer's boy, who sat on the -jolting cart, stopped his sleepy horse for a minute to ask me where I -was bound for.</p> - -<p>"Just to Strabane to buy a new rake," I told him, for grown-up men never -tell their private affairs to other people.</p> - -<p>"Troth, it's for an early harvest that same rake will be," he said, and -flicked his horse on the withers with his whip. Then, having satisfied -his curiosity, he passed beyond the call of my voice for ever.</p> - -<p>A girl who stood with her back to the roses of a roadside cottage gave -me a bowl of milk when I asked for a drink of water. She was a taking -slip of a girl, with soft dreamy eyes and red cherry lips.</p> - -<p>"Where would ye be goin' now?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' to Strabane."</p> - -<p>"And what would ye be doin' there?"</p> - -<p>"My people live there," I said.</p> - -<p>"It's ye that has the Donegal tongue, and be the same token ye're a -great liar," said the girl, and I hurried off.</p> - -<p>A man gave me a lift on the milk-cart for a mile of the way. "Where are -ye goin'?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"To Strabane to buy a new spade," I told him.</p> - -<p>"It's a long distance to go for a spade," he said with a laugh. "D'ye -know what I think ye are?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"What?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Ye're a cub that has run away from his master," said the man. "If the -pleece get ye ye'll go to jail for brekin' a contract."</p> - -<p>I slid out of the cart, pulling my bundle after me, and took to my heels -along the dry road. "Wan cannot see yer back for dust," the man shouted -after me, and he kept roaring aloud for a long while. Soon, however, I -got out of the sound of his voice, and I slowed down and recovered my -wind. About fifteen minutes later I overtook an old withered woman, lean -as a rake, who was talking to herself. I walked with her for a long -distance, but she was so taken up with her own troubles that she had not -a word for me.</p> - -<p>"Is it on a day like this," the old body was saying aloud to herself, -"that the birds sing loud on the trees, and the sun shines for all he is -worth in the hollow of the sky, a day when the cruel hand of God strikes -heavy on me heart, and starves the blood in me veins? Who at all would -think that me little Bridgid would go so soon from her own door, and the -fire on her own hearthstone, into the land where the cold of death is -and the darkness? Mother of God! be good to a poor old woman, but it's -bitter that I am, bekase she was tuk away from me, lavin' me alone in me -old age with no wan sib to meself, to sleep under me own roof. Well do I -mind the day when little Bridgid came. That day, my good man Fergus -himself was tuk away from me, but I wasn't as sorry as an old woman -might be for her man, for she was there with the black eyes of her -lookin' into me own and never speakin' a word at all, at all. Then she -grew big, with the gold on her hair, and the redness on her mouth, and -the whiteness of the snow on her teeth. 'Tis often meself would watch -her across the half-door, when she was a-chasin' the geese in the yard, -or pullin' the feathers from the wings of the ducks in the puddle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> And -I would say to meself: 'What man will take her away from her old mother -some fine mornin' and lave me lonely be the fire in the evenin'?' And no -man came at all, at all, to take her, and now she's gone. The singin' -birds are in the bushes, and the sun is laughin', the latch of me door -is left loose, but she'll not come back, no matter what I do. So I do be -trampin' about the roads with the sweat on me, and the shivers of cold -on me at the same time, gettin' a handful of meal here, and a goupin of -pratees there, and never at all able to forget that I am lonely without -her."</p> - -<p>I left the woman and her talk behind me on the road, and I thought it a -strange thing that anyone could be sorry when I was so happy. In a -little while I forgot all about her, for my eyes caught the chimneys of -Strabane sending up their black smoke into the air, and I heard some -church clock striking out the hour of noon.</p> - -<p>It was well on in the day when I got the 'Derry train, but on the moment -I set my foot on the pier by the waterside I found Micky's Jim sitting -on a capstan waiting for me. He was chewing a plug of tobacco, and -spitting into the water.</p> - -<p>"Work hasn't done ye much harm, Dermod Flynn, for ye've grown to be a -big, soncy man," was Jim's greeting, and I felt very proud of myself -when he said these words.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">THE 'DERRY BOAT</span></h2> - -<p class="center">"Bad cess to the boats! for it's few they take back of the many -they take away."—<span class="smcap">A Glenmornan Saying.</span></p> - -<p>Jim and I had a long talk together, and I asked him about the people at -home, my father and mother, the neighbours, their doings, their talk, -and all the rest of the little things that went to make up the world of -the Glenmornan folk. In return for his information I told Jim about my -life in Tyrone, the hardships of Bennet's place, the poor feeding, the -hard work, the loneliness, and, above all, the fight in the bedroom -where I gave Joe Bennet one in the stomach that made him sick for two -hours afterwards.</p> - -<p>"That's the only thing that a Glenmornan man could do," said Micky's -Jim, when I told him of the fight.</p> - -<p>Afterwards we sauntered along the wharf together, waiting for the other -members of the party, who had gone to the Catholic chapel in 'Derry to -say their prayers before leaving their own country. Everything I saw was -a source of wonder to me. I lived many miles from the sea at home, and -only once did I even see a fishing-boat. That was years before, when I -passed Doon Ferry on my way to the Holy Well of Iniskeel. There did I -see the fishing-boats of Trienna lying by the beach while the fishermen -mended their nets on the foreshore. Out by the rim of the deep-sea water -the bar was roaring, and a line of restless creamy froth stretched -across the throat of the bay,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> like the bare white arms of a girl who -bathes in a darksome pool. I asked one of the fishers if he would let me -go with him across the bar. He only laughed at me and said that it would -suit me far better to say my prayers.</p> - -<p>For the whole of the evening I could not take my eyes off the boats that -lay by 'Derry Pier. Micky's Jim took no notice of them, because he had -seen them often enough before.</p> - -<p>"Ye'll not wonder much at ships when ye've seen them as much as I've -seen them," he said.</p> - -<p>We sought out our own boat, and Jim said that she was a rotten tub when -he had examined her critically with his eyes for a moment.</p> - -<p>"It'll make ye as sick as a dog goin' roun' the Moils o' Kentire," he -said. "Ye'll know what it is to be sea-sick this night, Dermod."</p> - -<p>We went on board, and waited for the rest of the party to come along. -While waiting Jim prowled into the cook's galley and procured two cups -of strong black tea, which we drank together on deck.</p> - -<p>It was, "Under God, the day an' the night, ye've grown to be a big man, -Dermod," and "Ye're a soncy rung o' a fellow this minute, Dermod Flynn," -when the people from my own arm of the Glen came up the deck and saw me -there along with Micky's Jim. Many of the squad were old stagers who had -been in the country across the water before. They planted their patch of -potatoes and corn in their little croft at home, then went to Scotland -for five or six months in the middle of the year to earn money for the -rent of their holding. The land of Donegal is bare and hungry, and -nobody can make a decent livelihood there except landlords.</p> - -<p>The one for whom I longed most was the last to come, and when I saw her -my heart almost stopped beating. She was the same as ever with her soft -tender eyes and sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> face, that put me in mind of the angels pictured -over the altar of the little chapel at home. Her hair fell over her -shawl like a cascade of brown waters, her forehead was white and pure as -marble, her cheeks seemed made of rose-leaf, of a pale carnation hue, -and her fair light body, slender as a young poplar, seemed too holy for -the contact of the cold world. She stepped up the gang-plank, slowly and -timidly, for she was afraid of the noise and shouting of the place.</p> - -<p>The boat's derricks creaked angrily on their pivots, the gangways -clattered loudly as they were shifted here and there by noisy and dirty -men, and the droves of bullocks, fresh from the country fairs, bellowed -unceasingly as they were hammered into the darkness of the hold. On -these things I looked with wonder, Norah looked with fright.</p> - -<p>All evening I had been thinking about her, and the words of welcome -which I would say to her when we met. When she came on deck I put out my -hand, but couldn't for the life of me say a word of greeting. She was -the first to speak.</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn, I hardly knew ye at all," she said with a half-smile on -her lips. "Ye got very big these last two years."</p> - -<p>"So did you, Norah," I answered, feeling very glad because she had kept -count of the time I was gone. "You are almost as tall as I am."</p> - -<p>"Why wouldn't I be as tall as ye are," she answered with a full smile. -"Sure am I not a year and two months older?"</p> - -<p>Some of the other women began to talk to Norah, and I turned to look at -the scene around me. The sun was setting, and showed like a red bladder -in the pink haze that lay over the western horizon. The Foyle was a -sheet of wavy molten gold which the boat cut through as she sped out -from the pier. The upper deck was crowded with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> people who were going to -Scotland to work for the summer and autumn. They were all very ragged, -both women and men; most of the men were drunk, and they discussed, -quarrelled, argued, and swore until the din was deafening. Little heed -was taken by them of the beauty of the evening, and all alone I watched -the vessel turn up a furrow of gold at the bow until my brain was -reeling with the motion of the water that sobbed past the sides of the -steamer, and swept far astern where the line of white churned foam fell -into rank with the sombre expanse of sea that we were leaving behind.</p> - -<p>Many of the passengers were singing songs of harvestmen, lovers, -cattle-drovers, and sailors. One man, a hairy, villainous-looking -fellow, stood swaying unsteadily on the deck with a bottle of whisky in -one hand, and roaring out "Judy Brannigan."</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh! Judy Brannigan, ye are me darlin',</div> -<div>Ye are me lookin' glass from night till mornin'—</div> -<div>I'd rather have ye without wan farden,</div> -<div>Than Shusan Gallagheer with her house and garden."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Others joined in mixing up half a dozen songs in one musical outpouring, -and the result was laughable in the extreme.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"If all the young maidens were ducks in the water,</div> -<div>'Tis then the young men would jump out and swim after . . "</div> -<div>"I'm Barney O'Hare from the County Clare</div> -<div>I'm an Irish cattle drover,</div> -<div>I'm not as green as ye may think</div> -<div>Although I'm just new-over . . ."</div> -<div>"For a sailor courted a farmer's daughter</div> -<div>That lived convainint to the Isle of Man . . ."</div> -<div>"As beautiful Kitty one mornin' was trippin'</div> -<div>With a pitcher of milk to the fair of Coleraine</div> -<div>And her right fol the dol right fol the doddy,</div> -<div>Right fol the dol, right fol the dee."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I could not understand what "right fol the dol," etc., meant, but I -joined in the chorus when I found Micky's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> Jim roaring out for all he -was worth along with the rest.</p> - -<p>There were many on board who were full of drink and fight, men who were -ready for quarrels and all sorts of mischief. One of these, a man called -O'Donnel, paraded up and down the deck with an open clasp-knife in his -hand, speaking of himself in the third person, and inviting everybody on -board to fistic encounter.</p> - -<p>"This is young O'Donnel from the County Donegal," he shouted, alluding -to himself, and lifting his knife which shone red with the blood hues of -the sinking sun. "And young O'Donnel doesn't care a damn for a man on -this bloody boat. I can fight like a two-year-old bullock. A blow of me -fist is like a kick from a young colt, and I don't care a damn for a man -on this boat. Not for a man on this boat! I'm a Rosses man, and I don't -care a damn for a man on this boat!"</p> - -<p>He looked terrible as he shouted out his threats. One eyebrow was cut -open and the flesh hung down even as far as his cheekbone. I could not -take my eyes away from him, and he suddenly noticed me watching his -antics. Then he slouched forward and hit me on the face, knocking me -down. The next instant Micky's Jim was on top of him, and I saw as if in -a dream the knife flying over the side of the vessel into the sea. Then -I heard my mate shouting, "Take that, you damned brat—and that—and -that!" He hammered O'Donnel into insensibility, and by the time I -regained my feet they were carrying the insensible man below. I felt -weak and dizzy. Jim took me to a seat, and Norah Ryan bathed my cheek, -which was swollen and bleeding.</p> - -<p>"It was a shame to hit ye, Dermod," she said more than once as she -rubbed her soft fingers on the wound. Somehow I was glad of the wound, -because it won such attention from Norah.</p> - -<p>The row between O'Donnel and Jim was only the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> beginning of a wild -night's fighting. All over the deck and down in the steerage the -harvestmen and labourers fought one with another for hours on end. Over -the bodies of the women who were asleep in every corner, over coils of -ropes, trunks and boxes of clothes, the drunken men struggled like -demons. God knows what they had to quarrel about! When I could not see -them I could hear them falling heavily as cattle fall amid a jumble of -twisted hurdles, until the drink and exertion overpowered them at last. -One by one they fell asleep, just where they had dropped or on the spot -where they were knocked down.</p> - -<p>Towards midnight, when, save for the thresh of the propellers and the -pulsing of the engines, all was silent, I walked towards the stem of the -boat. There I found Norah Ryan asleep, her shawl drawn over her brown -hair, and the rising moon shining softly on her gentle face. For a -moment I kept looking at her; then she opened her eyes and saw me.</p> - -<p>"Sit beside me, Dermod," she said. "It will be warmer for two."</p> - -<p>I sat down, and the girl nestled close to me in the darkness. The sickle -moon drifted up the sky, furrowing the pearl-powdered floor with its -silver front. Far away on the Irish coast I could see the lights in the -houses along-shore. When seated a while I found Norah's hand resting in -mine, and then, lulled with the throb of the engine and the weeping song -of the sea, I fell into a deep sleep, forgetting the horror of the night -and the red wound on my face where O'Donnel had struck me with his fist.</p> - -<p>Dawn was breaking when I awoke. Norah still slept, her head close -against my arm, and her face, beautiful in repose, turned towards mine. -Her cherry-red lips lay apart, and I could see the two rows of pearly -white teeth between. The pink tips of her ears peeped from amid the -coils of her hair, and I placed my hand on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> head and stroked her -brown tresses ever so softly. She woke so quietly that the change from -sleeping to waking was hardly noticeable. The traces of dim dreams were -yet in her eyes, and as I watched her my mind was full of unspoken -thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Have ye seen Scotland yet, Dermod?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"That's it, I think," I said, as I pointed at the shoreline visible many -miles away.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it like Ireland." Norah nestled closer to me as she spoke. "I -would like to be goin' back again," she said after a long silence.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to make a great fortune in Scotland, Norah," I said. "And I'm -going to make you a great lady."</p> - -<p>"Why are ye goin' to do that?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I confessed, and the two of us laughed together.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT ASHAMED</span></h2> - -<blockquote><p>"'Tell the truth and shame the devil,' they say. Well, to tell you -the truth, there are some truths which would indeed shame the -devil!"—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe.</span></p></blockquote> - -<p>The potato merchant met us on Greenock quay next morning, and here -Micky's Jim marshalled his squad, which consisted in all of twenty-one -persons. Seventeen of these came from Ireland, and the remainder were -picked up from the back streets of Greenock and Glasgow. With the -exception of two, all the Irish women were very young, none of them -being over nineteen years of age, but the two extra women needed for the -squad were withered and wrinkled harridans picked from the city slums. -These women met us on the quay.</p> - -<p>"D'ye see them?" Micky's Jim whispered to me. "They cannot make a livin' -on the streets, so they have to come and work with us. What d'ye think -of them?"</p> - -<p>"I don't like the look of them," I said.</p> - -<p>The potato merchant hurried us off to Buteshire the moment we arrived, -and we started work on a farm at mid-day. The way we had to work was -this. Nine of the older men dug the potatoes from the ground with short -three-pronged graips. The women followed behind, crawling on their knees -and dragging two baskets a-piece along with them. Into these baskets -they lifted the potatoes thrown out by the men. When the baskets were -filled I emptied the contents into barrels set in the field for that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -purpose. These barrels were in turn sent off to the markets and big -towns which we had never seen.</p> - -<p>The first day was very wet, and the rain fell in torrents, but as the -demand for potatoes was urgent we had to work through it all. The job, -bad enough for men, was killing for women. All day long, on their hands -and knees, they dragged through the slush and rubble of the field. The -baskets which they hauled after them were cased in clay to the depth of -several inches, and sometimes when emptied of potatoes a basket weighed -over two stone. The strain on the women's arms must have been terrible. -But they never complained. Pools of water gathered in the hollows of the -dress that covered the calves of their legs. Sometimes they rose and -shook the water from their clothes, then went down on their knees again. -The Glasgow women sang an obscene song, "just by way o' passing the -time," one of them explained, and Micky's Jim joined in the chorus. Two -little ruts, not at all unlike the furrows left by a coulter of a -skidding plough, lay behind the women in the black earth. These were -made by their knees.</p> - -<p>We left off work at six o'clock in the evening, and turned in to look up -our quarters for the night. We had not seen them yet, for we started -work in the fields immediately on arriving. A byre was being prepared -for our use, and a farm servant was busily engaged in cleaning it out -when we came in from the fields. He was shoving the cow-dung through a -trap-door into a vault below. The smell of the place was awful. There -were ten cattle stalls in the building, five on each side of the raised -concrete walk that ran down the middle between two sinks. These stalls -were our sleeping quarters.</p> - -<p>The byre was built on the shoulder of a hillock and the midden was -situated in a grotto hollowed underneath; its floor was on a level with -the cart-road outside, and in the corner of this vault we had to build a -fire for cooking our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> food. A large dung-hill blocked the entrance, and -we had to cross this to get to the fire which sparkled brightly behind. -Around the blaze we dried our sodden clothes, and the steam of the -drying garments rose like a mist around us.</p> - -<p>One of the strange women was named Gourock Ellen, which goes to show -that she had a certain fame in the town of that name. The day's drag had -hacked and gashed her knees so that they looked like minced flesh in a -butcher's shop window. She showed her bare knees, and was not in the -least ashamed. I turned my head away hurriedly, not that the sight of -the wounds frightened me, but I felt that I was doing something wrong in -gazing at the bare leg of a woman. I looked at Norah Ryan, and the both -of us blushed as if we had been guilty of some shameful action. Gourock -Ellen saw us, and began to sing a little song aloud:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"When I was a wee thing and lived wi' my granny,</div> -<div>Oh! it's many a caution my granny gi'ed me,</div> -<div>She said: 'Now be wise and beware o' the boys,</div> -<div>And don't let the petticoats over your knee.'"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When she finished her verse she winked knowingly at Micky's Jim, and, -strange to say, Jim winked back.</p> - -<p>We boiled a pot of potatoes, and poured the contents into a wicker -basket which was placed on the floor of the vault. Then all of us sat -down together and ate our supper like one large family, and because we -were very hungry did not mind the reeking midden behind us.</p> - -<p>During our meal an old bent and wrinkled man came hobbling across the -dung-heap towards the fire. His clothing was streaming wet and only held -together by strings, patches, and threads. He looked greedily towards -the fire, and Gourock Ellen handed him three hot potatoes.</p> - -<p>"God bless ye," said the man in a thin piping voice. "It's yerself that -has the kindly heart, good woman."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>He ate hurriedly like a dog, as if afraid somebody would snatch the -bread from between his jaws. He must have been very hungry, and I felt -sorry for the man. I handed him the can of milk which I had procured at -the farmhouse, and he drank the whole lot at one gulp.</p> - -<p>"It's yerself that is the dacent youngster, God bless ye!" he said, and -there were tears in his eyes. "And isn't this a fine warm place ye are -inside of this wet night."</p> - -<p>The smell of the midden was heavy in my nostrils, and the smoke of the -fire was paining my eyes.</p> - -<p>"It's a rotten place," I said.</p> - -<p>"Sure and it's not at all," said the man in a pleading voice. "It's -better than lyin' out under a wet hedge with the rain spat-spatterin' on -yer face."</p> - -<p>"Why do you lie under a hedge?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Sure, no one wants me at all, at all, because of the pain in me back -that won't let me stoop over me work," said the man. "In the farms they -say to me, 'Go away, we don't want ye'; in the village they say, 'Go -away, we're sick of lookin' at ye,' and what am I to do? Away in me own -country, that is Mayo, it's always the welcome hand and a bit and sup -when a man is hungry, but here it's the scowling face and the ill word -that is always afore an old man like me."</p> - -<p>One by one the women went away from the fire, for they were tired from -their day's work and wanted to turn into bed as early as possible. The -old man sat by the fire looking into the flames without taking any heed -of those around him. Jim and I were the last two to leave the fire, and -my friend shook the old man by the shoulder before he went out.</p> - -<p>"What are ye goin' to do now?" asked Jim.</p> - -<p>"Maybe ye'd let me sleep beside the fire till the morra mornin'," said -the man.</p> - -<p>"Ye must go out of here," said Jim.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>"Let him stay," I said, for I felt sorry for the poor old chap.</p> - -<p>Jim thought for a minute. "Well, I'll let him stay, cute old cadger -though he is," he said, and the both of us went into the byre leaving -the old man staring dreamily into the flames.</p> - -<p>One blanket apiece was supplied to us by the potato merchant, and by -sleeping two in a bed the extra blanket was made to serve the purpose of -a sheet. We managed to make ourselves comfortable by sewing bags -together in the form of a coverlet and placing the make-shift quilts -over our bodies.</p> - -<p>"Where is Norah Ryan?" asked Micky's Jim, as he finished using his -pack-needle on the quilts which he was preparing for our use. Jim and I -were to sleep in the one stall.</p> - -<p>Norah Ryan was not to be seen, and I went out to the fire to find if she -was there. From across the black midden I looked into the vault which -was still dimly lighted up by the dying flames, and there I saw Norah -speaking to the old man. She was on the point of leaving the place, and -I saw some money pass from her hand to that of the stranger.</p> - -<p>"God be good to ye, decent girl," I heard the man say, as Norah took her -way out. I hid in the darkness and allowed her to pass without seeing -me. Afterwards I went in and gave a coin to the old man. He still held -the one given by Norah between his fingers, and it was a two-shilling -piece. Probably she had not another in her possession. What surprised me -most was the furtive way in which she did a kindness. For myself, when -doing a good action, I like everybody to notice it.</p> - -<p>In the byre there was no screen between the women and the men. The -modesty of the young girls, when the hour for retiring came around, was -unable to bear this. The strange women did not care in the least.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>The Irish girls sat by their bedsides and made no sign of undressing. I -slid into bed quietly with my trousers still on; most of the men -stripped with evident unconcern, nakedly and shamelessly.</p> - -<p>"The darkness is a good curtain if the women want to take off their -clothes," said Micky's Jim, as he extinguished the only candle in the -place. He re-lit a match the next moment, and there was a hurried -scampering under the blankets in the stalls on the other side of the -passage.</p> - -<p>"That's a mortal sin, Micky's Jim, that ye're doin'," said Norah Ryan, -and the two strange women laughed loudly as if very much amused at -persons who were more modest than themselves.</p> - -<p>"Who are ye lyin' with, Norah Ryan? Is it Gourock Ellen?" asked my -bedmate.</p> - -<p>"It is," came the answer.</p> - -<p>"D'ye hear that, Dermod—a nun and a harridan in one bed?" said Jim -under his breath to me.</p> - -<p>Outside the raindrops were sounding on the roof like whip-lashes. Jim -spoke again in a drowsy voice.</p> - -<p>"We're keepin' some poor cows from their warm beds to-night," he said.</p> - -<p>I kept awake for a long while, turning thoughts over in my mind. The -scenes on the 'Derry boat, and my recent experience in the soggy fields, -had taken the edge off the joy that winged me along the leading road to -Strabane. I was now far out into the heart of the world, and life loomed -darkly before me. The wet day went to crush my dreams and the ardour of -my spirits. Hitherto I had great belief in women, their purity, virtue, -and gentleness. But now my grand dreams of pure womanhood had collapsed. -The foul words, the loose jokes and obscene songs of the two women who -were strangers, the hard, black, bleeding and scabby knees that Gourock -Ellen showed to us at the fire had turned my young visions into -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>nightmares. The sight of the girls ploughing through the mucky clay, -and the wolfish stare of the old man who envied those who fed beside a -dungheap were repellent to me. I looked on life in all its primordial -brutishness and found it loathsome to my soul.</p> - -<p>Only that morning coming up the Clyde, when Norah and I looked across -the water to a country new to both of us, my mind was full of dreams of -the future. But the rosy-tinted boyish dreams of morning were shattered -before the fall of night. Maybe the old man who lay by the dung-heap -came to Scotland full of dreams like mine. Now the spirit was crushed -out of him; he was broken on the wheel of life, and he had neither -courage to rob, sin, nor die. He could only beg his bit and apologise -for begging. The first day in Scotland disgusted me, made me sick of -life, and if it were not that Norah Ryan was in the squad I would go -back to Jim MaCrossan's farm again.</p> - -<p>That night, as for many nights before, I turned into bed without saying -my prayers, and I determined to pray no more. I had been brought up a -Catholic, and to believe in a just God, and the eternal fire of -torments, but daily newer and stranger thoughts were coming into my -mind. Even when working with MaCrossan in the meadowlands my mind -reverted to the little book in which I read the story of the heavens. -God behind His million worlds had no time to pay any particular -attention to me. This thought I tried to drive away, for the Church had -still a strong hold on me, and anything out of keeping with my childish -creed entered my mind like a nail driven into the flesh. The new -thoughts, however, persisted, they took form and became part of my -being. The change was gradual, for I tried desperately to reject the new -idea of the universe and God. But the sight of the women in the fields, -the story of the old man with the pain in his back who slept under a wet -hedge was to me conclusive proof that God took no interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> in the -personal welfare of men. And when I gripped the new idea as -incontestable truth it did not destroy my belief in God. Only the God of -my early days, the God who took a personal interest in my welfare, was -gone.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the rest of the Catholic members of the squad went to chapel, -when the farm on which we wrought was near a suitable place of worship, -but I never went. Their visits were few and far between, for we were -distant from the big towns most of the time.</p> - -<p>We seldom stopped longer than one fortnight at a time on any farm. We -shifted about here and there, digging twenty acres for one farmer, ten -for another, living in byres, pig-stys and barns, and taking life as we -found it. Daily we laboured together, the men bent almost double over -their graips, throwing out the potatoes to the girls who followed after, -dragging their bodies through the mire and muck like wounded animals, -and I lifted the baskets of potatoes and filled the barrels for market. -Still, for all the disadvantages, life was happy enough to me, because -Norah Ryan was near me working in the fields.</p> - -<p>But the life was brutal, and almost unfit for animals. One night when we -were asleep in a barn the rain came through the roof and flooded the -earthen floor to a depth of several inches. Our beds being wet through, -we had to rise and stand for the remainder of the night knee-deep in the -cold water.</p> - -<p>When morning came we went out to work in the wet fields.</p> - -<p>Once when living in a pig-sty we were bothered by rats. When we were at -work they entered our habitation, ransacked the packets of food, gnawed -our clothes, and upset everything in the place. They could only get in -by one entrance, a hole in the wall above my bed, and by that same way -they had to go out. After a little while the rats became bolder and came -in by night when we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> asleep. One night I awoke to find them jumping -down from the aperture, landing on my body in their descent. Then they -scampered away and commenced prowling around for food. I counted twenty -thuds on my breast, then stuck my trousers in the throat of the opening -above my bed and wakened Jim, who snored like a hog through it all. We -got up and lit a candle. When the rats saw the light they hurried back -to their hole, but we were ready and waiting for them, Micky's Jim with -a shovel shaft, and I with a graip shank. We killed them as they came, -all except one, which ran under the bed-clothes of Norah Ryan's bed. -There was great noise of screaming for a while, but somehow or another -Gourock Ellen got hold of the animal and squeezed it to death under the -blankets. I left my trousers in the aperture all night, and they were -nibbled almost to pieces in the morning. They were the only ones in my -possession, and I had to borrow a pair from Jim for the next day.</p> - -<p>The farmer gave us a halfpenny for every rat's tail handed in, as he -wanted to get rid of the pests, and from that time forward Jim and I -killed several, and during the remainder of the season we earned three -pounds between us by hunting and killing rats. Gourock Ellen sometimes -joined in the hunt, by way of amusement, but her principal relaxation -was getting drunk on every pay-day.</p> - -<p>The other woman, whose name was Annie, usually accompanied her on -Saturday to the nearest village, and the two of them got full together. -They also shared their food in common, but often quarrelled among -themselves over one thing and another. They fought like cats and swore -awfully, using the most vile language, but the next moment they were the -best of friends again. One Saturday night they returned from a -neighbouring village with two tramp men. Micky's Jim chased the two men -away from the byre in which we were living at the time.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"I'll have no whorin' about this place," he said.</p> - -<p>"You're a damned religious beast to be livin' in a cowshed," said one of -the tramps.</p> - -<p>One day Gourock Ellen asked me who did my washing, though I believe that -she knew I washed my own clothes with my own hands.</p> - -<p>"Myself," I said in reply to Ellen's inquiry.</p> - -<p>"Will yer own country girls not do it for you?"</p> - -<p>"I can do it myself," I replied.</p> - -<p>When I looked for my soiled under-garments a week later I could not find -them. I made inquiries and found that Gourock Ellen had washed them for -me.</p> - -<p>"It's a woman's work," she said, when I talked to her, and she washed my -clothes to the end of the season and would not accept payment for the -work.</p> - -<p>Nearly everyone in the squad looked upon the two women with contempt and -disgust, and I must confess that I shared in the general feeling. In my -sight they were loathsome and unclean. They were repulsive in -appearance, loose in language, and seemingly devoid of any moral -restraint or female decency. It was hard to believe that they were young -children once, and that there was still unlimited goodness in their -natures. Why had Gourock Ellen handed the potatoes to the old Mayo man -who was hungry, and why had she undertaken to do my washing without -asking for payment? I could not explain these impulses of the woman, and -sometimes, indeed, I cannot explain my own. I cannot explain why I then -disliked Gourock Ellen, despite what she had done for me, and to-day I -regret that ignorance of youth which caused me to despise a human being -who was (as after events proved) infinitely better than myself.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE MAN WITH THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK</span></h2> - -<p class="center">"He would gamble on his father's tombstone and play banker with the -corpse."—<span class="smcap">A Kinlochleven Proverb.</span></p> - -<p>The middle of September was at hand, and a slight tinge of brown was -already showing on the leaves. We were now working on a farm where the -River Clyde broadens out to the waters of the deep ocean. One evening, -when supper was over, I went out alone to the fields and sat down on the -green sod and looked outwards to the grey horizon of the sea. Beside me -ran a long avenue of hazel bushes, and a thrush was singing on a near -bough, his amber and speckled bosom quivering with the passion of his -song. The sun had already disappeared, trailing its robe of carmine from -off the surface of the far water, and an early star was already keeping -its watch overhead. All at once the bushes of the hazel copse parted and -Norah Ryan stood before me.</p> - -<p>"Is it here that ye are, Dermod, lookin' at the sea?"</p> - -<p>"I was looking at the star above me," I replied.</p> - -<p>Norah had discarded her working clothes, and now wore a soft grey tweed -dress that suited her well. Together we looked up at the star, and then -my eyes fell on the sweet face of my companion. In the shadow of her -hair I could see the white of her brow and the delicate and graceful -curve of her neck. Her brown tresses hung down her back even as far as -her waist, and the wind ruffled them ever so slightly. Somehow my -thoughts went back to the June<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> seaweed rising and falling on the long -heaving waves of Trienna Bay. She noticed me looking at her, and she sat -down on the sod beside me.</p> - -<p>"Why d'ye keep watchin' me?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I answered in a lame sort of way, for I am not good at -making excuses. I was afraid to tell her that I liked the whiteness of -her brow, the softness of her hair, and the wonderful glance of her -eyes. No doubt she would have laughed at me if I did.</p> - -<p>"Do you mind the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked. "All that night -when you were asleep, I had your hand in mine."</p> - -<p>"I mind it very well."</p> - -<p>As she spoke she closed her fingers over mine and looked at me in the -eyes. The glance was one of a moment; our gaze met and the next instant -Norah's long lashes dropped slowly and modestly over the grey depths of -her eyes. There was something strange in that look of hers; it was the -glance of a soul which did not yet know itself, full of radiant -awakening and wonderful promise. In it was all the innocence of the -present and passion of the future; it was the glance both of a virgin -and a woman. We both trembled and looked up at the stars that came out -one by one into the broad expanse of heaven. The thrush had gone away, -and a little wind played amongst the branches of the trees. In the -distance we could hear the water breaking on the foreshore with a -murmurous plaint that was full of longing. We kept silence, for the -spell of the night was too holy to be broken by words. How long we -remained there I do not know, but when we returned to the byre all the -rest of the party were in bed. Next night I waited for her in the same -place and she came again, and for many nights afterwards we watched the -stars coming out while listening to the heart song of the sea.</p> - -<p>One wet evening, early in October, when Norah and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> were sitting by the -fire in the cart-shed that belonged to a farmer near Greenock, talking -to Micky's Jim about Glenmornan and the people at home, a strange man -came to the farmyard. Although a stranger to me, Micky's Jim knew the -fellow very well, for he belonged to a neighbouring village, was a noted -gambler, and visited the squad every year. He sat down and warmed his -hands at the fire while he looked critically at the members of the squad -who had come in to see him.</p> - -<p>"Have ye the devil's prayer book with ye?" asked Jim.</p> - -<p>"That I have," answered the man, drawing a pack of cards from his -pocket. "Will we have a bit o' the Gospel o' Chance?"</p> - -<p>The body of a disused cart was turned upside down, and six or seven men -belonging to the squad sat around it and commenced to gamble for money -with the stranger. For a long while I watched the play, and at last put -a penny on a card and won. I put on another penny and another and won -again and again, for my luck was good. It was very interesting. We -gambled until five o'clock in the morning and at the finish of the game -I had profited to the extent of twenty-five shillings. During the game I -had eyes for nothing else; the women had gone to bed, but I never -noticed their departure, for my whole mind was given up to the play. All -day following I looked forward to the evening and the return of the man -with the devil's prayer book, and when he came I was one of the first to -give a hand to turn the disused cart upside down. The farmer's son, Alec -Morrison, a strong, well-knit youth, barely out of his teens, came in to -see the play and entered into conversation with Norah Ryan. He worked as -a bank clerk in Paisley, but spent every week-end at his father's farm. -He was a well-dressed youth; wore boots which were always clean, and a -gold ring with a blue stone in the centre of it shone on one of his -fingers. I took little heed of him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> for my whole being was centred on -the game and my luck was good.</p> - -<p>"Come Hallow E'en I'll have plenty of money to take home to Glenmornan," -I said to myself, more than once, for on the second night I won over -thirty shillings.</p> - -<p>The third night was against me—the third time, the gambler's own!—and -afterwards I lost money every night. But I could not resist the call of -the cards, the school fascinated me, and the sight of a winner's -upturned "flush" or "run" set my veins on fire. So I played night after -night and discussed the chances of the game day after day, until every -penny in my possession was in the hands of the man with the devil's -prayer book. Before I put my first penny on a card I had seven pounds in -gold, which I intended to take home to my people in Glenmornan. Now it -was all gone. Gourock Ellen offered me ten shillings to start afresh, -but I would not accept her money. Norah Ryan took no interest in the -game, her whole attention was now given up to the farmer's son, and it -was only when I had spent my last penny that I became aware of the fact. -He came in to see her every evening and passed hour after hour in her -company. I did not like this; I felt angry with her and with myself, and -I hated the farmer's son. I had many dreams of a future in which Norah -would play a prominent part, but now all my dreams were dashed to -pieces. Although outwardly I showed no trace of my feelings I felt very -miserable. Norah took no delight in my company any more, all her spare -time was given up to Alec Morrison. The cards did not interest me any -longer. I hated them, and considered that they were the cause of my -present misfortune. If I had left them alone and paid more attention to -Norah she would not have taken so much pleasure in the other man's -company.</p> - -<p>I nursed my mood for a fortnight, then I turned to the cards again and -lost all the money in my possession. On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> the first week of November, -when the squad broke up, I had the sum of twopence in my pocket. On the -evening prior to the day of the squad's departure, I came suddenly round -the corner of the hayshed by the farmhouse and saw a very curious thing. -Norah was standing there with the farmer's son and he was kissing her. I -came on the two of them suddenly, and when Norah saw me she ran away -from the man.</p> - -<p>I had never thought of kissing Norah when she was alone with me. It was -a very curious thing to do, and it never entered into my mind. Perhaps -if I had kissed her when we were together she would like me the more for -it. Why I should kiss her was beyond my reasoning. All I knew was that I -longed for Norah with a great longing. I was now discouraged and -despondent. I felt that I had nothing to live for in the world. -To-morrow the rest of the party would go away to their homes with their -earnings and I would be left alone. I could not think for a moment of -going home penniless. I would stay in Scotland until I earned plenty of -money, and go home a rich man. I had not given up thoughts of becoming -rich. A hundred pounds to me was a fortune, fifty pounds was a large -amount, and twenty pounds was a sum which I might yet possess. If I -lived long enough I might earn a whole twenty, or maybe fifty pounds. I -had heard of workers who had earned as much. For the whole season I had -only sent two pounds home to my own people, while I spent seven on the -cards. I played cards because I wanted to make a bigger pile. Now I had -but twopence left in my possession!</p> - -<p>The squad broke up next day, and Norah Ryan had hardly a word to say to -me when bidding good-bye, but she had two hours to spare for -leave-taking with Morrison, who, although it was now the middle of the -week, a time when he should be at business in the bank, had come to -spend a day on the farm. No doubt he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> had come to bid Norah good-bye. -Micky's Jim was going home to Ireland, and Gourock Ellen and Annie said -that they were going to Glasgow to get drunk on their last week's pay.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon when the party broke up and set out for the railway -station, and a heavy snow was lying on the ground. I got turned out of -the byre by the farmer when the rest went off, and I found myself in a -strange country, houseless, friendless, and alone.</p> - -<p>The road lay behind me and before me, and where was I to turn? This was -the question that confronted me as I went out, ragged and shivering, -into the cold snow with nothing, save twopence, between me and the cold -chance charity of the world. A man can't get much for twopence. While -working there was byre or pig-sty for shelter; when idle I was not worth -the shelter of the meanest roof in the whole country. I walked along, my -mind confused with various thoughts, and certain only of one thing. I -must look for work. But God alone knew how long it would be until I got -a job! I was only a boy who thought that he was a man, and it was now -well into early winter. There was very little work to be done at that -season of the year on farms or, indeed, anywhere. A man might get a job; -a boy had very little chance of finding employment. My clothes were -threadbare, my boots were leaking, and the snow was on the ground. I -felt cold and lonely and a little bit tired of life.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I met Gourock Ellen, and it came to me that I was travelling -towards the station. I thought that the woman was returning for -something which she had forgotten, but I was mistaken.</p> - -<p>"I came back tae see you, Dermod," she said.</p> - -<p>"Why?" I asked in surprise.</p> - -<p>"I thought up tae the very last minute that you were goin' hame till -Ireland, but Jim Scanlon has tellt me at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> the station that you are goin' -tae stop here. He says that you have ower a pound in siller. Is that -so?"</p> - -<p>"That's so," I lied, for I disliked to be questioned in such a manner. I -told Jim that I had a pound in my possession. Otherwise he would have -prevailed upon me to accept money from himself. But I am too proud to -accept a favour of that kind.</p> - -<p>"I've been watchin' you at the cards, Dermod, and I know the kin' o' -luck you had," said Gourock Ellen. "Ye'll hardly have yin penny left at -this very minute. Six shillin's, half of my last week's pay, would d'you -no harm, if you'd care to take it."</p> - -<p>"I don't want it," I said.</p> - -<p>"Then you don't know what it is to fast for hours on end, to get turned -away from every door with kicks and curses, and to have the dogs of the -country put after your heels."</p> - -<p>"I don't want your money," I said, for I could not accept money from -such a woman.</p> - -<p>"I liked you from the first time I saw you, gin that I am a bad woman -itself," she said, as if divining my thoughts. "And I dinna like to see -you goin' out on the cauld roads with not a copper in your pockets. I'm -auld enough to be your——"</p> - -<p>Her cheeks gave the faintest suspicion of a blush, and she stopped -speaking for just a second, leaving the last word, which no doubt she -intended to speak, unuttered on her tongue.</p> - -<p>"You can have half of my money if you want it, and if you like you can -come with me tae Glesga, and I'll find you a bed and bite until you get -a job."</p> - -<p>"I'm not going to Glasgow," I said, for it was not in my heart to go -into the one house with that woman. I could not explain my dislike for -her company, but I preferred the cold night and the snow to the bed and -bite which she promised me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>"Well, you can take the couple o' shillin's anyway," she persisted; -"they'll do you no ill."</p> - -<p>"I don't want your money," I said for the third time.</p> - -<p>"'Twas earned decently, anyway," she said. "I canna see why you'll no -take it. Will you bid me good-bye, Dermod?"</p> - -<p>She put out her hand to me as she spoke, and I pressed it warmly, for in -truth I was glad to get rid of her. Suddenly she reached forward and -kissed me on the cheek; then hurried away, leaving me alone on the -roadway. The woman's kiss disconcerted me, and I suddenly felt ashamed -of my coldness towards her. She was kind-hearted and considerate, and I -was a brute. I looked after her. When she would turn round I would call -to her to stop, and I would go with her to Glasgow. The thought of -spending the night homeless on the bleak road frightened me. She reached -the corner of the road and went out of my sight without ever turning -round. I looked at the two coppers which I possessed, and wondered why I -hadn't taken the money which Gourock Ellen offered me. I also wondered -why she had kissed me.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">PADDING IT</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"A nail in the sole of your bluchers jagging your foot like a pin,</div> -<div>And every step of the journey driving it further in;</div> -<div>Then out on the great long roadway, you'll find when you go abroad,</div> -<div>The nearer you go to nature, the further you go from God."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—<i>A Song of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Out on tramp, homeless in a strange country, with twopence in my pocket! -The darkness lay around me and the snow was white on the ground. -Whenever I took my hands out of my pockets the chill air nipped them -like pincers. One knee was out through my trousers, and my boots were -leaking. The snow melted as it came through the torn uppers, and I could -hear the water gurgling between my toes as I walked. When I passed a -lighted house I felt a hunger that was not of the belly kind. I came to -the village of Bishopton, and went into a little shop, where I asked for -a pennyworth of biscuits. The man weighed them in scales that shone like -gold, and broke one in halves to make the exact weight.</p> - -<p>"There's nothin' like fair measure, laddie," he said.</p> - -<p>"Is there any chance of a man getting a job about this district?" I -asked.</p> - -<p>"What man?" said the shopkeeper.</p> - -<p>"Me," I said.</p> - -<p>"Get out, ye scamp!" roared the man. "It would be better for you to go -to bed instead of tryin' to take a rise out of yer betters."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"You are an old pig!" I shouted at the man, for I did not like his way -of speaking, and disappeared into the darkness. I ate the biscuits, but -felt hungrier after my meal than I was before it.</p> - -<p>The night was calm and deadly cold. Overhead a very pale moon forged its -way through a heaven of stars. On such a night it is a pleasure to sit -before a nice warm fire on a well-swept hearth. I had no fire, no home, -no friends; nothing but the bleak road and the coldness. I kept walking, -walking. I knew that it would be unwise to sit down: perhaps I would -fall asleep and die. I did not want to die. It was so much better to -walk about on the roads of a strange country in which there was nobody -to care what became of me; no one except an old harridan, and she was -far away from me now. The love of life was strong within me, for I was -very young, and never did I cling closer to life than I did at that -moment when it was blackest. My thoughts went to the future and the good -things which might lie before me.</p> - -<p>"I'll get a job yet," I said to myself. "I'll walk about until I meet -somebody who needs me. Then I'll grow up in years and work among men, -maybe getting a whole pound a week as my pay. A pound a week is a big -wage, and it will amount to a lot in a year. I will pay ten shillings a -week for my keep in some lodging-house, as Micky's Jim had done when he -worked on Greenock pier, and I will save the other half-sovereign. Ten -shillings a week amounts to twenty-six pounds a year. In ten years I -shall save two hundred and sixty pounds. Such a big lump-sum of money! -Two hundred and sixty pounds!</p> - -<p>"It will be hard to keep a wife on a pound a week, but I will always -remain single, and send my money home to my own people. If I don't, I'll -never have any luck. I will never gamble again. Neither will I marry, -for women are no earthly use, anyway. They get old, wrinkled, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> fat -very quickly. They are all alike, every one of them."</p> - -<p>I found my thoughts wandering from one subject to another like those of -a person who is falling asleep. Anyhow, I had something to live for, so -I kept walking, walking on.</p> - -<p>I was in the open country, and I did not know where the road was leading -to, but that did not matter. I was as near home in one place as in -another.</p> - -<p>From one point of the sky, probably the north, I saw the clouds rising, -covering up the stars, and at last blotting the moon off the sky as a -picture is wiped off a slate. It was more dismal than ever when the moon -and stars were gone, for now I was alone with the night and the -darkness. I could hear the wind as it passed through the telegraph wires -by the roadside. It was a weeping wind, and put me in mind of the breeze -calling down the chimney far away at home in Glenmornan.</p> - -<p>A low bent man came out of the darkness and shuffled by. "It looks like -snow," he said, in passing.</p> - -<p>"It does," I replied. I could not see his face, but his voice was -kindly. He shuffled along. Perhaps he was going home to a warm supper -and bed. I did not know, and I wondered who the man was.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the snow from the darkness above drifted down and my clothes -were white in an instant. My bare knee became very cold, for the flakes -melted on it as they fell. The snow ran down my legs and made me shiver. -I took off my muffler and tied it around the hole in my trousers to -prevent the snowflakes from getting in. I felt wearied and cold, but -after a while I got very angry. I got angry, not with myself, but with -the wind, the snow, my leaky boots and ragged clothes. I was angry with -the man who carried the devil's prayer book, and also with the man who -broke a biscuit in two because he was an honest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> body and a believer in -fair measure. Perhaps I ought to have been angry with myself, for did I -not spend all my money at the card school, and was it not my own fault -that now I had only one penny in my possession? If I had saved my money -like Micky's Jim I would have now eight or nine pounds in my pocket.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the snow cleared, and my eyes fell on a farmhouse hardly a -stone's-throw away from the road. Thinking that I might get a shed to -lie in I went towards it. There was no light showing in the house and it -must have been long after midnight. As I approached a dog ran at me -yelping. I turned and fled, but the dog caught my trousers and hung on, -trying to fasten his teeth in my leg. I twisted round and swung him -clear, then lifted my boot and aimed a blow at the animal which took him -on the jaw. His teeth snapped together like a trap, and he ran back -squealing. I took to my heels and returned to the road. From there I saw -a light in the farmhouse, so I ran quicker than ever. I was frightened -at what I had done; I had committed a crime in looking for a night's -shelter along with the beasts of the byre. I could not get sleeping with -men; I was not a man. I could not get sleeping in a shed; I was not even -a brute beast. I was merely a little boy who was very hungry, ragged, -and tired.</p> - -<p>I ran for a long distance, and was sweating all over when I stopped. I -stood until I got cool, then continued my walking, walking through the -darkness. I was still walking when the day broke cold and cheerless. I -met a navvy going to his work and I asked him for a penny. He had no -money, but he gave me half of the food which he had brought from home -for his daily meal.</p> - -<p>On the outskirts of Paisley I went to the door of a mansion to ask for a -penny. A man opened the door. He was a fat and comfortable-looking, -round-paunched fellow. He told me to get off before the dog was put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> -after me. I hurried off, and forsook the big houses afterwards.</p> - -<p>Once in Paisley I sat down on a kerbstone under the Caledonian Railway -Bridge in Moss Street. I fell asleep, and slept until a policeman woke -me up.</p> - -<p>"Go away from here!" he roared at me. I got away.</p> - -<p>A gang of men were laying down tramway rails on the street and I went -forward and asked the overseer for a job. He laughed at me for a minute, -then drew his gang around to examine me.</p> - -<p>"He's a fine bit o' a man," said one.</p> - -<p>"He's shouthered like a rake," said another.</p> - -<p>Discomfited and disgusted I hurried away from the grinning circle of -men, and all day long I travelled through the town. I soon got tired of -looking for work, and instead I looked for food. I was very -unsuccessful, and youth is the time for a healthy appetite. I spent my -last penny on a bun, and when it was dark I got a crust from a night -watchman who sat in a little hut by the tram-lines. About midnight I -left the town and went into the country. The snow was no longer falling, -but a hard frost had set in. About two o'clock in the morning I lay down -on the cold ground utterly exhausted, and fell asleep. When dawn came I -rose, and shivering in every limb I struck out once more on my journey. -I looked for work on the farms along the road, but at every place I was -turned away.</p> - -<p>"Go back to the puirs' house," said every second or third farmer.</p> - -<p>I went to one farmhouse when the men were coming out from dinner.</p> - -<p>"Are you lookin' for a job?" asked a man, whom I took to be master.</p> - -<p>"I am," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Then give us a hand in the shed for a while," he said.</p> - -<p>I followed the party into a large building where <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>implements were -stored, and the men gathered round a broken reaper which had to be taken -out into the open.</p> - -<p>"Help us out with this," said the farmer to me.</p> - -<p>There were six of us altogether, and three went to each side of the -machine and caught hold of it.</p> - -<p>"Now, lift!" shouted the farmer.</p> - -<p>The men at the other side lifted their end, but ours remained on the -ground despite all efforts to raise it.</p> - -<p>"Damn you, lift!" said my two mates angrily to me.</p> - -<p>I put all my energy into the work, but the cold and hunger had taken the -half of my strength away. We could not lift the machine clear of the -ground. The farmer got angry.</p> - -<p>"Get out of my sight, you spineless brat!" he roared to me, and I left -the farmyard. When I came to the high-road again there were tears in my -eyes. They were tears of shame; I was ashamed of my own weakness.</p> - -<p>For a whole week afterwards I tramped through the country, hating all -men, despised by everyone, and angry with my own plight. A few gave me -food, some cursed me from their doors, and a great number mocked me as I -passed. "Auld ragged breeks!" the children of the villages cried after -me. "We're sick o' lookin' at the likes o' you!" the fat tubs of women, -who stood by their cottage doors, said when I asked them for something -to eat. Others would say: "Get out o' our sight, or we'll tell the -policeman about you. Then you'll go to the lock-up, where you'll only -get bread and water and a bed on a plank."</p> - -<p>Such a dreadful thing! It shocked me to think of it, and for a while I -always hurried away when women spoke in such a manner. However, in the -end, suffering caused me to change my opinions. A man with an empty -stomach may well prefer bread and water to water, a bed on a plank to a -bed on the snow, and the roof of a prison to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> the cold sky over him. So -it was that I came into Paisley again at the end of the week and asked a -policeman to arrest me. I told him that I was hungry and wanted -something to eat. The man was highly amused.</p> - -<p>"You must break the law before the king feeds you," he said.</p> - -<p>"But I have been begging," I persisted.</p> - -<p>"If you want me to arrest you, break a window," said the man. "Then I'll -take you before a bailie and he'll put you into a reformatory, where -they'll give you a jail-bird's education. You'll come out worse than you -went in, and it's ten to one in favour of your life ending with a hempen -cravat round your neck."</p> - -<p>The man put his hand in his pocket and took out a sixpence, which he -handed to me.</p> - -<p>"Run away now and get something to eat," he shouted in an angry voice, -and I hurried away hugging the silver coin in my hand. That night I got -twopence more, and fed well for the first time in a whole week.</p> - -<p>I met the policeman once again in later years. He was a Socialist, and -happened to have the unhealthy job of protecting blacklegs from a crowd -of strikers when I met him for the second time. While pretending to keep -the strikers back he was urging them to rush by him and set upon the -blacklegs—the men who had not the backbone to fight for justice and -right. Not being, as a Socialist, a believer in charity, he feigned to -be annoyed when I reminded him of his generous action of years before.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">MOLESKIN JOE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Soft words may win a woman's love, or soothe a maiden's fears.</div> -<div>But hungry stomachs heed them not—the belly hasn't ears."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>The Maxims of Moleskin Joe</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>That night I slept in a watchman's hut on the streets, and in the -morning I obtained a slice of bread from a religious lady, who gave me a -long harangue on the necessity of leading a holy life. Afterwards I went -away from Paisley, and out on the road I came upon a man who was walking -along by himself. He was whistling a tune, and his hands were deep in -his trousers' pockets. He had knee-straps around his knees, and a long -skiver of tin wedged between one of the straps and the legs of his -trousers, which were heavy with red muck frozen on the cloth. The cloth -itself was hard, and rattled like wood against the necks of his boots. -He was very curiously dressed. He wore a pea-jacket, which bore marks of -the earth of many strange sleeping-places. A grey cap covered a heavy -cluster of thick dark hair. But the man's waistcoat was the most -noticeable article of apparel. It was made of velvet, ornamented with -large ivory buttons which ran down the front in parallel rows. Each of -his boots was of different colour; one was deep brown, the other dark -chrome; and they were also different in size and shape.</p> - -<p>In later years I often wore similar boots myself. We navvies call them -"subs." and they can be bought very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> cheaply in rag-stores and -second-hand clothes-shops. One boot has always the knack of wearing -better than its fellow. The odd good boot is usually picked up by a -rag-picker, and in course of time it finds its way into a rag-store, -where it is thrown amongst hundreds of others, which are always ready -for further use at their old trade. A pair of odd boots may be got for a -shilling or less, and most navvies wear them.</p> - -<p>The man's face was strongly boned and fierce of expression. He had not -shaved for weeks. His shoulders were broad, and he stood well over six -feet in height. At once I guessed that he was very strong, so I liked -the man even before I spoke to him.</p> - -<p>"Where are you for?" he asked when I overtook him.</p> - -<p>"God knows," I answered. "Where are you for?"</p> - -<p>"Christ knows," he replied, and went on with the tune which he had left -off to question me.</p> - -<p>When he had finished whistling he turned to me again.</p> - -<p>"Are you down and out?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I slept out last night," I answered.</p> - -<p>"The first time?" he enquired.</p> - -<p>"I slept out for a whole week."</p> - -<p>"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," he -said, by way of consolation. "Had you anything to eat this mornin'?"</p> - -<p>"A slice of bread," I said; then added, "and a lot of advice along with -it from an old lady."</p> - -<p>"Damn her advice!" cried the man angrily. "The belly hasn't ears. A -slice of bread is danged mealy grub for a youngster."</p> - -<p>He stuck his hand in the pocket of his pea-jacket and drew out a chunk -of currant bread, which he handed to me.</p> - -<p>"Try that, cully," he said.</p> - -<p>I ate it ravenously, for I was feeling very hungry.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>"By cripes! you've a stomach," said my companion, when I had finished -eating. "Where are you for, anyhow?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I'm looking for work."</p> - -<p>"It's not work you need; it's rest," said the stranger.</p> - -<p>"You've been working," I replied, looking at his covering of muck. "Why -don't you clean your trousers and shoes?"</p> - -<p>"If you were well fed you'd be as impudent as myself," said the man. -"And clean my trousers and shoes! What's the good of being clean?"</p> - -<p>"It puts the dirt away."</p> - -<p>"It does not; it only shifts it from one place to another. And as to -work—well, I work now and again, I'm sorry to say, although I done all -the work that a man is put into the world to do before I was twenty-one. -What's your name?"</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn. What's yours?"</p> - -<p>"Joe—Moleskin Joe, my mates calls me. Have you any tin?"</p> - -<p>"Twopence," I replied, showing the man the remainder of the eightpence -which I had picked up the night before.</p> - -<p>"You're savin' up your fortune," he said with fine irony. "I haven't a -penny itself."</p> - -<p>"Where did you get the currant cake?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Stole it."</p> - -<p>"And the waistcoat?"</p> - -<p>"Stole it," said the man, and then continued with thinly-veiled sarcasm -in his voice. "My name's Moleskin Joe, as I've told you already. I don't -mind havin' seen my father or mother, and I was bred in a workhouse. I'm -forty years of age—more or less—and I started work when I was seven. -I've been in workhouse, reformatory, prison, and church. I went to -prison of my own free will when the times were bad and I couldn't get a -mouthful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> of food outside, but it was always against my will that I went -to church. I can fight like hell and drink like blazes, and now that you -know as much about my life as I know myself you'll maybe be satisfied. -You're the most impudent brat that I have ever met."</p> - -<p>The man made the last assertion in a quiet voice, as if stating a fact -which could not be contradicted. I did not feel angry or annoyed with -the man who made sarcastic remarks so frankly and good-humouredly. For a -long while I kept silence and the two of us plodded on together.</p> - -<p>"Why do you drink?" I asked at last.</p> - -<p>"Why do I drink?" repeated the man in a voice of wonder. "Such a funny -question! If God causes a man to thirst He'll allow him to drink, for -He's not as bad a chap as some of the parsons make Him out to be. Drink -draws a man nearer to heaven and multiplies the stars; and 'Drink when -you can, the drouth will come' is my motto. Do you smoke or chew?"</p> - -<p>He pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket, bit a piece from the end of -it, and handed the plug to me. Now and again I had taken a whiff at -Micky's Jim's pipe, and I liked a chew of tobacco. Without answering -Moleskin's question I took the proffered tobacco and bit a piece off it.</p> - -<p>"There's some hope for you yet," was all he said.</p> - -<p>We walked along together, and my mate asked a farmer who was standing by -the roadside for a few coppers to help us on our way.</p> - -<p>"Go to the devil!" said the farmer.</p> - -<p>"Never mind," Moleskin remarked to me when we got out of hearing. -"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it in this -world."</p> - -<p>Afterwards we talked of many things, and Joe told me of many adventures -with women who were not good and men who were evil. When money was -plentiful he lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> large and drank between drinks as long as he was -able to stand on his feet.</p> - -<p>The man impressed me, and, what was most wonderful, he seemed to enjoy -life. Nights spent out in the cold, days when hardly a crust of food was -obtainable, were looked upon as a matter of course by him.</p> - -<p>"Let us live to-day, if we can, and the morrow can go be damned!" he -said, and this summed up the whole of his philosophy as far as I could -see. It would be fine to live such a life as his, I thought, but such a -life was not for me. I had my own people depending on my earnings, and I -must make money to send home to Glenmornan. If I had a free foot I would -live like Joe, and at that moment I envied the man who was born in a -workhouse and who had never seen a father or mother.</p> - -<p>A lot of events took place on the road. Passing along we overtook a -dour-faced man who carried a spade over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"He's goin' to dig his own grave," said Moleskin to me.</p> - -<p>"How do you know?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'd like to know how a man is goin' to live long if he works on a -day like this!"</p> - -<p>Just as we came up to him a young woman passed by and gave us an -impudent glance, as Moleskin called it. She was good to look at and had -a taking way with her. As she went by the man with the spade turned and -looked after her.</p> - -<p>"Did ye see that woman?" he asked Moleskin when we came abreast.</p> - -<p>"By God, I'm not blind!" said my friend.</p> - -<p>"Dinna sweer," said the man with the spade. "'Tis an evil habit."</p> - -<p>"'Tisn't a habit," said Joe. "'Tis a gift."</p> - -<p>"'Tis a gift frae the deevil," replied the other man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> "A gift frae the -deevil, that's what it is. 'Tis along with that woman that ye should be, -though God forgi'e me for callin' her a woman, for her house is on the -way tae Sheol goin' doon tae the chambers of death. I wadna talk tae her -wi' muckle mooth sine she be a scarlet woman with a wily heart."</p> - -<p>"What are you jawin' about?" asked Moleskin, who seemed at a loss what -to make of the man with the spade, while for myself I did not in the -least understand him.</p> - -<p>"Have you a sixpence?" asked Joe suddenly.</p> - -<p>"A sixpence?" queried the man. "Gin that I hae, what is it tae ye?"</p> - -<p>"If you have a sixpence you should have given it to that woman when she -was passin'. She's a lusty wench."</p> - -<p>"Gi'e a sixpence to that woman!" replied the stranger. "I wadna do it, -mon, if she was lyin' for death by the roadside. I'm a Chreestian."</p> - -<p>"I would give up your company in heaven for hers in hell any day," said -Moleskin, as the man with the spade turned into a turnip field by the -roadside. "And never look too much into other people's faults or you're -apt to forget your own!" roared Joe, by way of a parting shot.</p> - -<p>"Don't you think that I had the best of that argument?" Joe asked me -five minutes later.</p> - -<p>"What was it all about?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what he was jawin' at half of the time," said Joe. "But -his talk about the Christian was a damned good hit against me. However, -I got in two good hits myself! The one about her company in hell and the -one about lookin' too much into other people's faults were a pair up for -me. I think that I did win, Flynn, and between me and you I never like -to get the worst of either an argument or a fight."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">MOLESKIN JOE AS MY FATHER</span></h2> - -<p class="center">"The opinions of a man who argues with his fist are always -respected."—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe.</span></p> - -<p>About midday we met a red-faced farmer driving a spring-cart along the road.</p> - -<p>"Where are you bound for?" he called to me as he reined up his pony.</p> - -<p>"What the hell is it to you?" asked Moleskin, assuming a pugilistic pose -all of a sudden. Love of fighting was my mate's great trait, and I found -it out in later years. He would fight his own shadow for the very fun of -the thing. "The man who argues with his fist is always respected," he -often told me.</p> - -<p>"I'm lookin' for a young lad who can milk and take care of beasts in a -byre," replied the man nervously, for Joe's remark seemed to have -frightened him. "Can the youngster milk?"</p> - -<p>"I can," I answered gleefully. I had never caught hold of a cow's teat -in my life, but I wanted work at all costs, and did not mind telling a -lie. A moment before I was in a despondent mood, seeing nothing in front -of me but the life of the road for years to come, but now, with the -prospect of work and wages before me, I felt happy. Already I was -forming dreams of the future, and my mind was once more turning to the -homecoming to Glenmornan when I became a rich man. A lot of my dreams -had been dashed to pieces already, but I was easily captured and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> made -the slave of new ones. Also, there was a great deal of my old pride -slipping away. There was a time when I would not touch a cow's teat, but -the Glenmornan pride that looked down upon such work was already gone.</p> - -<p>"Milk!" cried Moleskin in answer to the last remark of the farmer. "You -should see my son under a cow! He's the boy for a job like that, you'll -find. What wages are you goin' to offer him?"</p> - -<p>"Ten pounds from now till May-day, if he suits," replied the farmer.</p> - -<p>"He'll suit you all right," said Joe. "But he'll not go with you for one -penny less than eleven pounds."</p> - -<p>"I'll take ten pounds, Moleskin," I cried. I did not want to sleep -another night on the cold ground.</p> - -<p>"Hold your blessed jaw," growled my mate. Then he turned to the farmer -again and went on:</p> - -<p>"Eleven pounds and not one penny less. Forbye, you must give me -something for lettin' him go with you, as I do not like to lose the -child."</p> - -<p>After a great deal of haggling, during which no notice was taken of me, -a bargain was struck, the outcome of which was that I should receive the -sum of ten guineas at the end of six months spent in the employ of the -farmer. My "father" received five shillings, paid on the nail, because -he allowed me to go to work.</p> - -<p>"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," said -Joe, as he shoved the silver into his pocket and cast a farewell glance -at me as I climbed into the cart. I caught my mate's square look for a -minute. In the left eye a faint glimmer appeared and the eyelid slowly -descended. Then he bit a piece off the end of his plug, started -whistling a tune and went on his way.</p> - -<p>The farmer set the young cob at a gallop, and in about a quarter of an -hour we arrived at his place, which was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> called Braxey Farm. When -evening came round my master found that I could not milk.</p> - -<p>"You'll learn," he said, not at all unkindly, and proceeded to teach me -the correct way in which to coax a cow's udder. In a fortnight's time I -was one of the best milkers in the byre.</p> - -<p>Just off the stable I had a room to sleep in, an evil-smelling and dirty -little place crammed with horses' harness and agricultural implements. -But after the nights spent on the snow I thought the little room and the -bed the most cosy room and bed in the world. I slept there all alone, -and by night I could hear the horses pawing the floor of the stable, and -sometimes I was wakened by the noise they made and thought that somebody -had gotten into my room.</p> - -<p>I started work at five o'clock in the morning and finished at seven in -the evening, and when Sunday came round I had to feed the ploughman's -horses in addition to my ordinary work.</p> - -<p>I liked the place in a negative sort of way; it was dull and depressing, -but it was better than the life of the road. Now and again I got a -letter from home, and my people were very angry because I had sent so -little money to them during the summer months. For all that, I liked to -get a letter from home, and I loved to hear what the people whom I had -known since childhood were doing. On the farm there was no one to speak -to me or call me friend. The two red-cheeked servant girls who helped me -at the milking hardly ever took any notice of me, a kid lifted from the -toll-road. They were decent ploughmen's daughters, and they let me know -as much whenever I tried to become familiar. After all, I think they -liked me to speak to them, for they could thus get an excuse to dwell on -their own superior merits.</p> - -<p>"Workin' wi' a lad picked off the roads, indeed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> Whoever heard of such -a thing for respectable lassies!" they exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Even the ploughman who worked on the farm ignored me when he was out of -temper. When in a good humour he insulted me by way of pastime.</p> - -<p>"You're an Eerish pig!" he roared at me one evening.</p> - -<p>I am impulsive, and my temper, never the best, was becoming worse daily. -When angry I am blind to everything but my own grievance, and the -ploughman's taunt made me angrier than ever I had been in my life -before. He had just come into the byre where the girls and I were -milking. He was a married man, but he loved to pass loose jokes with the -two young respectable lassies, and his filthy utterances amused them.</p> - -<p>Although the ploughman was a big hardy fellow, his taunt angered me, and -made me blind to his physical advantages. I rushed at him head down and -butted him in the stomach. He flattened out in the sink amidst the -cow-dung, and once I got him down I jumped on him and rained a shower of -blows on his face and body. The girls screamed, the cows jumped wildly -in the stalls, and we were in imminent danger of getting kicked to -death. So I heard later, but at that moment I saw nothing but the face -which was bleeding under my blows. The ploughman was much stronger than -I, and gripping me round the waist he turned me over, thus placing me -under himself. I struggled gamely, but the man suddenly hit my head -against the flagged walk and I went off in a swoon. When I came to -myself, the farmer, the two girls, and the ploughman were standing over -me.</p> - -<p>I struggled to my feet, rushed at the man again, and taking him by -surprise I was able to shove him against one of the cows in the stall -nearest him. The animal kicked him in the leg, and, mad with rage, he -reached forward and gripped me by the throat with the intention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> of -strangling me. But I was not afraid; the outside world was non-existent -to me at that moment, and I wanted to fight until I fell again.</p> - -<p>The farmer interposed. We were separated and the ploughman left the -byre. That night I did not sleep; my anger burned like a fire until -dawn. The next day I felt dizzy and unwell, but that was the only evil -result of the fight. The ploughman never spoke to me again, civilly or -otherwise, and I was left in peace.</p> - -<p>From start to finish the work on Braxey Farm was very wearisome, and the -surroundings were soul-killing and spiritless. By nature I am sensitive -and refined. A woman of untidy appearance disgusts me, a man who talks -filthily without reason is utterly repellent to me. The ploughman with -his loose jokes I loathed, the girls I despised even more than they -despised me. Their dislike was more affected than real; my dislike was -real though less ostentatious. It gave me no pleasure to tell a dirty -slut that she was dirty, but a dirty woman annoyed me in those days. I -could not imagine a man falling in love with one of those women, with -their short, inelegant petticoats and hobnailed shoes caked with the -dried muck of the farmyard. I could not imagine love in the midst of -such filth, such squalid poverty. But I did not then understand the -meaning of love; to me it was something which would exist when Norah -Ryan became a lady, and when I had a grand house wherein to pay her -homage. I am afraid that my knowledge of life was very small.</p> - -<p>The talk of the two girls gave me the first real insight into love and -all that it cloaks with the false covering of poetical illusion. Every -poetical ideal, every charm and beauty which I had associated with love -was dispelled by the talk of those two women. For a while I did not -believe the things of which they spoke. My mind revolted. The ploughman -and the two girls continued their disgusting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> anecdotes. I did my best -not to listen. Knowing that I hated their talk the servants would -persist in talking, and every particle of information collected by them -was in course of time given to me.</p> - -<p>My outlook on life became cynical and sour. I was a sort of outcast -among men, liking few and liked by none. When the end of the season came -I was pleased to get clear of Braxey Farm; the more familiar I became -with the people the more I disliked them. The farmer paid me nine -pounds, and explained that he retained the other thirty shillings -because he had to learn me how to milk.</p> - -<p>"Your feyther was a great liar," he added.</p> - -<p>Out of my wages I sent seven pounds home to Glenmornan and kept the -remainder for my own use, as I did not know when I could get a next job. -My mother sent me a letter that another brother was born to me—the -second since I left home—and asking me for some more money to help them -along with the rent. But my disposition was changing; my outlook on life -was becoming bitter, and I hated to be slave to farmers, landlords, -parents, and brothers and sisters. Every new arrival into the family was -reported to me as something for which I should be grateful. "Send home -some more money, you have another brother," ran the letters, and a sense -of unfairness crept over me. The younger members of the family were -taking the very life-blood out of my veins, and on account of them I had -to suffer kicks, snubs, cold and hunger. New brothers and sisters were -no pleasure to me. I rebelled against the imposition and did not answer -the letter.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">ON THE DEAD END</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"He tramped through the colourless winter land or swined in the scorching heat,</div> -<div>The dry skin hacked on his sapless hands or blistering on his feet;</div> -<div>He wallowed in mire, unseen, unknown where your houses of pleasure rise,</div> -<div>And hapless hungry and chilled to the bone he builded the edifice."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>A Song of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In this true story, as in real life, men and women crop up for a moment, -do something or say something, then go away and probably never reappear -again. In my story there is no train of events or sequence of incidents -leading up to a desired end. When I started writing of my life I knew -not how I would end my story; and even yet, seeing that one thing -follows another so closely, I hardly know when to lay down my pen and -say that the tale is told. Sometimes I say, "I'll write my life up to -this day and no further," but suddenly it comes to me that to-morrow may -furnish a more fitting climax, and so on my story runs. In fiction you -settle upon the final chapter before you begin the first, and every -event is described and placed in the fabric of the story to suit an end -already in view. A story of real life, like real life itself, has no -beginning, no end. Something happens before and after; the first chapter -succeeds another and another follows the last. The threads of a made-up -story are like the ribs of an open umbrella, far apart at one end and -joined together at the other. You close the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> umbrella and it becomes -straight; you draw the threads of the story together at the end and the -plot is made clear. Emanating as it does from the mind of a man or -woman, the plot is worked up so that it arouses interest and compels -attention. Such an incident is unnecessary; then dispense with it. Such -a character is undesirable; then away with him. Such a conversation is -unfitting; then substitute one more suitable. But I, writing a true -story, cannot substitute imaginary talk for real, nor false characters -for true, if I am faithful to myself and the task imposed upon me when I -took to writing the story of my life. No doubt I shall have some readers -weak enough to be shocked by my disclosures; men and women, who like -ascetic hermits, fight temptation by running from it, and avoid sin by -shutting their eyes to it. But these need not be taken into account, -their weakness is not worthy of attention. I merely tell the truth, -speak of things as I have seen them, of people as I have known them, and -of incidents as one who has taken part in them. Truth needs no -apologies, frankness does not deserve reproof. I write of the ills which -society inflicts on individuals like myself, and when possible I lay -every wound open to the eyes of the world. I believe that there is an -Influence for Good working through the ages, and it is only by laying -our wounds open that we can hope to benefit by the Influence. Who -doctors the wounds which we hide from everybody's eyes?</p> - -<p>It was beautiful weather and the last day of May, 1906, when I left -Braxey Farm and took to the road again. I obtained work, before night -fell, on an estate in the vicinity. The factor, a pompous man with a -large stomach, gave me the job; and I got lodgings with a labourer who -worked on the estate. My pay was eighteen shillings a week, and I -stopped a fortnight. At the end of that period I got sacked. This was -how it happened.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>Two men, a fat man and a fatter, came to the spot where I was working -on the estate grounds. The fat man was the factor.</p> - -<p>"Are you working here?" asked the fat man.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered.</p> - -<p>"'Yes, sir,' you mean," said the fatter man.</p> - -<p>"I mean 'yes,'" I said. The man looked overbearing, and he annoyed me.</p> - -<p>"I'm the master of this place," said the fatter man. "You must address -me as 'sir' when speaking to me."</p> - -<p>A fat man looks awfully ridiculous with his big stomach, his short -breath, and short legs. An ugly man may look dignified; a gargoyle may -even possess the dignity of unrivalled ugliness, but a fat man with a -red face who poses as a dignified being is very funny to see. I never -raise my hat to any man, and I was not going to say "sir" to the blown -bubble in front of me.</p> - -<p>"You had better say 'sir,'" said the factor. "This gentleman is your -master."</p> - -<p>The word "master" is repellent to me.</p> - -<p>"Sir be damned!" I snapped out.</p> - -<p>"Pay him off this evening," was all that gentleman said; and that -evening I was on the road again.</p> - -<p>Afterwards I kept mucking about on farms and other places, working a day -here and a week there, earning a guinea clear at one job and spending it -while looking for the next. Sometimes I tramped for days at a time, -sleeping in haysheds, barns and ditches, and "bumming my grub," as we -tramps say, from houses by the roadside. Often in the darkness of the -night I lit my little fire of dried sticks under shelter of a rock or -tree, and boiled my billy of tea in the red flames. Then I would fall -asleep while looking at the pictures in the embers, and my dreams would -take me back again to Glenmornan and the road that led from Greenanore -to my home on the steep hillside of Donegal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Often and often I went -home to my own people in my nightly dreams. When morning came I would -set out again on my journey, leaving nothing to tell of my passing but -the ashes of my midnight fire. I had nothing to cheer me, no hopes, no -joys, no amusements. It was hard to obtain constant employment; a farmer -kept me a fortnight, a drainer a week, a roadmender a day, and -afterwards it was the road, the eternal, soul-killing road again. When I -had money I spent it easily; spending was my nearest approach to -pleasure. When I had aught in my purse I lived in suspense, thinking of -the time when all would be spent, but when the coin was gone I had the -contentment of a man who knows that he can fall no lower. Always, -however, I sought for work; I wanted something to do. My desire to -labour became a craze, an obsession, and nothing else mattered if I got -plenty of work to do.</p> - -<p>"You are an idle, useless-lookin' lump o' a man," the women in roadside -cottages said to me. "Why don't you work?" Looking for work meant -laziness and idleness to them. For me they felt all the contempt which -people with fixed abodes feel for vagabonds. They did not hate me; of -that I was not worthy. They were very human, which is the worst that can -be said of them, and they despised me. Work was scarce; I looked light -and young, and a boy is not much good to a farmer. Yet for my age I was -very strong, and many a man much older than myself I could work blind, -if only I got the chance. But no one seemed to want me. "Run away, -little impudence, and hide behind your big sister's petticoats!" were -the words that I was greeted with when I asked for a job.</p> - -<p>For a whole month I earned my living by gathering discarded metal from -the corporation middens near Glasgow and selling the scrap to -proprietors of the city rag-stores. Starvation has hold of the forelock -of a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> who works at that job. Sometimes I made tenpence a day. By -night I slept on the midden, or, to be more exact, in the midden. I dug -a little hole in the warm refuse sent out from the corporation stables, -and curled myself up there and went to sleep, somewhat after the manner -of Job of old. Once a tipster employed me to sell his tips outside the -enclosure of Ayr racecourse. I gave up that job quickly, for I could -only earn sixpence a day. During the end of the summer I made a few -shillings by carrying luggage for passengers aboard the steamer at -G—— Pier, but in the end the porters on the quay chased me away. I was -depriving decent men of their livelihood, they said.</p> - -<p>About this time I met Tom MacGuire, a countryman of my own, an -anarchist, a man with great courage, strength, and love of justice. Tom -said that all property was theft, all religion was fraud, and a life -lacking adventure was a life for a pig. He had just come out of jail -after serving six months' hard because he shot the crow<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> in a Greenock -public-house. I met him on the roadside, where he was sitting reading an -English translation of some of Schopenhauer's works. We sat down -together and talked of one thing and another, and soon were the best of -friends. I told Tom the story of the man who wanted me to say "Yes, -sir," when speaking to him.</p> - -<p>"I have a job on that man's place to-night," said Tom. "Will you come -and give me a hand?"</p> - -<p>"What is the job?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Tom lowered the left eyelid slightly as I looked at him. That was his -only answer. I guessed instinctively that Tom's job was a good one, and -so I promised to accompany him.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p><p>We worked together on that estate not only that night, but for some -weeks afterwards. Operations started at midnight and finished at four -o'clock in the morning. We stopped in Paisley, and we went into the town -in the morning, each on a different route, and sold the proceeds of our -night's labour. At the end of a fortnight, or, to be exact, fifteen -days' work on the estate, Tom was accosted by two policemen as he was -going into Paisley. His belly looked bigger than any alderman's, and no -wonder! When searched he had three pheasants under his waistcoat. -Because of that he got six months, and the magistrate spoke hard things -against Tom's character. For all that, my mate was a sound, good fellow. -In a compact made beforehand it was understood that if one was gripped -by the law he would not give his comrade away, and Tom was good to his -word when put to the test. From that time forward I forsook poaching. I -loved it for its risks alone, but I was not an adept at the art, and I -could never make a living at the game. I felt sorry for poor Tom and I -have never seen him since.</p> - -<p>Once, eighteen months after I had left Braxey Farm, I wrote home to my -own people. I was longing to hear from somebody who cared for me. In -reply an angry letter came from my mother. "Why was I not sending home -some money?" she asked. Another child had come into the family and there -were many mouths to fill. I would never have a day's luck in all my life -if I forgot my father and mother. I was working with a drainer at the -time and I had thirty shillings in my possession. This I sent home, but -not with a willing heart, for I did not know when I would be idle again. -Three days later my mother wrote asking me to send some more money, for -they were badly needing it. I did not answer the letter, for I got -sacked that evening, and I went out on the road again with five -shillings in my pocket and new thoughts in my head, thoughts that had -never come there before.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>Why had my parents brought me into the world? I asked myself. Did they -look to the future? At home I heard them say when a child was born to -such and such a person that it was the will of God, just as if man and -woman had nothing to do with the affair. I wished that I had never been -born. My parents had sinned against me in bringing me into the world in -which I had to fight for crumbs with the dogs of the gutter. And now -they wanted money when I was hardly able to keep myself alive on what I -earned. Bringing me into the world and then living on my labour—such an -absurd and unjust state of things! I was angry, very angry, with myself -and with everyone else, with the world and the people on it.</p> - -<p>The evening was wet; the rain came down heavily, and I got drenched to -the skin. While wandering in the town of Kilmacolm, my eye caught the -light of a fire through the window-blind of an inn parlour. It would be -very warm inside there. My flesh was shivery and my feet were cold, like -lumps of ice, in my battered and worn boots. I went in, sat down, and -when the bar-tender approached me, I called for a half-glass of whisky. -I did not intend to drink it, having never drunk intoxicating liquor -before, but I had to order something and was quite content to pay -twopence for the heat of the fire. It was so very comfortable there that -I almost fell asleep three or four times. Suddenly I began to feel -thirsty; it seemed as if I was drying up inside, and the glass of -whisky, sparkling brightly as the firelight caught it, looked very -tempting. I raised it to my mouth, just to wet my lips, and the whisky -tasted good. Almost without realising what I was doing I swallowed the -contents of the glass.</p> - -<p>At that moment a man entered, a man named Fergus Boyle, who belonged to -the same arm of the Glen as myself, and he was then employed on a farm -in the neighbourhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> I was pleased to see him. I had not seen a -Glenmornan man since I had left Micky's Jim's squad, but Fergus brought -no news from home; he had been in Scotland for over five years without a -break. Without asking me, he called for "two schooners<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> of beer, with -a stick<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> in iviry wan of them."</p> - -<p>"Don't pull the hare's foot,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> for I don't drink, Fergus," I said. I -did not want to take any more liquor. I could hardly realise that I had -just been drinking a moment before, the act being so unpremeditated. I -came into the inn parlour solely to warm myself, and thinking still of -that more than anything else I could hardly grasp what had resulted. I -had a great dislike in my heart for drunken men, and I did not want to -become one. Fergus sniffed at the glass beside me and winked knowingly. -Evidences were against my assertion, and if I did not drink with Fergus -he would say that I did not like his company. He was the first -Glenmornan man whom I had seen for years, and I could not offend him. -When the bar-tender brought the drinks I drained the schooner at one -gulp, partly to please Fergus and partly because I was very dry. I stood -treat then myself, as decency required, and my remembrance of subsequent -events is very vague. In a misty sort of way I saw Fergus putting up his -fists, as a Glenmornan man should when insulted, and knocking somebody -down. There was a scuffle afterwards and I was somehow mixed up in it -and laying out round me for all I was worth.</p> - -<p>Dawn was breaking when I found myself lying on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> toll-road, racked by -a headache and suffering from extreme thirst. It was still raining and -my clothes were covered with mud; one boot was gone and one sleeve of my -coat was hanging by a mere thread. I found the sum of sevenpence in my -pockets—the rest of the money had disappeared. I looked round for -Fergus, but could not see him. About a hundred paces along the road I -came on his cap and I saw the trace of his body in the wet muck. -Probably he had slept there for a part of the night and crept away when -the rain brought him to his senses. I looked high and low for my lost -boot, but could not find it. I crept over the wall surrounding a cottage -near the road and discovered a pair of boots in an outhouse. I put them -on when I came back to the road and threw my own old one away. The pain -in my head was almost intolerable, and my mind went back to the stories -told by hard drinkers of the cure known as the "hair of the dog that bit -you." So it was that I went into Kilmacolm again, not knowing how I came -out, and waited until the pubs opened, when I drank a bottle of beer and -a half-glass of whisky. My headache cleared away and I had threepence -left and felt happy. By getting drunk the night before I made myself -impervious to the rain and blind to the discomforts of the cold and the -slush of the roadway. Drunkenness had no more terrors for me, and as a -matter of course I often got drunk when a cold night rested over the -houseless road, and when my body shuddered at the thought of spending -hour after hour in the open. Drink kept me company, and there was no -terror that we could not face together, drink and I.</p> - -<p>I never have seen Fergus since, but often I think of the part which he -played in my life. If he had not come into the inn at the moment when I -was sitting by the fire I would probably never have drunk another glass -of spirits<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> in my life. I do not see anything wrong in taking liquor as -long as a man makes it his slave. Drink was a slave to me. I used it for -the betterment of my soul, and for the comfort of the body. In -conformity with the laws of society an individual like me must sleep -under a wet hedgerow now and again. There is nothing in the world more -dismal. The water drops off the tree like water from the walls of a -dungeon, splashes on your face, maybe dropping into the eyes when you -open them. The hands are frozen, the legs are cold, heavy and dead; you -hum little songs to yourself over and over again, ever the same song, -for you have not the will to start a fresh one, and the cold creeps all -over the body, coming closer and closer, like a thief to your heart. -Sometimes it catches men who are too cold to move even from the spectre -of death. The nights spent in the cold are horrible, are soul-killing. -Only drink can draw a man from his misery; only by getting drunk may a -man sleep well on the cold ground. So I have found, and so it was that I -got drunk when I slept out on a winter's night. Maybe I would be dead in -the morning, I sometimes thought, but no one would regret that, not even -myself. Drink is a servant wonderfully efficient. Only when sober could -I see myself as I really was, an outcast, a man rejected by society, and -despised and forgotten. Often I would sit alone in a quiet place and -think my life was hardly worth living. But somehow I kept on living a -life that was to me as smoke is to the eyes, bitter and cruel. As time -wore on I became primeval, animalised and brutish. Everything which I -could lay hands on and which would serve my purposes was mine. The milk -left by milkmen at the doors of houses in early morning was mine. How -often in the grey dawn of a winter morning did I steal through a front -gate silently as a cat and empty the milk-can hanging over some -doorstep, then slip so silently away again that no one either heard my -coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> or going. It was most exciting, and excitement is one of the -necessaries of life. Excitement appeals to me, I hanker after it as a -hungry man hankers after food. I like to see people getting excited over -something.</p> - -<p>One evening in early spring, nearly two years after I had left Braxey -Farm, I was passing a large house near G——, or was it P——? I now -forget which of these towns was nearest the house. I had at that time a -strange partiality for a curious form of amusement. I liked to steal up -to large houses in the darkness and watch the occupants at dinner.</p> - -<p>A large party was at dinner in the house on this spring evening, and I -crept into the shrubbery and looked through the window into the lighted -room. With the slushy earth under my body I lay and watched the people -inside eating, drinking, and making merry. At the further end of the -table a big fat woman in evening dress sat facing me, and she looked -irrepressibly merry. Her low-cut frock exposed a great spread of bulging -flesh stretching across from shoulder to shoulder. It was a most -disgusting sight, and should have been hidden.</p> - -<p>The damp of the earth came through my clothing and I rose to my feet, -intending to go away. Before me lay the darkness, the night, and the -cold. I am, as I said, very impulsive, and long for excitement. Some -rash act would certainly enliven the dull dark hours. In rising, my hand -encountered a large pebble, and suddenly an idea entered my mind. What -would the old lady do if the pebble suddenly crashed through the window? -If such a thing occurred it would be most amusing to witness her -actions. I stepped out of the shrubbery in order to have a clear swing -of the arm, and threw the stone through the window. There was a tinkling -fall of broken glass, and everyone in the room turned to the -window—everyone in the room except the old lady. She rose to her feet, -and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> in another moment the door of the house opened and she stood in the -doorway, her large form outlined against the light in the hall. So -quickly had she come out that I had barely time to steal into the -shrubbery. From there I crept backwards towards the road, but before I -had completed half the journey I heard to my horror the fat lady calling -for a dog. Then I heard a short, sharp yelp, and I turned and ran for -all I was worth. Before I reached the gate a fairly-sized black animal -was at my heels, squealing as I had heard dogs in Ireland squeal when -pursuing a rabbit. I turned round suddenly, fearing to get bitten in the -legs, and the animal, unable to restrain his mad rush, careered past. He -tried to turn round, but my boot shot out and the blow took him on the -head. This was an action that he did not relish, and he hurried back to -the house, whimpering all the way. In a moment I was on the road, and I -ran for a long distance, feeling that I had had enough excitement for -one night. Needless to say I never threw a stone through a window again. -I had been out of work for quite a long while and hunger was again -pinching me. I remember well the day following my encounter with the fat -lady and her dog, for on that day I sold my shirt in a rag-store in -Glasgow and got the sum of sixpence for the same.</p> - -<p>It was now two years and a half since I had seen Micky's Jim or any -members of his squad, but often during that time I thought of Norah Ryan -and the part she played in my life. Almost daily since leaving the squad -I had thoughts of her in my mind. For a while I was angry with myself -for allowing such thoughts to master me, but in the end I became -resigned to them. Norah's fair face would persist in rising before my -vision, and when other dreams, other illusions, were shattered, the -memory of Norah Ryan still exercised a spell over me. In the end I -resigned myself to the remembrances of her, and in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> course of time -remembrance gave rise to longings and I wanted to see her again. Now, -instead of being almost entirely mental, the longing, different from the -youthful longing, was both of the mind and body. I wanted to kiss her, -take her on my knees and fondle her. But these desires were always -damped by the thought of the other man, so much so that I recoiled from -the very thought even of meeting Norah again.</p> - -<p>Since meeting Gourock Ellen and hearing the loose talk of the women in -Braxey Farm most women were repulsive in my sight. For all that, Norah -Ryan was ever the same in my eyes. To me she was a wonder, a mystery, a -dream. But when I desired to go and see her a certain pride held me -back. She allowed another man to kiss her. I never kissed her, partly -because kissing was practically unknown in Glenmornan, and partly -because I thought Norah far above the mere caresses of my lips. To kiss -her would be a violation and a wrong. Why had she allowed Morrison to -kiss her? I often asked myself. She must have loved him, and, loving -him, she would have no thought for me. Perhaps she would be annoyed if I -went to see her, and it is wrong to annoy those whom we love. True love -to a man should mean the doing of that which is most desirable in the -eyes of her whom he loves. The man who disputes this has never loved; if -he thinks that he has, he is mistaken. He has been merely governed by -that most bestial passion, lust.</p> - -<p>The year had already taken the best part of autumn to itself, and I was -going along to Greenock by the Glasgow road when I came to a farmhouse. -There I met with Micky's Jim and a squad of potato-diggers. It gave me -pleasure to meet Jim again, and, the pleasure being mutual, he took me -into the byre and gave me food and drink. There were many Glenmornan -people in the squad, but there were none of those who were in it in my -time, and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> these latter people you may be certain I lost no time in -asking. Gourock Ellen and Annie had not come back that season, and -nobody knew where they had gone and what had become of them.</p> - -<p>"It does not matter, anyhow," said Jim, who, curiously enough, had -nothing but contempt for women of that class.</p> - -<p>Norah Ryan, first in my thoughts, was the last for whom I made -enquiries.</p> - -<p>"She left us a week ago, and went away to Glasgow," said Jim.</p> - -<p>"Indeed she did, poor girl," said one of the Glenmornan women.</p> - -<p>"And her such a fine soncy lass too! Wasn't it a great pity that it -happened?" said another.</p> - -<p>"What happened?" I asked, bewildered. "Is she not well?"</p> - -<p>"It's worse than that," said a woman.</p> - -<p>"Much worse!" cackled another, shaking her head.</p> - -<p>"The farmer's son kept gaddin' about with her all last year," broke in -Jim, and I noticed the eyes of everybody in the byre turned on me. "But -he has left her to herself now," he concluded.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad to hear it," I said.</p> - -<p>"I think that ye had a notion of her yerself," said Jim, "and the -farmer's son was a dirty beast, anyhow."</p> - -<p>"Why has she left the squad?" I asked again. "Has she got married?"</p> - -<p>"When she left here she was in the family-way, ye know," answered -Micky's Jim. "Such a funny thing, and no one would have thought of it, -the dirty slut. Ye would think that butter would not melt in her mouth."</p> - -<p>"That's just so," chorused the women. "Wan would think that butter would -not melt in the girl's mouth."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>"She was a dirty wench," said Micky's Jim, as if giving a heavy -decision.</p> - -<p>I was stunned by the news and could hardly trust my ears. Also I got mad -with Micky's Jim for his last words. It comes naturally to some people -to call those women betrayed by great love and innocence the most -opprobrious names. The fact of a woman having loved unwisely and far too -well often offers everybody excuses to throw stones at her. And there -are other men who, in the company of their own sex, always talk of women -in the most filthy manner, and nobody takes offence. Often have I -listened to tirades of abuse levelled against all women, and I have -taken no hand in suppressing it, not being worthy enough to correct the -faults of others. But when Micky's Jim said those words against Norah -Ryan I reached out, forgetting the bread eaten with him and the hand -raised on the 'Derry boat on my behalf years before, and gripping him -under the armpits I lifted him up into the air and threw him head -foremost on the floor. He got to his feet and rushed at me, while the -other occupants of the byre watched us but never interfered.</p> - -<p>"I didn't think it was in ye, Dermod, to strike a friend," he said, and -drove his fist for my face. But I had learned a little of the art of -self-defence here and there; so it was that at the end of five minutes -Jim, still willing in spirit but weak in flesh, was unable to rise to -his feet, and I went out to the road again, having fought one fight in -which victory gave me no pleasure.</p> - -<p>I walked along heedlessly, but in some inexplicable manner my feet -turned towards Glasgow. My brain was afire, my life was broken, and I -almost wished that I had not asked about Norah when I met Jim. My last -dream, my greatest illusion, was shattered now, and only at that moment -did I realise the pleasure which the remembrances of early days in -Norah's company had given me. I believed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> so much in my ideal love for -Norah that I thought the one whom I idealised was proof against -temptation and sin. My mind went back to the night when I saw her give -the two-shilling piece, nearly all her fortune, to the man with the pain -in his back—the same night when she and I both blushed at the -frowardness of Gourock Ellen. Such goodness and such innocence! -Instinctively I knew that her sin—not sin, but mistake—was due to her -innocence. And some day Norah might become like Gourock Ellen. The -thought terrified me, and almost drove me frantic. Only now did I know -what Norah Ryan really meant to me. For her I lived, and for her alone. -I loved her, then it was my duty to help her. Love is unworthy of the -name unless it proves its worth when put to the test. I went to Glasgow -and made enquiries for my sweetheart. For three whole weeks I searched, -but my search was unsuccessful, and at last hunger drove me from the -city.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Jim knew of her abode? After our last encounter it was hard to -go back and ask a favour of him. In the end I humbled myself and went -and spoke to one of the women in the squad. She did not know where Norah -was; and sour against Heaven and Destiny I went out on the long road -again.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Ordering and drinking whisky, and having no intention of -paying for the drink, is known to navvies as "shooting the crow."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Schooner. A large glass used for lager-beer and ale, which -contains fourteen fluid ounces.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> A stick. A half-glass of whisky mixed with beer—a navvyism -for <i>petite verre</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Pulling the hare's foot. A farmyard phrase. The hare in the -cornfield takes refuge in the standing corn when the servants are -reaping. To the farmer himself belongs the privilege of catching the -animal. If he is unable to corner the hare he stands drinks to all the -harvesters, and the drink is usually a sure one.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE DRAINER</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Voiceless slave of the solitude, rude as the draining shovel is rude:</div> -<div>Man by the ages of wrong subdued, marred, misshapen, misunderstood,</div> -<div>Such is the Drainer."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>Songs of a Navvy</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Late in the September of the same year I got a job at digging sheep -drains on a moor in Argyllshire. I worked with a man named Sandy, and I -never knew his second name. I believe he had almost forgotten it -himself. He had a little hut in the centre of the moor, and I lived with -him there. The hut was built of piles shoved into the ground, and the -cracks between were filled with moss to keep out the cold. In the wet -weather the water came through the floor and put out the fire, what time -we required it most.</p> - -<p>One night when taking supper a beetle dropped from the roof into my tea-can.</p> - -<p>"The first leevin' thing I've seen here for mony a day, barrin' -oursel's," Sandy remarked. "The verra worms keep awa' frae the place."</p> - -<p>We started work at seven o'clock in the morning. Each of us dug a sod -six inches deep and nine inches wide, and threw it as far as we could -from the place where it was lifted. All day long we kept doing the same -thing, just as Sandy had been doing it for thirty years. We hardly ever -spoke to one another, there was nothing to speak about. The moor spread -out on all sides, and little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> could be seen save the brown rank grass, -the crawling bogbine, and the dirty sluggish water. We had to drink this -water. The nearest tree was two miles distant, and the nearest -public-house a good two hours' walk away. Sandy got drunk twice a week.</p> - -<p>"Just tae put the taste o' the feelthy water oot o' my mooth," he -explained in apologetic tones when he got sober. I do not know why he -troubled to make excuses for his drunkenness. It mattered very little to -me, although I was now teetotal myself. I was even glad when the man got -drunk, for intoxicated he gave a touch of the ridiculous to the scene -that was so killingly sombre when he was sober. In the end I became -almost as soulless and stupid as the sods I turned up, and in the long -run I debated whether I should take to drink or the road in order to -enliven my life. I had some money in my pocket, and my thoughts turned -to Norah Ryan. Perhaps if I went to Glasgow I would find her. I took it -in my head to leave; I told Sandy and asked him to come.</p> - -<p>"There's nae use in me leavin' here noo," he said. "I've stopped too -lang for that."</p> - -<p>The farmer for whom we wrought got very angry when I asked him for my -wages.</p> - -<p>"There's nae pleasin' o' some folk," he grumbled. "They'll nae keep a -guid job when they get one."</p> - -<p>The last thing I saw as I turned out on the high-road was Sandy leaning -over his draining spade like some God-forsaken spirit of the moorland. -Poor man! he had not a friend in all the world, and he was very old.</p> - -<p>I stopped in Glasgow for four weeks, but my search for Norah was -fruitless. She seemed to have gone out of the world and no trace of her -was to be found.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">A DEAD MAN'S SHOES</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"In the grim dead-end he lies,</div> -<div class="i2">With passionless filmy eyes,</div> -<div>English Ned, with a hole in his head,</div> -<div class="i2">Staring up at the skies.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The engine driver swore, as often he swore before:</div> -<div class="i2">'I whistled him back from the flamin' track,</div> -<div>And I couldn't do no more!'</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The ganger spoke through the 'phone: 'Platelayer seventy-one</div> -<div class="i2">Got killed to-day on the six-foot way</div> -<div>By a goods on the city run.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'English Ned is his name, no one knows whence he came;</div> -<div class="i2">He didn't take mind of the road behind,</div> -<div>And none of us is to blame.'"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>Songs of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The law has it that no man must work as a platelayer on the running -lines until he is over twenty-one years of age. If my readers look up -the books of the —— Railway Company, they'll find that I started work -in the service of the company at the age of twenty-two. My readers must -not believe this. I was only eighteen years of age when I started work -on the railway, but I told a lie in order to obtain the post.</p> - -<p>One day, five weeks following my return from the Argyllshire moors, and -long after all my money had been expended on the fruitless search for -Norah Ryan, I clambered up a railway embankment near Glasgow with the -intention of seeking a job, and found that a man had just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> been killed -by a ballast engine. He had been cut in two; the fingers of his left -hand severed clean away were lying on the slag. The engine wheels were -dripping with blood. The sight made me sick with a dull heavy nausea, -and numberless little blue and black specks floated before my eyes. An -almost unbearable dryness came into my throat; my legs became heavy and -leaden, and it seemed as if thousands of pins were pricking them. All -the men were terror-stricken, and a look of fear was in every eye. They -did not know whose turn would come next.</p> - -<p>A few of them stepped reluctantly forward and carried the thing which -had been a fellow-man a few minutes before and placed it on the green -slope. Others pulled the stray pieces of flesh from amidst the rods, -bars, and wheels of the engine and washed the splotches of blood from -the sleepers and rails. One old fellow lifted the severed fingers from -the slag, counting each one loudly and carefully as if some weighty -decision hung on the correct tally of the dead man's fingers. They were -placed beside the rest of the body, and prompted by a morbid curiosity I -approached it where it lay in all its ghastliness on the green slope -with a dozen men or more circled around it. The face was unrecognisable -as a human face. A thin red sliver of flesh lying on the ground looked -like a tongue. Probably the man's teeth in contracting had cut the -tongue in two. I had looked upon two dead people, Dan and Mary Sorley, -but they might have been asleep, so quiet did they lie in their eternal -repose. This was also death, but death combined with horror. Here and -there scraps of clothing and buttons were scrambled up with the flesh, -but all traces of clothing were almost entirely hidden from sight. The -old man who had gathered up the fingers brought a bag forward and -covered up the dead thing on the slope. The rest of the men drew back,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> -quietly and soberly, glad that the thing was hidden from their eyes.</p> - -<p>"A bad sight for the fellow's wife," said the old man to me. "I've seen -fifteen men die like him, you know."</p> - -<p>"How did it happen?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"We was liftin' them rails into the ballast train, and every rail is -over half a ton in weight," said the man, who, realising that I was not -a railway man, gave full details. "One of the rails came back. The men -were in too big a hurry, that's what I say, and I've always said it, but -it's not their fault. It's the company as wants men to work as if every -man was a horse, and the men daren't take their time. It's the sack if -they do that. Well, as I was a-sayin', the rail caught on the lip of the -waggon, and came back atop of Mick—Mick Deehan is his name—as the -train began just to move. The rail broke his back, snapped it in two -like a dry stick. We heard the spine crack, and he just gave one squeal -and fell right under the engine. Ugh! it was ill to look at it, and, -mind you, I've seen fifteen deaths like it. Fifteen, just think of -that!"</p> - -<p>Then I realised that I had been saved part of the worst terror of the -tragedy. It must have been awful to see a man suddenly transformed into -that which lay under the bag beside me. A vision came to me of the poor -fellow getting suddenly caught in the terrible embrace of the engine, -watching the large wheel slowly revolving downwards towards his face, -while his ears would hear, the last sound ever to be heard by them, the -soft, slippery movement of that monstrous wheel skidding in flesh and -blood. For a moment I was in the dead man's place, I could feel the -flange of the wheel cutting and sliding through me as a plough slides -through the furrow of a field. Again my feelings almost overcame me, my -brain was giddy and my feet seemed insecurely planted on the ground.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>By an effort I diverted my thoughts from the tragedy, and my eyes fell -on a spider's web hung between two bare twigs just behind the dead man. -It glistened in the sunshine, and a large spider, a little distance out -from the rim, had its gaze fixed on some winged insect which had got -entangled in the meshes of the web. When the old man who had seen -fifteen deaths passed behind the corpse, the spider darted back to the -shelter of the twig, and the winged insect struggled fiercely, trying to -free itself from the meshes of death.</p> - -<p>On a near bough a bird was singing, and its song was probably the first -love-song of the spring. In the field on the other side of the line, and -some distance away, a group of children were playing, children -bare-legged, and dressed in garments of many colours. Behind them a row -of lime-washed cottages stood, looking cheerful in the sunshine of the -early spring. Two women stood at one door, gossiping, no doubt. A young -man in passing raised his hat to the women, then stopped and talked with -them for a while. From far down the line, which ran straight for miles, -an extra gang of workers was approaching, their legs moving under their -apparently motionless bodies, and breaking the lines of light which ran -along the polished upper bedes of the rails. The men near me were -talking, but in my ears their voices sounded like the droning of bees -that flit amid the high branches of leafy trees. The coming gang drew -nearer, stepping slowly from sleeper to sleeper, thus saving the soles -of their boots from the contact of the wearing slag. The man in front, a -strong, lusty fellow, was bellowing out in a very unmusical voice an -Irish love song. Suddenly I noticed that all the men near me were gazing -tensely at the approaching squad, the members of which were yet unaware -of the tragedy, for the rake of ballast waggons hid the bloodstained -slag and scene of the accident from their eyes. The singer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> came round -behind the rear waggon, still bellowing out his song.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I'll leave me home again and I'll bid good-bye to-morrow,</div> -<div>I'll pass the little graveyard and the tomb anear the wall,</div> -<div>I have lived so long for love that I cannot live for sorrow</div> -<div>By the grave that holds me cooleen in a glen of Donegal."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Every eye was turned on him, but no man spoke. Apparently taking no heed -of the splotches of blood, now darkly red, and almost the colour of the -slag on which they lay, he approached the bag which covered the body.</p> - -<p>"What the devil is this?" he cried out, and gave the bag a kick, -throwing it clear of the thing which it covered. The bird on the bough -atop of the slope trilled louder; the song of the man died out, and he -turned to the ganger who stood near him, with a questioning look.</p> - -<p>"It's Mick, is it?" he asked, removing his cap.</p> - -<p>"It's Micky," said the ganger.</p> - -<p>The man by the corpse bent down again and covered it up slowly and -quietly, then he sank down on the green slope and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Micky and him's brothers, you know," said a man who stood beside me in -a whisper. The tears came into my eyes, much though I tried to restrain -them. The tragedy had now revealed itself in all its horrible intensity, -and I almost wished to run away from the spot.</p> - -<p>After a while the breakdown van came along; the corpse was lifted in, -the brother tottered weakly into the carriage attached to the van, and -the engine puffed back to Glasgow. A few men turned the slag in the -sleeper beds and hid the dark red clotted blood for ever. The man had a -wife and several children, and to these the company paid blood money, -and the affair was in a little while forgotten by most men, for it was -no man's business. Does it not give us an easy conscience that this -wrong and that wrong is no business of ours?</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>When the train rumbled around the first curve on its return journey I -went towards the ganger, for the work obsession still troubled me. Once -out of work I long for a job, once having a job my mind dwells on the -glories of the free-footed road again. But now I had an object in view, -for if I obtained employment on the railway I could stop in Glasgow and -continue my search for Norah Ryan during the spare hours. The ganger -looked at me dubiously, and asked my age.</p> - -<p>"Twenty-two years," I answered, for I was well aware that a man is never -taken on as a platelayer until he has attained his majority.</p> - -<p>There and then I was taken into the employ of the —— Railway Company, -as Dermod Flynn, aged twenty-two years. Afterwards the ganger read me -the rules which I had to observe while in the employment of the company. -I did not take very much heed to his droning voice, my mind reverting -continuously to the tragedy which I had just witnessed, and I do not -think that the ganger took very much pleasure in the reading. While we -were going through the rules a stranger scrambled up the railway slope -and came towards us.</p> - -<p>"I heard that a man was killed," he said in an eager voice. "Any chance -of gettin' a start in his place?"</p> - -<p>"This man's in his shoes," said the ganger, pointing at me.</p> - -<p>"Lucky dog!" was all that the man said, as he turned away.</p> - -<p>The ganger's name was Roche, "Horse Roche"—for his mates nicknamed him -"Horse" on account of his enormous strength. He could drive a nine-inch -iron spike through a wooden sleeper with one blow of his hammer. No -other man on the railway could do the same thing at that time; but -before I passed my twenty-first birthday I could perform the same feat -quite easily. Roche was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> hard swearer, a heavy drinker, and a fearless -fighter. He will not mind my saying these things about him now. He is -dead over four years.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">BOOKS</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"For me has Homer sung of wars,</div> -<div class="i2">Æschylus wrote and Plato thought,</div> -<div class="i2">Has Dante loved and Darwin wrought,</div> -<div>And Galileo watched the stars."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>The Navvy's Scrap Book</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Up till this period of my life I had no taste for literature. I had -seldom even glanced at the daily papers, having no interest in the world -in which I played so small a part. One day when the gang was waiting for -a delayed ballast train, and when my thoughts were turning to Norah -Ryan, I picked up a piece of paper, a leaf from an exercise book, and -written on it in a girl's or woman's handwriting were these little verses:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"No, indeed! for God above</div> -<div class="i2">Is great to grant, as mighty to make,</div> -<div>And creates the love to reward the love,—</div> -<div class="i2">I claim you still, for my own love's sake!</div> -<div>Delayed it may be for more lives yet,</div> -<div class="i2">Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few—</div> -<div>Much is to learn and much to forget</div> -<div class="i2">Ere the time be come for taking you.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I have lived (I shall say) so much since then,</div> -<div class="i2">Given up myself so many times.</div> -<div>Gained me the gains of various men,</div> -<div class="i2">Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;</div> -<div>Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope,</div> -<div class="i2">Either I missed or itself missed me:</div> -<div>And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope</div> -<div class="i2">What is the issue? let us see!"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>While hardly understanding their import, the words went to my heart. -They expressed thoughts of my own, thoughts lying so deeply that I was -not able to explain or express them. The writer of the verse I did not -know, but I thought that he, whoever he was, had looked deep into my -soul and knew my feelings better than myself. All day long I repeated -the words to myself over and over again, and from them I got much -comfort and strength, that stood me in good stead in the long hours of -searching on the streets of Glasgow for my luckless love. Under the -glaring lamps that lit the larger streets, through the dark guttery -alleys and sordid slums I prowled about nightly, looking at every young -maiden's face and seeing in each the hard stare of indifference and the -cold look of the stranger. Round the next corner perhaps she was -waiting; a figure approaching reminded me of her, and I hurried forward -eagerly only to find that I was mistaken. Oh! how many illusions kept me -company in my search! how many disappointments! and how many hopes. For -I wanted Norah; for her I longed with a great longing, and a dim vague -hope of meeting her buoyed up my soul.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!</div> -<div>What is the issue? let us see!"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Such comforting words, and the world of books might be full of them! A -new and unexplored world lay open before me, and for years I had not -seen it, or seeing, never heeded. I had once more the hope that winged -me along the leading road to Strabane when leaving for a new country. -Alas! the country that raised such anticipations was not what my hopes -fashioned, but this newer world, just as enticing, was worthy of more -trust and greater confidence. I began to read eagerly, ravenously. I -read Victor Hugo in G—— Tunnel. One day a falling rail broke the top -joint of the middle finger of my left hand. Being unable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> for some time -to take part in the usual work of the squad I was placed on the look-out -when my gang worked on the night-shift in the tunnel at G——. When the -way was not clear ahead I had to signal the trains in the darkness, but -as three trains seldom passed in the hour the work was light and easy. -When not engaged I sat on the rail beside the naphtha lamp and read -aloud to myself. I lived with Hugo's characters, I suffered with them -and wept for them in their troubles. One night when reading <i>Les -Miserables</i> I cried over the story of Jean Valjean and little Cosette. -Horse Roche at that moment came through the darkness (in the tunnel it -is night from dawn to dawn) and paused to ask me how I was getting along.</p> - -<p>"Your eyes are running water, Flynn," he said. "You sit too close to the -lamp smoke."</p> - -<p>I remember many funny things which happened in those days. I read the -chapter on <i>Natural Supernaturalism</i>, from <i>Sartor Resartus</i>, while -seated on the footboard of a flying ballast train. Once, when Roche had -left his work to take a drink in a near public-house, I read several -pages from <i>Sesame and Lilies</i>, under shelter of a coal waggon, which -had been shunted into an adjacent siding. I read Montaigne's <i>Essays</i> -during my meal hours, while my mates gambled and swore around me.</p> - -<p>I procured a ticket for the Carnegie Library, but bought some books, -when I had cash to spare, from a second-hand bookseller on the south -side of Glasgow. Every pay-day I spent a few shillings there, and went -home to my lodgings with a bundle of books under my arm. The bookseller -would not let me handle the books until I bought them, because my hands -were so greasy and oily with the muck of my day's labour. I seldom read -in my lodgings. I spent most of my evenings in the streets engaged on my -unsuccessful search. I read in the spare moments snatched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> from my daily -work. Soon my books were covered with iron-rust, sleeper-tar and waggon -grease, where my dirty hands had touched them, and when I had a book in -my possession for a month I could hardly decipher a word on the pages. -There is some difficulty in reading thus.</p> - -<p>I started to write verses of a kind, and one poem written by me was -called <i>The Lady of the Line</i>. I personified the spirit that watched -over the lives of railway men from behind the network of point-rods and -hooded signals. The red danger lamp was her sign of power, and I wrote -of her as queen of all the running lines in the world.</p> - -<p>I read the poem to my mates. Most of them liked it very much and a few -learned it by heart. When Horse Roche heard of it he said: "You'll end -your days in the madhouse, or"—with cynical repetition—"in the House -of Parliament."</p> - -<p>On Sunday afternoons, when not at work, I went to hear the socialist -speakers who preached the true Christian Gospel to the people at the -street corners. The workers seldom stopped to listen; they thought that -the socialists spoke a lot of nonsense. The general impression was that -socialists, like clergymen, were paid speakers; that they endeavoured to -save men's bodies from disease and poverty as curates save souls from -sin for a certain number of shillings a day. From the first I looked -upon socialist speakers as men who had an earnest desire for justice, -and men who toiled bravely in the struggle for the regeneration of -humanity. I always revolted against injustice, and hated all manner of -oppression. My heart went out to the men, women, and children who toil -in the dungeons and ditches of labour, grinding out their souls and -bodies for meagre pittances. All around me were social injustices, -affecting the very old and the very young as they affected the supple -and strong. Social suffering begins at any age, and death is often its -only remedy. That remedy is only for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> individual; the general remedy -is to be found in Socialism. Industry, that new Inquisition, has -thousands on the rack of profit; Progress, to millions, means slavery -and starvation; Progress and Profit mean sweated labour to railway men, -and it meant death to many of them, as to Mick Deehan, whose place I had -filled. I had suffered a lot myself: a brother of mine had died when he -might have been saved by the rent which was paid to the landlord, and I -had seen suffering all around me wherever I went; suffering due to -injustice and tyranny of the wealthy class. When I heard the words -spoken by the socialists at the street corner a fire of enthusiasm -seized me, and I knew that the world was moving and that the men and -women of the country were waking from the torpor of poverty, full of -faith for a new cause. I joined the socialist party.</p> - -<p>For a while I kept in the background; the discussions which took place -in their hall in G—— Street made me conscious of my own lack of -knowledge on almost any subject. The members of the party discussed -Spencer, Darwin, Huxley, Karl Marx, Ricardo, and Smith, men of whom I -had never even heard, and inwardly I chafed at my own absolute ignorance -and want of the education necessary for promoting the cause which I -advocated. Hours upon hours did I spend wading through Marx's <i>Capital</i>, -and Henry George's <i>Progress and Poverty</i>. The former, the more logical, -appealed to me least.</p> - -<p>I had only been two months in the socialist party when I organised a -strike among the railway men, the thirty members of the Flying Squad on -which I worked.</p> - -<p>We were loading ash waggons at C—— engine shed, and shovelling ashes -is one of the worst jobs on the railway. Some men whom I have met -consider work behind prison walls a pleasure when compared with it. As -these men spoke from experience I did not doubt their words. The ash-pit -at C—— was a miniature volcano. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>red-hot cinders and burning ashes -were piled together in a deep pit, the mouth of which barely reached the -level of the railway track. The Flying Squad under Horse Roche cleared -out the pit once every month. The ashes were shovelled into waggons -placed on the rails alongside for that purpose. The men stripped to the -trousers and shirt in the early morning, and braces were loosened to -give the shoulders the ease in movement required for the long day's -swinging of the shovel. Three men were placed at each waggon and ten -waggons were filled by the squad at each spell of work. Every three -wrought as hard as they were able, so that their particular waggon might -be filled before the others. The men who lagged behind went down in the -black book of the ganger.</p> - -<p>On the day of the strike the pit was a boiling hell. Chunks of coal -half-burned and half-ablaze, lumps of molten slag, red-hot bricks and -fiery ashes were muddled together in suffocating profusion. From the -bottom of the pit a fierce impetus was required to land the contents of -the shovel in the waggon overhead. Sometimes a brick would strike on the -rim of the waggon and rebound back on the head of the man who threw it -upwards. "Cripes! we'll have to fill it ourselves now," his two mates -would say as they bundled their bleeding fellow out of the reeking heat. -A shower of fine ashes were continuously falling downwards and resting -upon our necks and shoulders, and the ash-particles burned the flesh -like thin red-hot wires. It was even worse when they went further down -our backs, for then every move of the underclothing and every swing of -the shoulders caused us intense agony. Under the run of the shirt the -ashes scarred the flesh like sand-paper. All around a thick smoke rested -and hid us from the world without, and within we suffered in a pit of -blasting fire. I've seen men dropping at the job like rats in a furnace. -These were usually carried out, and a bucket of water was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> emptied on -their face. When they recovered they entered into the pit again.</p> - -<p>Horse Roche stood on the coupling chains of the two middle waggons, -timing the work with his watch and hastening it on with his curses. He -was not a bad fellow at heart, but he could do nothing without flying -into a fuming passion, which often was no deeper than his lips. Below -him the smoke was so thick that he could hardly see his own labourers -from the stand on the coupling chain. All he could see was the shovels -of red ashes and shovels of black ashes rising up and over the haze that -enveloped the pit beneath. But we could hear Roche where we wrought. -Louder than the grinding of the ballast engine was the voice of the -Horse cursing and swearing. His swearing was a gift, remarkable and -irrepressible; it was natural to the man; it was the man.</p> - -<p>"God's curse on you, Dan Devine, I don't see your shovel at work at -all!" he roared. "Where the hell are you, Muck MaCrossan? Your waggon -isn't nearly water-level yet, and that young whelp, Flynn, has his -nearly full! If your chest was as broad as your belly, MacQueen, you'd -be a danged sight better man on the ash-pile! It's not but that you are -well enough used to the ashes, for I never yet saw a Heelin man who -didn't spend the best part of his life before a fire or before grub! -Come now, you men on the offside; you are slacking it like hell! If you -haven't your waggon up over the lip, I'll sack every God-damned man of -you on the next pay day! Has a brick fallen on Feeley's head? Well, -shove the idiot out of the pit and get on with your work! His head is -too big, anyhow, it's always in the road!"</p> - -<p>This was the manner in which Horse Roche carried on, and most of the men -were afraid of him. I felt frightened of the man, for I anticipated the -gruelling which he would give me if I fell foul of him. But if we had -come to blows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> he would not, I am certain, have much to boast about at -the conclusion of the affair. However, I never quarrelled with Roche.</p> - -<p>On the day of the strike, about three o'clock in the afternoon, when -fully forespent at our work, the ballast engine brought in a rake of -sixteen-ton waggons. Usually the waggons were small, just large enough -to hold eight tons of ashes. The ones brought in now were very high, and -it required the utmost strength of any one of us to throw a shovelful of -ashes over the rim of the waggon. Not alone were the waggons higher, but -the pile in the pit had decreased, and we had to work from a lower -level. And those waggons could hold so much! They were like the grave, -never satisfied, but ever wanting more, more. I suggested that we should -stop work. Discontent was boiling hot, and the men scrambled out of the -pit, telling Roche to go to hell, and get men to fill his waggons. -Outside of the pit the men's anger cooled. They looked at one another -for a while, feeling that they had done something that was sinful and -wrong. To talk of stopping work in such a manner was blasphemy to most -of them. Ronald MacQueen had a wife and a gathering of young children, -and work was slack. Dan Devine was old, and had been in the service of -the company for twenty years. If he left now he might not get another -job. He rubbed the fine ashes out of his eyes, and looked at MacQueen. -Both men had similar thoughts, and before the sweat was dry on their -faces they turned back to the pit together. One by one the men followed -them, until I was left alone on the outside. Horse Roche had never -shifted his position on the coupling chains. "It'll not pain my feet -much, if I stand till you come back!" he cried when we went out. He -watched the men return with a look of cynical amusement.</p> - -<p>"Come back, Flynn," he cried, when he saw me standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> alone. "You're a -fool, and the rest of the men are cowards; their spines are like the -spines of earth worms."</p> - -<p>I picked up my shovel angrily, and returned to my waggon. I was -disgusted and disappointed and ashamed. I had lost in the fight, and I -felt the futility of rising in opposition against the powers that -crushed us down. That night I sent a letter to the railway company -stating our grievance. No one except myself would sign it, but all the -men said that my letter was a real good one. It must have been too good. -A few days later a clerk was sent from the head of the house to inform -me that I would get sacked if I wrote another letter of the same kind.</p> - -<p>Then I realised that in the grip of the great industrial machine I was -powerless; I was a mere spoke in the wheel of the car of progress, and -would be taken out if I did not perform my functions there. The human -spoke is useful as long as it behaves like a wooden one in the socket -into which it is wedged. So long will the Industrial Carriage keep -moving forward under the guidance of heavy-stomached Indolence and -inflated Pride. There is no scarcity of spokes, human and wooden. What -does it matter if Devine and MacQueen were thrown away? A million seeds -are dropping in the forest, and all women are not divinely chaste. The -young children are growing. Blessings be upon you, workmen, you have -made spokes that will shove you from the sockets into which your feet -are wedged, but God grant that the next spokes are not as wooden as -yourselves!</p> - -<p>Again the road was calling to me. My search in Glasgow had been quite -unsuccessful, and the dull slavery of the six-foot way began to pall on -me. The clerk who was sent by the company to teach me manners was a most -annoying little fellow, and full of the importance of his mission. I -told him quietly to go to the devil, an advice which he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> not relish, -but which he forbore to censure. That evening I left the employ of the -—— Railway Company.</p> - -<p>Just two hours before I lifted my lying time, the Horse was testing -packed sleepers with his pick some distance away from the gang, when a -rabbit ran across the railway. Horse dropped his pick, aimed a lump of -slag at the animal and broke its leg. It limped off; we saw the Horse -follow, and about a hundred paces from the point where he had first -observed it Roche caught the rabbit, and proceeded to kill it outright -by battering its head against the flange of the rail. At that moment a -train passed us, travelling on the down line. Roche was on the up line, -but as the train passed him we saw a glint of something bright flashing -between the engine and the man, and at the same moment Roche fell to his -face on the four-foot way. We hurried towards him, and found our ganger -vainly striving to rise with both arms caught in his entrails. The pick -which he had left lying on the line got caught in the engine wheels and -was carried forward, and violently hurled out when the engine came level -with the ganger. It ripped his belly open, and he died about three -minutes after we came to his assistance. The rabbit, although badly -wounded, escaped to its hole. That night I was on the road again.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">A FISTIC ARGUMENT</span></h2> - -<p class="center">"You're hungry and want me to give you food? I'll see you in hell -first!"—From <i>Words to the Hungry</i>.</p> - -<p>I left my job on Tuesday, and tramped about for the rest of the week -foot-free and reckless. The nights were fine, and sleeping out of doors -was a pleasure. On Saturday night I found myself in Burn's model -lodging-house, Greenock. I paid for the night's bedding, and got the use -of a frying-pan to cook a chop which I had bought earlier in the day. -Although it was now midsummer a large number of men were seated around -the hot-plate on the ground floor, where some weighty matter was under -discussion. A man with two black eyes was carrying on a whole-hearted -argument with a ragged tramp in one corner of the room. I proceeded to -fry my trifle of meat, and was busily engaged on my job when I became -aware of a disturbance near the door. A drunken man had come in, and his -oaths were many, but it was impossible to tell what he was swearing at. -All at once I turned round, for I heard a phrase that I knew full well.</p> - -<p>"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," said -the drunken man. The speaker was Moleskin Joe, and face to face he -recognised me immediately.</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn, by God!" he cried. "Dermod—Flynn—by—God! How did you -get on with your milkin', sonny? You're the only man I ever cheated out -of five<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> bob, and there's another man cheatin' you out of your bit of -steak this very minute."</p> - -<p>I turned round rapidly to my frying-pan, and saw a man bending over it. -This fellow, who was of middle age, and unkempt appearance, had broken -an egg over my chop, and was busily engaged in cooking both. I had never -seen the man before.</p> - -<p>"You're at the wrong frying-pan," I roared, knowing his trick.</p> - -<p>"You're a damned liar," he answered.</p> - -<p>"No, but you are the damned liar," I shouted in reply.</p> - -<p>"Good!" laughed Moleskin, sitting down on a bench, and biting a plug of -tobacco. "Good, Flynn! Put them up to Carroty Dan; he's worth keepin' -your eye on."</p> - -<p>"If he keeps his eye on me, he'll soon get it blackened," replied the -man who was nick-named Carroty, on account of his red hair. "This is my -frying-pan."</p> - -<p>"It is not," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Had you an egg on this chop when you turned round?" asked Carroty.</p> - -<p>"I had not."</p> - -<p>"Well, there's an egg on this pan, cully, so it can't be yours."</p> - -<p>I knew that it would be useless to argue with the man. I drew out with -all my strength, and landed one on the jowl of Carroty Dan, and he went -to the ground like a stuck pig.</p> - -<p>"Good, Flynn!" shouted Moleskin, spitting on the planking beneath his -feet. "You'll be a fighter some day."</p> - -<p>I turned to the chop and took no notice of my fallen enemy until I was -also lying stretched amidst the sawdust on the floor, with a sound like -the falling of many waters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> ringing in my head. Carroty had hit me under -my ear while my attention was devoted to the chop. I scrambled to my -feet but went to the ground again, having received a well-directed blow -on my jaw. My mouth was bleeding now, but my mind was clear. My man -stood waiting until I rose, but I lay prone upon the ground considering -how I might get at him easily. A dozen men had gathered round and were -waiting the result of the quarrel, but Moleskin had dropped asleep on -the bench. I rose to my knees and reaching forward I caught Carroty by -the legs. With a strength of which, until then, I never thought myself -capable, I lifted my man clean off his feet, and threw him head foremost -over my shoulders to the ground behind. Knowing how to fall, he dropped -limply to the ground, receiving little hurt, and almost as soon as I -regained my balance, he was in front of me squaring out with fists in -approved fashion. I took up a posture of instinctive defence and waited. -My enemy struck out; I stooped to avoid the blow. He hit me, but not -before I landed a welt on the soft of his belly. My punch was good, and -he went down, making strange noises in his throat, and rubbing his guts -with both hands. His last hit had closed my left eye, but all fight was -out of Carroty; he would not face up again. The men returned to their -discussion, Moleskin slid from his bench and lay on the floor, and I -went on with my cooking. When Carroty recovered I gave him back his egg, -and he ate it as if nothing had happened to disturb him. He asked for a -bit of the chop, and I was so pleased with the thrashing I had given him -that I divided half the meat with the man.</p> - -<p>Later in the evening somebody tramped on Moleskin Joe and awoke him.</p> - -<p>"Who the hell thinks I'm a doormat?" he growled on getting to his feet, -and glowered round the room. No one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> answered. He went out with Carroty, -and the two of them got as drunk as they could hold. I was in bed when -they returned, and Carroty, full of a drunken man's courage, challenged -me again to "put them up to him." I pretended that I was asleep, and -took no notice of his antics, until he dragged me out of the bed. Stark -naked and mad with rage, I thrashed him until he shrieked for mercy. I -pressed him under me, and when he could neither move hand nor foot, I -told him where I was going to hit him, and kept him sometimes over two -minutes waiting for the blow. He was more than pleased when I gave him -his freedom, and he never evinced any further desire to fight me.</p> - -<p>"It's easy for anyone to thrash poor Carroty," said Joe, when I had -finished the battle.</p> - -<p>On Sunday we got drunk together in a speak-easy<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> near the model, and -it was with difficulty that we restrained Carroty from challenging -everybody whom he met to fistic encounter. By nightfall Moleskin counted -his money, and found that he had fourpence remaining.</p> - -<p>"I'm off to Kinlochleven in the morning," he said. "There's good graft -and good pay for a man in Kinlochleven now. I'm sick of prokin' in the -gutters here. Damn it all! who's goin' with me?"</p> - -<p>"I'm with you," gibbered Carroty, running his fingers through the -"blazing torch"—the term used by Joe when speaking of the red hair of -his mate.</p> - -<p>"I'll go too," I said impulsively. "I've only twopence left for the -journey, though."</p> - -<p>"Never mind that," said Moleskin absently. "There's a good time comin'."</p> - -<p>Kinlochleven is situated in the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands, -and I had often heard of the great job going on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> there, and in which -thousands of navvies were employed. It was said that the pay was good -and the work easy. That night I slept little, and when I slept my dreams -were of the journey before me at dawn, and the new adventures which -might be met with on the way.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> A shebeen. "You must speak easy in a shebeen when the -police are around."</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">THE OPEN ROAD</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The road runs north, the road runs south, and there foot-easy, slow,</div> -<div>The tramp, God speed him! wanders forth, and nature's gentry go.</div> -<div>Gentlemen knights of the gravelled way, who neither toil nor spin,</div> -<div>Men who reck not whether or nay the landlord's rents come in,</div> -<div>Men who are close to the natal sod, who know not sin nor shame,</div> -<div>And Way of the World or Way of the Road, the end is much the same."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>A Song of the Road</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the morning I was afoot before any of my mates, full of impatience, -and looking forward eagerly to the start.</p> - -<p>"Wake up, Moleskin!" I cried, as I bent over my mate, where he lay -snoring loudly in the bed; "it is time to be away."</p> - -<p>"It's not time yet, for I'm still sleepy," said Moleskin drowsily. "Slow -and easy goes far in a day," he added, and fell asleep again. I turned -my attention to Carroty.</p> - -<p>"Get up, Carroty!" I shouted. "It's time that we were out on our -journey."</p> - -<p>"What journey?" grumbled Carroty, propping himself up on his elbow in -the bed.</p> - -<p>"To Kinlochleven," I reminded him.</p> - -<p>"I never heard of it."</p> - -<p>"You said that you would go this morning," I informed him. "You said so -last night when you were drunk."</p> - -<p>"Well, if I said so, it must be so," said the red-haired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> one, and -slipped out of the blankets. Moleskin rose also, and as a proof of the -bond between us, we cooked our food in common on the hot-plate, and at -ten minutes to ten by the town clock we set out on the long road leading -to Kinlochleven. Our worldly wealth amounted to elevenpence, and the -distance to which we had set our faces was every inch, as the road -turned, of one hundred miles, or a six days' tramp according to the -computation of my two mates. The pace of the road is not a sharp one. -"Slow and easy goes far in a day," is a saying amongst us, and it sums -up the whole philosophy of the long journey. Besides our few pence, each -man possessed a pipe, a knife, and a box for holding matches. The -latter, being made of tin, was very useful for keeping the matches dry -when the rain soaked the clothing. In addition, each man carried, tied -to his belt, a tin can which would always come in handy for making tea, -cooking eggs, or drinking water from a wayside well.</p> - -<p>When we got clear of the town Moleskin opened his shirt front and -allowed the wind to play coolly against his hairy chest.</p> - -<p>"Man alive!" he exclaimed, "this wind runs over a fellow's chest like -the hands of a soncy wench!" Then he spoke of our journey. Carroty was -silent; he was a morbid fellow who had little to say, except when drunk, -and as for myself I was busy with my thoughts, and eager to tramp on at -a quicker pace.</p> - -<p>"We'll separate here, and each must go alone and pick up what he can lay -his hands on," said Moleskin. "As I'm an old dog on the road, far more -knowing than a torch-headed boozer or young mongrel, I'll go ahead and -lead the way. Whenever I manage to bum a bit of tucker from a house, -I'll put a white cross on the gatepost; and both of you can try your -luck after me at the same place. If you hear a hen making a noise in a -bunch of brambles, just look about there and see if you can pick up an -egg or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> two. It would be sort of natural for you, Carroty, to talk about -your wife and young brats, when speaking to the woman of a house. You -look miserable enough to have been married more than once. You're good -lookin', Flynn; just put on your blarney to the young wenches and maybe -they'll be good for the price of a drink for three. We'll sit for a bite -at the Ferry Inn, and that is a good six miles of country from our -feet."</p> - -<p>Without another word Joe slouched off, and Carroty and I sat down and -waited until he turned the corner of the road, a mile further along. The -moment he was out of sight, Carroty rose and trudged after him, his head -bent well over his breast and his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. -This slowness of movement disgusted me. I was afire to reach -Kinlochleven, but my mates were in no great hurry. They placed their -faith in getting there to-morrow, if to-morrow came. Each man was calmly -content, when working out the problem of the day's existence, to allow -the next day to do for itself.</p> - -<p>Carroty had barely turned the corner when I got up and followed. Over my -head the sun burned and scalded with its scorching blaze. The grey road -and its fine gravel, crunching under the heels of my boots, affected the -ears, and put the teeth on edge. Far in front, whenever I raised my -head, I could see the road winding in and out, now losing itself from my -view, and again, further on, reappearing, desolate, grey, and lonely as -ever. Although memories of the road are in a sense always pleasing to -me, the road itself invariably depressed me; the monotony of the same -everlasting stretch of dull gravelled earth gnawed at my soul. Most of -us, men of the road, long for comfort, for love, for the smile of a -woman, and the kiss of a child, but these things are denied to us. The -women shun us as lepers are shunned, the brainless girl who works with a -hoe in a turnip field will have nothing to do with a tramp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> navvy. The -children hide behind their mothers' petticoats when they see us coming, -frightened to death of the awful navvy man who carries away naughty -children, and never lets them back to their mothers again.</p> - -<p>He is a lonely man who wanders on the roads of a strange land, shunned -and despised by all men, and foul in the eyes of all women. Rising cold -in the morning from the shadow of the hedge where the bed of a night was -found, he turns out on his journey and begs for a crumb. High noon sees -nor wife nor mother prepare his mid-day meal, and there is no welcome -for him at an open door when the evening comes. Christ had a mother who -followed him all along the road to Calvary, but the poor tramp is seldom -followed even by a mother's prayers along the road where he carries the -cross of brotherly hate to the Valley of the Shadow of Death.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I saw a white cross on a gate in front of a little cottage. A -girl stood by the door, and I asked for a slice of bread. From the -inside of the house a woman cried out: "Don't give that fellow anything -to eat. We're sick of the likes of him."</p> - -<p>The maiden remonstrated. "Poor thing! he must eat just like ourselves," -she said.</p> - -<p>Once I heard one of the servant girls on Braxey Farm use the same words -when feeding a pig. I did not wait for my slice of bread. I walked on; -the girl called after me, but I never turned round to answer. And the -little dignity that yet remained made me feel very miserable, for I felt -that I was a man classed among swine, and that is a very bitter truth to -learn at eighteen.</p> - -<p>Houses were rare in the country, but alas! rarer were the crosses of -white. I had just been about two hours upon the journey, when as I was -rounding a bend of the road I came upon Carroty sitting on a bank with -his arms around a woman who sat beside him. I had been walking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> on the -grass to ease my feet, and he failed to hear my approach. When he saw -me, he looked half ashamed, and his companion gazed at me with a look -half cringing and half defiant. She put me in mind of Gourock Ellen. Her -face might have been handsome at one time, but it was blotched and -repugnant now. Vice had forestalled old age and left its traces on the -woman's features. Her eyes were hard as steel and looked as if they had -never been dimmed by tears. I wondered what Carroty could see in such a -person, and it was poor enough comfort to know that there was at least -one woman who looked with favour upon a tramp navvy.</p> - -<p>"Tell Moleskin that I'm not comin' any further," Carroty shouted after -me as I passed him by.</p> - -<p>"All right," I answered over my shoulder. Afterwards I passed two white -crosses, and at each I was refused even a crust of bread. "Moleskin has -got some, anyhow, and that is a comfort," I said to myself. Now I began -to feel hungry, and kept an eye in advance for the Ferry Inn. Passing by -a field which I could not see on account of the intervening hedgerow, I -heard a voice crying "Flynn! Flynn!" in a deep whisper. I stopped and -could hear some cows crop-cropping the grass in the field beyond. -"Flynn!" cried the voice again. I looked through the hedgerow and there -I saw Moleskin, the rascal, sitting on his hunkers under a cow and -milking the animal into his little tin can. When he had his own can full -I put mine through the branches and got it filled to the brim. Then my -mate dragged himself through the branches and asked me where I had left -Carroty. I told him about the woman.</p> - -<p>"The damned whelp! I might have known," said Joe, but I did not know -whether he referred to the woman or the man. We carried our milk cans -for a little distance, then turning off the road we sat down in the -corner of a field under a rugged tree and began our meagre meal. Joe -had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> only one slice of bread. This he divided into equal shares, and -when engaged in that work I asked him the meaning of the two white -crosses by the roadside, the two crosses, which as far as I could see, -had no beneficial results.</p> - -<p>"They were all right," said Joe. "I got food at the three places."</p> - -<p>"What happened to the other two slices?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I gave it to a woman who was hungrier than myself," said Joe simply.</p> - -<p>We sat in a nice cosy place. Beside us rumbled a little stream; it -glanced like anything as it ran over the stones and fine sands in its -bed. From where we sat we could see it break in small ripples against -the wild iris and green rushes on the bank. From above, the gold of the -sunlight filtered through the waving leaves and played at hide and seek -all over our muck-red moleskin trousers. Far down an osier bed covered -the stream and hid it from our sight. From there a few birds flew -swiftly and perched on the tree above our heads and began to examine us -closely. Finding that we meant to do them no harm, and observing that -Moleskin threw away little scraps which might be eatable, one bold -little beggar came down, and with legs wide apart stood a short distance -away and surveyed us narrowly. Soon it began to pick up the crumbs, and -by-and-bye we had a score of strangers at our meal.</p> - -<p>Later we lay on our backs and smoked. 'Twas good to watch the blue of -the sky outside the line of leaves that shaded us from the sun. The -feeling of rest and ease was sublime. The birds consumed every crumb -which had been thrown to them; then they flew away and left us. When our -pipes were finished we washed our feet in the passing stream, and this -gave us great relief. Moleskin pared a corn; I turned my socks inside -out and hit down a nail which had come through the sole of my bluchers, -using a stone for a hammer.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>"Now we'll get along, Moleskin," I said, for I was in a hurry.</p> - -<p>"Along be damned!" cried my mate. "I'm goin' to have my dog-sleep."<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>"You have eaten," I said, "and you do not need your dog-sleep to-day."</p> - -<p>Joe refused to answer, and turning over on his side he closed his eyes. -At the end of ten minutes (his dog-sleep usually lasted for that length -of time), he rose to his feet, and walked towards the Clyde, the -foreshore of which spread out from the lower corner of the field. A -little distance out a yacht heaved on the waves, and a small boat lay on -the shingle, within six feet of the water. The tide was full. Joe caught -hold of the boat and proceeded to pull it towards the water, meanwhile -roaring at me to give him a hand. This was a new adventure. I pulled -with all my might, and in barely a minute's space of time the boat was -afloat and we were inside of it. Joe rowed for all he was worth, and -soon we were past the yacht and out in the deep sea. A man on the yacht -called to us, but Joe put down one oar and made a gesture with his hand. -The man became irate and vowed that he would send the police after us. -My mate took no further heed of the man.</p> - -<p>"Can you row?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"I've never had an oar in my hand in my life," I said.</p> - -<p>"How much money have you?" he asked as he bent to his oars again. "I -gave all mine to that woman who was hungry."</p> - -<p>"I have only a penny left," I said.</p> - -<p>"We have to cross the Clyde somehow," said Joe, "and a penny would not -pay two men's fares on a ferry-boat. It is too far to walk to Glasgow, -so this is the only thing to do. I saw the blokes leavin' this boat when -we were at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> our grubbin'-up, so there was nothin' to be done but to take -a dog-sleep until they were out of the way."</p> - -<p>My respect for Joe's cleverness rose immediately. He was a mate of whom -anyone might have been proud.</p> - -<p>When once on the other side, we shoved the boat adrift; and went on the -road again, outside the town of Dumbarton. Joe took the lead along the -Lough Lomond road, and promised to wait for me when dusk was near at -hand. The afternoon was very successful; I soon had my pockets crammed -with bread, and I got three pipefuls of tobacco from three several men -when I asked for a chew from their plugs. An old lady gave me twopence -and later I learned that she had given Moleskin a penny.</p> - -<p>Far outside of Dumbarton in a wild country, I overtook my mate again. It -was now nearly nightfall, and the sun was hardly a hand's breadth above -the horizon. Moleskin was singing to himself as I came up on him. I -overheard one verse and this was the kind of it. It was a song which I -had heard often before sung by navvies in the models.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh! fare you well to the bricks and mortar!</div> -<div class="i2">And fare you well to the hod and lime!</div> -<div>For now I'm courtin' the ganger's daughter,</div> -<div class="i2">And soon I'll lift my lyin' time."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He finished off at that, as I came near, and I noticed a heavy bulge -under his left oxter between the coat and waistcoat. It was something -new; I asked him what it was, but he wouldn't tell me. The road ran -through a rocky moor, but here and there clumps of hazel bounded our -way. We could see at times soft-eyed curious Highland steers gazing out -at us from amongst the bushes, as if they were surprised to see human -beings in that deserted neighbourhood. When we stood and looked at them -they snorted in contempt and crashed away from our sight through the -copsewood.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>"I think that we'll doss here for the night," said Moleskin when we had -walked about a mile further. He crawled over a wayside dyke and threw -down the bundle which he had up to that time concealed under his coat. -It was a dead hen.</p> - -<p>"The corpse of a hen," said Joe with a laugh. "Now we've got to drum -up," he went on, "and get some supper before the dew falls. It is a hard -job to light a fire when the night is on."</p> - -<p>From experience I knew this to be the case; so together we broke rotten -hazel twigs, collected some dry brambles from the undergrowth and built -them in a heap. Joe placed some crisp moss under the pile; I applied a -match and in a moment we had a brightly blazing fire. I emptied my -pockets, proud to display the results of the afternoon's work, which, -when totalled, consisted of four slices of bread, twopence, and about -one half-ounce of tobacco. Joe produced some more bread, his penny, and -three little packets which contained tea, sugar, and salt. These, he -told me, he had procured from a young girl in a ploughman's cottage.</p> - -<p>"But the hen, Moleskin—where did you get that?" I asked, when I had -gathered in some extra wood for the fire.</p> - -<p>"On the king's highway, Flynn," he added with a touch of pardonable -pride. "Coaxed it near me with crumbs until I nabbed it. It made an -awful fuss when I was wringing its neck, but no one turned up, more by -good luck than anything else. I never caught any hen that made such a -noise in all my life before."</p> - -<p>"You are used to it then!" I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Of course I am," was the answer. "When you are on the road as long as -I've been on it, you'll be as big a belly-thief<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> as myself."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p><p>It was fine to look around as the sun went down. Far west the sky was a -dark red, the colour of old wine. A pale moon had stolen up the eastern -sky, and it hung by its horn from the blue above us. Looking up at it, -my thoughts turned to home, and I wondered what my own people would say -if they saw me out here on the ghostly moor along with old Moleskin.</p> - -<p>I searched around for water, and found a little well with the moon at -the bottom. As I bent closer the moon disappeared, and I could see the -white sand beneath. I thought that the well was very holy, it looked so -peaceful and calm out there alone in the wild place. I said to myself, -"Has anybody ever seen it before? What purpose does it serve here?" I -filled the billies, and when turning away I noticed that a pair of eyes -were gazing at me from the depths of the near thicket where a heavy -darkness had settled. I felt a little bit frightened, and hurried -towards the fire, and once there I looked back. A large roan steer came -into the clearing and drank at the well. Another followed, and another. -Their spreading horns glistened in the moonshine, and Joe and I watched -them from where we sat.</p> - -<p>"Will I take some more water here?" I asked my mate, as he cleaned out -the hen, using the contents of the second billy in the operation.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute till all the bullocks have drunk enough," he replied. -"It's a pity to drive them away."</p> - -<p>The fowl was cooked whole on the ashes, and we ate it with great relish. -When the meal was finished, Moleskin flung away the bones.</p> - -<p>"The skeleton of the feast," he remarked sadly.</p> - -<p>Next day was dry, and we got plenty of food, food enough and to spare, -and we made much progress on the journey north. Joe had an argument with -a ploughman. This was the way of it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>Coming round a bend of the road we met a man with the wet clay of the -newly turned earth heavy on his shoes. He was knock-kneed in the manner -of ploughmen who place their feet against the slant of the furrows which -they follow day by day. He was a decent man, and he told Moleskin as -much when my mate asked him for a chew of tobacco.</p> - -<p>"I dinna gang aboot lookin' for work and prayin' to God that I dinna get -it, like you men," said the plougher. "I'm a decent man, and I work hard -and hae no reason to gang about beggin'."</p> - -<p>I was turning my wits upside down for a sarcastic answer, when Joe broke -in.</p> - -<p>"You're too damned decent!" he answered. "If you weren't, you'd give a -man a plug of tobacco when he asks for it in a friendly way, you -God-forsaken, thran-faced bell-wether, you!"</p> - -<p>"If you did your work well and take a job when you get one, you'd have -tobacco of your own," said the ploughman. "Forbye you would have a hoose -and a wife and a dinner ready for you when you went hame in the evenin'. -As it is, you're daunderin' aboot like a lost flea, too lazy to leeve -and too afeard to dee."</p> - -<p>"By Christ! I wouldn't be in your shoes, anyway," Joe broke in quietly -and soberly, a sign that he was aware of having encountered an enemy -worthy of his steel. "A man might as well expect an old sow to go up a -tree backwards and whistle like a thrush, as expect decency from a -nipple-noddled ninny-hammer like you. If you were a man like me, you -would not be tied to a woman's apron strings all your life; you would be -fit to take your turn and pay for it. Look at me! I'm not at the beck -and call of any woman that takes a calf fancy for me."</p> - -<p>"Who would take a fancy to you?"</p> - -<p>"You marry a wench and set up a beggarly house," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> Joe, without -taking any heed of the interruption. "You work fourteen or fifteen hours -a day for every day of the year. If you find the company of another -woman pleasant you have your old crow to jaw at you from the chimney -corner. You'll bring up a breed of children that will leave you when you -need them most. Your wife will get old, her teeth will fall out, and her -hair will get thin, until she becomes as bald as the sole of your foot. -She'll get uglier until you loathe the sight of her, and find one day -that you cannot kiss her for the love of God. But all the time you'll -have to stay with her, growl at her, and nothin' before both of you but -the grave or the workhouse. If you are as clever a cadger as me why do -you suffer all this?"</p> - -<p>"Because I'm a decent man," said the plougher.</p> - -<p>Joe straightened up as if seriously insulted. "Well, I'm damned!" he -muttered and continued on his journey. "It's the first time ever I got -the worst of an argument, Flynn," he said after we had gone out of the -sight of the ploughman, and he kept repeating this phrase for the rest -of the day. For myself, I thought that Joe got the best of the argument, -and I pointed out the merits of his sarcastic remarks and proved to him -that if his opponent had not been a brainless man, he would be aware of -defeat after the first exchange of sallies.</p> - -<p>"But that about the decent man was one up for him," Joe interrupted.</p> - -<p>"It was the only remark which the man was able to make," I said. "The -pig has its grunt, the bull its bellow, the cock its crow, and the -plougher his boasted decency. To each his crow, grunt, boast, or bellow, -and to all their ignorance. It is impossible to argue against ignorance, -Moleskin. It is proof against sarcasm and satire and is blind to its own -failings and the merits of clever men like you."</p> - -<p>Joe brightened perceptibly, and he walked along with elated stride.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>"You're very clever, Flynn," he said. "And you think I won?"</p> - -<p>"You certainly did. The last shot thrown at you struck the man who threw -it full in the face. He admitted that he suffered because of his -decency."</p> - -<p>Joe was now quite pleased with himself, and the rest of the day passed -without any further adventure.</p> - -<p>On the day following it rained and rained. We tasted the dye of our caps -as the water washed it down our faces into our mouths. By noon we came -to the crest of a hill and looked into a wild sweep of valley below. The -valley—it was Glencoe—from its centre had a reach of miles on either -side, and standing on its rim we were mere midges perched on the -copestones of an amphitheatre set apart for the play of giants. Far -away, amongst grey boulders that burrowed into steep inclines, we could -see a pigmy cottage sending a wreath of blue spectral smoke into the -air. No other sign of human life could be seen. The cottage was subdued -by its surroundings, the movement of the ascending smoke was a sacrilege -against the spell of the desolate places.</p> - -<p>"It looks lonely," I said to my mate.</p> - -<p>"As hell!" he added, taking up the words as they fell from my tongue.</p> - -<p>We took our meal of bread and water on the ledge and saved up the crumbs -for our supper. When night came we turned into a field that lay near the -cottage, which we had seen from a distance earlier in the day.</p> - -<p>"It's a god's charity to have a shut gate between us and the world," -said Moleskin, as he fastened the bars of the fence. Some bullocks were -resting under a hazel clump. These we chased away, and sat down on the -spot which their bellies had warmed, and endeavoured to light our fire. -From under grey rocks, and from the crevices in the stone dyke, we -picked out light, dry twigs, and in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> course of an hour we had a -blazing flame, around which we dried our wet clothes. The clouds had -cleared away and the moon came out silently from behind the shadow of -the hills. The night was calm as the face of a sleeping girl.</p> - -<p>We lay down together when we had eaten our crumbs, but for a long while -I kept awake. A wind, soft as the breath of a child, ruffled the bushes -beside us and died away in a long-drawn swoon. Far in the distance I -could hear another, for it was the night of many winds, beating against -the bald peaks that thrust their pointed spires into the mystery of the -heavens. From time to time I could hear the falling earth as it was -loosened from its century-long resting place and flung heavily into the -womb of some fathomless abyss. God was still busy with the work of -creation!</p> - -<p>I was close to the earth, almost part of it, and the smell of the wet -sod was heavy in my nostrils. It was the breath of the world, the world -that was in the eternal throes of change all around me. Nature was -restless and throbbing with movement; streams were gliding forward -filled with a longing for unknown waters; winds were moving to and fro -with the indecision of homeless wayfarers; leaves were dropping from the -brown branches, falling down the curves of the wind silently and slowly -to the great earth that whispered out the secret of everlasting change. -The hazel clump twined its trellises of branches overhead, leaving -spaces at random for the eternal glory of the stars to filter through -and rest on our faces. Joe, bearded and wrinkled, slept and dreamt -perhaps of some night's heavy drinking and desperate fighting, or maybe -his dreams were of some weary shift which had been laboured out in the -lonely places of the world.</p> - -<p>Coming across the line of hills could be heard the gathering of the sea, -and the chant of the deep waters that were for ever voicing their -secrets to the throbbing shores.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>The fire burned down but I could not go to sleep. I looked in the dying -embers, and saw pictures in the flames and the redness; pictures of men -and women, and strange pictures of forlorn hopes and blasted -expectations. I saw weary kinless outcasts wandering over deserted -roads, shunned and accursed of all their kind. Also I saw women, old -women, who dragged out a sordid existence, labouring like beasts of -burden from the cradle to the grave. Also pictures of young women with -the blood of early life in them, and the fulness of maiden promise in -them, walking one by one in the streets of the midnight city—young -women, fair and beautiful, who knew of an easier means of livelihood -than that which is offered by learning the uses of sewing-needle or -loom-spindle in fetid garret or steam-driven mill. In the flames and the -redness I saw pictures of men and women who suffered; for in that, and -that only, there is very little change through all the ages. Thinking -thus I fell asleep.</p> - -<p>When I awoke, all the glory of the naked world was aflame with the early -sun. The red mud of our moleskins blended in harmony with the tints of -the great dawn. The bullocks were busy with their breakfasts and bore us -no ill-will for the wrong which we had done them the night before. Two -snails had crawled over Joe's coat, leaving a trail of slimy silver -behind them, and a couple of beetles had found a resting-place in the -seams of his velvet waistcoat. He rubbed his eyes when I called to him -and sat up.</p> - -<p>The snails curled up in mute protest on the ground, and the beetles -hurried off and lost themselves amid the blades of grass. Joe made no -effort to kill the insects. He lifted the snails off his coat and laid -them down easily on the grass. "Run, you little devils!" he said with a -laugh, as he looked at the scurrying beetles. "You haven't got hold of -me yet, mind."</p> - -<p>I never saw Joe kill an insect. He did not like to do so,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> he often told -me. "If we think evil of insects, what will they think of us?" he said -to me once. As for myself, I have never killed an insect knowingly in -all my life. My house for so long has been the wide world, that I can -afford to look leniently on all other inmates, animal or human. Four -walls coffin the human sympathies.</p> - -<p>When I rose to my feet I felt stiff and sore, and there was nothing to -eat for breakfast. My mate alluded to this when he said bitterly: "I -wish to God that I was a bullock!"</p> - -<p>A crow was perched on a bush some distance away, its head a little to -one side, and it kept eyeing us with a look of half quizzical contempt. -When Joe saw it he jumped to his feet.</p> - -<p>"A hooded crow!" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"I think that it is as well to start off," I said. "We must try and pick -up something for breakfast."</p> - -<p>My mate was still gazing at the tree, and he took no heed to my remark. -"A hooded crow!" he repeated, and lifting a stone flung it at the bird.</p> - -<p>"What about it?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Them birds, they eat dead men," Moleskin answered, as the crow flew -away. "There was Muck Devaney—Red Muck we called him—and he worked at -the Toward waterworks three winters ago. Red Muck had a temper like an -Orangeman, and so had the ganger. The two of them had a row about some -contract job, and Devaney lifted his lyin' time and jacked the graft -altogether. There was a heavy snow on the ground when he left our shack -in the evenin', and no sooner were his heels out of sight than a -blizzard came on. You know Toward Mountain, Flynn? Yes. Well, it is -seven long miles from the top of the hill to the nearest town. Devaney -never finished his journey. We found him when the thaw came on, and he -was lyin' stiff as a bone in a heap of snow. And them hooded crows!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -There was dozens of them pickin' the flesh from his naked -shoulder-blades. They had eat the very guts clean out of Red Muck, so we -had to bury him as naked as a newborn baby. By God! Flynn, they're one -of the things that I am afraid of in this world, them same hooded crows. -Just think of it! maybe that one that I just threw the stone at was one -of them as gobbled up the flesh of Muck Devaney."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> A sleep on an empty stomach in the full sun.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> One who steals to satisfy his hunger.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE COCK OF THE NORTH</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Though up may be up and down be down,</div> -<div class="i2">Time will make everything even,</div> -<div>And the man who starves at Greenock town</div> -<div class="i2">Will fatten at Kinlochleven;</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>So what does it matter if time be fleet,</div> -<div class="i2">And life sends no one to love us?</div> -<div>We've the dust of the roadway under our feet</div> -<div class="i2">And a smother of stars above us.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s15"> </span>—<i>A Wee Song.</i></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I think that the two verses given above were the best verses of a song -which I wrote on a bit of tea-paper and read to Moleskin on the last day -of our journey to Kinlochleven. Anyhow, they are the only two which I -remember. Since I had read part of the poem "Evelyn Hope," I was -possessed of a leaning towards lilting rhymes, and now and again I would -sit down and scribble a few lines of a song on a piece of paper. Times -were when I had a burning desire to read my effusions to Moleskin, but -always I desisted, thinking that he would perhaps laugh at me, or call -me fool. Perhaps I would sink in my mate's estimation. I began to like -Joe more and more, and daily it became apparent that he had a genuine -liking for me.</p> - -<p>We were now six days on our journey. Charity was cold, while -belly-thefts were few and far between. We were hungry, and the weather -being very hot at high noon, Moleskin lay down and had his dog-sleep. I -wrote a few other verses in addition to those which herald this -chapter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> and read them to my mate when he awoke. When I had finished I -asked Joe how he liked my poem.</p> - -<p>"It's a great song," answered Moleskin. "You're nearly as good a poet as -Two-shift Mullholland."</p> - -<p>"Two-shift Mullholland?" I repeated. "I've never heard of him. Do you -know anything written by him?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I do. Have you never heard of 'The Shootin' of the Crow'?"</p> - -<p>"Never," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You're more ignorant than I thought," said Joe, and without any further -explanation he started and sang the following song.</p> - -<p class="center">"THE SHOOTIN' OF THE CROW.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Come all you true-born navvies, attend unto my lay!</div> -<div>While walkin' down through Glasgow town, 'twas just the other day,</div> -<div>I met with Hell-fire Gahey, and he says to me: 'Hallo!</div> -<div>Maloney has got seven days for shootin' of the crow;</div> -<div class="i2">With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'It happened near beside the docks in Moran's pub, I'm told</div> -<div>Maloney had been on the booze, Maloney had a cold,</div> -<div>Maloney had no beer to drink, Maloney had no tin,</div> -<div>Maloney could not pay his way and so they ran him in,</div> -<div class="i2">With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy.'</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The judge he saw Maloney and he says, 'You're up again!</div> -<div>To sentence you to seven days it gives me greatest pain,</div> -<div>My sorrow at your woeful plight I try for to control;</div> -<div>And may the Lord, Maloney, have mercy on your soul,</div> -<div class="i2">And your fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy.'</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh! labour in the prison yard, 'tis very hard to bear,</div> -<div>And many a honest navvy man may sometimes enter there;</div> -<div>So here's to brave Maloney, and may he never go</div> -<div>Again to work in prison for the shootin' of the crow,</div> -<div class="i2">With his fol the diddle, fol the diddle daddy."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The reader of this story can well judge my utter literary simplicity at -the time when I tell him that I was angry with Joe for the criticism he -passed upon my poem. While blind to the defects of my own verses I was -wide awake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> to those of Mullholland, and I waited, angrily eager, until -Joe finished the song.</p> - -<p>"It's rotten!" I exclaimed. "You surely do not think that it is better -than mine. What does 'fol the diddle' mean? A judge would not say that -to a prisoner. Neither would he say, 'May the Lord have mercy on your -soul,' unless he was going to pass the sentence of death on the man."</p> - -<p>"What you say is quite right," replied Joe. "But a song to be any good -at all must have a lilt at the tail of it; and as to the judge sayin', -'May the Lord have mercy on your soul,' maybe he didn't say it, but if -you have 'control' at the end of one line, what must you have at the end -of the next one, cully? 'May the Lord have mercy on your soul' may be -wrong. I'll not misdoubt that. But doesn't it fit in nicely?"</p> - -<p>Moleskin gave me a square look of triumph, and went on with his harangue.</p> - -<p>"Barrin' these two things, the song is a true one. Maloney did get seven -days' hard for shootin' the crow, and I mind it myself. On the night of -his release I saw him in Moran's model by the wharf, and it was in that -same model that Mullholland sat down and wrote the song that I have sung -to you. It's a true song, so help me God! but yours!—How do <i>you</i> know -that we'll fatten at Kinlochleven? More apt to go empty-gutted there, if -you believe me! Then you say 'up is up, and down is down.' Who says that -they are not? No one will give the lie to that, and what's the good of -sayin' a thing that everyone knows about? You've not even a lilt at the -tail of your screed, so it's not a song, nor half a song; it's not even -a decent 'Come-all-you.' Honest to God, you're a fool, Flynn! Wait till -you hear Broken-Snout Clancy sing 'The Bold Navvy Man!' That'll be the -song that will make your heart warm. But your song was no good at all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -Flynn. If it had only a lilt to it itself, it might be middlin'."</p> - -<p>I recited the verse about Evelyn Hope, and when I finished, Joe asked me -what it was about. I confessed that I did not exactly know, and for an -hour afterwards we walked together in silence.</p> - -<p>Late in the evening we came to the King's Arms, a lonely public-house -half-way between the Bridge of Orchy and Kinlochleven. We hung around -the building until night fell, for Joe became interested in an outhouse -where hens were roosting. By an estimation of the stars it was nearly -midnight when both of us took off our boots, and approached the -henhouse. The door was locked, but my mate inserted a pointed steel bar, -which he always carried in his pocket, in the keyhole, and after he had -worked for half a minute the door swung open and he crept in.</p> - -<p>"Leave all to me," he said in a whisper.</p> - -<p>The hens were restless, and made little hiccoughy noises in their -throats, noises that were not nice to listen to. I stood in the centre -of the building while Joe groped cautiously around. After a little while -he passed me and I could see his big gaunt form in the doorway.</p> - -<p>"Come away," he whispered.</p> - -<p>About twenty yards from the inn he threw down that which he carried and -we proceeded to put on our boots.</p> - -<p>"It's a rooster," he said, pointing to the dead fowl; "a young soft one -too. When our boots are on, we'll slide along for a mile or so and drum -up. It's not the thing to cook your fowl on the spot where you stole it. -I mind once when I lifted a young pig——"</p> - -<p>Suddenly the young rooster fluttered to its feet and started to crow.</p> - -<p>"Holy hell!" cried Moleskin, and jumping to his feet he flung one of his -boots at the fowl. The aim was bad,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> and the bird zig-zagged off, -crowing loudly. Both of us gave chase.</p> - -<p>The bird was a very demon. Several times when we thought that we had -laid hands on it, it doubled in its tracks like a cornered fox and -eluded us. Once I tried to hit it with my foot, but the blow swung -clear, and my hobnailed boot took Moleskin on the shin, causing him to -swear deeply.</p> - -<p>"Fall on it, Joe; it's the only way!" I cried softly.</p> - -<p>"Fall be damned! You might as well try to fall on a moonbeam."</p> - -<p>A light appeared at the window of the public-house; a sash was thrown -open, and somebody shouted, "Who is there?"</p> - -<p>"Can you get hold of it?" asked Joe, as he stood to clean the sweat from -his unshaven face.</p> - -<p>"I cannot," I answered. "It's a wonderful bird."</p> - -<p>"Wonderful damned fraud!" said my mate bitterly. "Why didn't it die -decent?"</p> - -<p>"Who's there? I say," shouted the man at the window. I made a desperate -rush after the rooster, and grabbed it by the neck.</p> - -<p>"It will not get away this time, anyhow," I said.</p> - -<p>"Where is my other boot, Flynn?" called out Joe.</p> - -<p>"I do not know," I replied truthfully.</p> - -<p>The door opened, and Moleskin's boot was not to be found. We sank into -the shadow of the earth and waited, meanwhile groping around with our -hands for the missing property. Across the level a man came towards us -slowly and cautiously.</p> - -<p>"We had better run for it," I said.</p> - -<p>We rushed off like the wind, and the stranger panted in pursuit behind -us. Joe with a single boot on, struck the ground heavily with one foot; -the other made no sound. He struck his toe on a rock and swore; when he -struck it a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> second time he stopped like a shot and turned round. The -pursuer came to a halt also.</p> - -<p>"If you come another step nearer, I'll batter your head into jelly!" -roared Moleskin. The man turned hurriedly, and went back. Feeling -relieved we walked on for a long distance, until we came to a stream. -Here I lit a fire, plucked the rooster and cooked it, while Joe dressed -his toe, and cursed the fowl that caused him such a calamity. I gave one -of my boots to Joe and threw the other one away. Joe was wounded, and -being used in my early days to go barefooted, I always hated the -imprisonment of boots. I determined to go barefooted into Kinlochleven.</p> - -<p>"Do you hear it?" Joe suddenly cried, jumping up and grabbing my arm.</p> - -<p>I listened, and the sound of exploding dynamite could be heard in the -far distance.</p> - -<p>"The navvies on the night-shift, blastin' rocks in Kinlochleven!" cried -Joe, jumping to his feet and waving a wing of the fowl over his head. -"Hurrah! There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it. -Hurrah!"</p> - -<p>"Hurrah!" I shouted, for I was glad that our travels were near at an -end.</p> - -<p>Although it was a long cry till the dawn, we kicked our fire in to the -air and set out again on our journey, Joe limping, and myself -barefooted. We finished our supper as we walked, and each man was -silent, busy with his own thoughts.</p> - -<p>For myself I wanted to make some money and send it home to my own people -in Glenmornan. I reasoned with myself that it was unjust for my parents -to expect me to work for their betterment. Finding it hard enough to -earn my own livelihood, why should I irk myself about them? I was, like -Moleskin, an Ishmaelite, who without raising my hand against every man, -had every man's hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> against me. Men like Moleskin and myself are -trodden underfoot, that others may enjoy the fruit of centuries of -enlightenment. I cursed the day that first saw me, but, strangely -inconsistent with this train of thought, I was eager to get on to -Kinlochleven and make money to send to my own people in Glenmornan.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">MECCA</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh, God! that this was ended; that this our toil was past!</div> -<div>Our cattle die untended; our lea-lands wither fast;</div> -<div>Our bread is lacking leaven; our life is lacking friends,</div> -<div>And short's our prayer to Heaven for all that Heaven sends."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s15"> </span>—From <i>God's Poor</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The cold tang of the dawn was already in the air and the smell of the -earth was keen in our nostrils, when Moleskin and I breasted the steep -shoulder of a hill together, and saw the outer line of derricks standing -gaunt and motionless against the bald cliffs of Kinlochleven. From the -crest of the rise we could see the lilac gray vesture of the twilight -unfold itself from off the naked peaks that stood out boldly in the -ghostly air like carved gargoyles of some mammoth sculpture. A sense of -strange remoteness troubled the mind, and in the half-light the far -distances seemed vague and unearthly, and we felt like two atoms frozen -into a sea of silence amidst the splendour of complete isolation. A long -way off a line of hills stood up, high as the winds, and over their -storm-scarred ribs we saw or fancied we saw the milky white torrents -falling. We could not hear the sound of falling waters; the white frothy -torrents were the ghosts of streams.</p> - -<p>The mood or spell was one of a moment. A derrick near at hand clawed out -with a lean arm, and lifted a bucket of red muck into the air, then -turned noisily on its pivot, and was relieved of its burden. The sun -burst out suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> like an opening rose, and the garments of the day -were thrown across the world. One rude cabin sent up a gray spiral of -smoke into the air, then another and another. We sat on a rock, lit our -pipes, and gazed on the Mecca of our hopes.</p> - -<p>A sleepy hollow lay below; and within it a muddle of shacks, roofed with -tarred canvas, and built of driven piles, were huddled together in -bewildering confusion. These were surrounded by puddles, heaps of -disused wood, tins, bottles, and all manner of discarded rubbish. Some -of the shacks had windows, most of them had none; some had doors facing -north, some south; everything was in a most haphazard condition, and it -looked as if the buildings had dropped out of the sky by accident, and -were just allowed to remain where they had fallen. The time was now five -o'clock in the morning; the night-shift men were still at work and the -pounding of hammers and grating noises of drills could be heard -distinctly. The day-shift men, already out of bed, were busily engaged -preparing breakfast, and we could see them hopping half-naked around the -cabins, carrying pans and smoking tins in their hands, and roaring at -one another as if all were in a bad temper.</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' to nose around and look for a pair of understandin's," said -Joe, as he rose to his feet and sauntered away. "You wait here until I -come back."</p> - -<p>In fifteen minutes' time he returned, carrying a pair of well-worn -boots, which he gave to me. I put them on, and then together we went -towards the nearest cabin.</p> - -<p>Although it was high mid-summer the slush around the dwelling rose over -our boots, and dropped between the leather and our stockings. We entered -the building, which was a large roomy single compartment that served the -purpose of bedroom, eating-room, dressing-room, and gambling saloon. -Some of the inmates had sat up all night playing banker, and they were -still squatting around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> a rough plank where silver and copper coins -clanked noisily in the intervals between the game. The room, forty feet -square, and ten foot high, contained fifty bed-places, which were ranged -around the walls, and which rose one over the other in three tiers -reaching from the ground to the ceiling. A spring oozed through the -earthen floor, which was nothing but a puddle of sticky clay and water.</p> - -<p>A dozen or more frying-pans, crammed with musty, sizzling slices of -bacon, were jumbled together on the red hot-plate in the centre of the -room, and here and there amid the pile of pans, little black sooty cans -of brewing tea bubbled merrily. The odour of the rank tea was even -stronger than that of the roasting meat.</p> - -<p>The men were very ragged, and each of them was covered with a fine -coating of good healthy clay. The muck was caked brown on the bare arms, -and a man, by contracting his muscles firmly, could break the dirt clear -off his skin in hard, dry scales. No person of all those on whom I -looked had shaved for many months, and the hair stood out strongly from -their cheeks and jowls. I myself was the only hairless faced individual -there. I had not begun to shave then, and even now I only shave once a -fortnight. A few of the men were still in bed, and many were just -turning out of their bunks. On rising each man stood stark naked on the -floor, prior to dressing for the day. None were ashamed of their -nakedness: the false modesty of civilisation is unknown to the outside -places. To most people the sight of the naked human body is repulsive, -and they think that for gracefulness of form and symmetry of outline -man's body is much inferior to that of the animals of the field. I -suppose all people, women especially, are conscious of this, for nothing -else can explain the desire to improve nature's handiwork which is -inherent in all human beings.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>Joe and I approached the gamblers and surveyed the game, looking over -the shoulders of one of the players.</p> - -<p>"Much luck?" inquired my mate.</p> - -<p>"Not much," answered the man beside him, looking up wearily, although in -his eyes the passion of the game still burned brightly.</p> - -<p>"At it all night?"</p> - -<p>"All night," replied the player, wearily picking up the cards which had -been dealt out and throwing them away with an air of disgust.</p> - -<p>"I'm broke," he cried, and rising from his seat on the ground, he began -to prepare his meal. The other gamblers played on, and took no notice of -their friend's withdrawal.</p> - -<p>"It's nearly time that you gamblers stopped," someone shouted from -amidst the steam of the frying meat.</p> - -<p>"Hold your damned tongue," roared one player, who held the bank and who -was overtaking the losses of the night.</p> - -<p>"Will someone cook my grub?" asked another.</p> - -<p>"Play up and never mind your mealy grub, you gutsy whelp!" snarled a -third, who was losing heavily and who had forgotten everything but the -outcome of the game. Thus they played until the whistle sounded, calling -all out to work; and then each man snatched up a crust of bread, or a -couple of slices of cold ham, and went out to work in the barrow-squads -or muck-gangs where thousands laboured day by day.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile my mate and I had not been idle. I asked several questions -about the work while Joe looked for food as if nothing else in the world -mattered. Having urged a young fellow to share his breakfast with me, he -then nosed about on his own behalf, and a few minutes later when I -glanced around me I saw my pal sitting on the corner of a ground bunk, -munching a chunk of stale bread and gulping down mighty mouthfuls of -black tea from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> sooty can in which it had been brewed. On seeing me -watching him he lowered his left eyelid slightly, and went solemnly on -with his repast.</p> - -<p>"We'll go out and chase up a job now," said Moleskin, emptying his can -of its contents with a final sough. "It will be easy to get a start. Red -Billy Davis, old dog that he is, wants three hammermen, and we'll go to -him and get snared while it is yet early in the day."</p> - -<p>"But how do you know that there are three men wanted?" I asked. "I heard -nothing about it, although I asked several persons if there was any -chance of a job."</p> - -<p>"You've a lot to learn, cully," answered Moleskin. "The open ear is -better than the open mouth. I was listenin' while you were lookin' -around, and by the talk of the men I found out a thing or two. Come -along."</p> - -<p>We went out, full of belly and full of hope, and sought for Red Billy -Davis and his squad of hammermen. I had great faith in Moleskin, and now -being fully conscious of his superior knowledge I was ready to follow -him anywhere. After a long search, we encountered a man who sat on the -idle arm of a crane, whittling shavings off a splinter of wood with his -clasp-knife. The man was heavily bearded and extremely dirty. When he -saw us approaching he rose and looked at my mate.</p> - -<p>"Moleskin, by God!" he exclaimed, closing the knife and putting it in -his pocket. "Are you lookin' for a job?"</p> - -<p>"Can you snare an old hare this mornin'?" asked Joe.</p> - -<p>"H'm!" said the man.</p> - -<p>"Pay?" asked Joe laconically.</p> - -<p>"A tanner an hour, overtime seven and a half," said the man with the -whiskers.</p> - -<p>"The hammer?" asked Joe.</p> - -<p>"Hammer and jumper," answered the man. "You can take off your coat now."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>"This mate of mine is lookin' for work, too," said Joe, pointing at me.</p> - -<p>"He's light of shoulder and lean as a rake," replied the bearded man, -with undisguised contempt in his voice.</p> - -<p>My temper was up in an instant. I took a step forward with the intention -of pulling the old red-haired buck off his seat, when my mate put in a -word on my behalf.</p> - -<p>"He knocked out Carroty Dan in Burn's model," said Joe, by way of -recommendation, and my anger gave way to pride there and then.</p> - -<p>"If that is so he can take off his coat too," said the old fellow, -pulling out his clasp-knife and restarting on the rod. "Hammers and -jumpers are down in the cuttin', the dynamite is in the cabin at the far -end on the right. Slide."</p> - -<p>"Come back, lean-shanks," he called to me as I turned to go. "What is -your name?" he asked, when I turned round.</p> - -<p>"Dermod Flynn," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You have to pay me four shillin's when you lift your first pay," said -Davis.</p> - -<p>"That be damned!" interrupted Moleskin.</p> - -<p>"Four shillin's," repeated Red Billy, laying down his clasp-knife and -taking out a note-book and making an entry. "That's the price I charge -for a pair of boots like them."</p> - -<p>Moleskin looked at my boots, which it appears he had stolen from Red -Billy in the morning. Then he edged nearer to the ganger.</p> - -<p>"Put the cost against me," he said. "I'll give you two and a tanner for -the understandin's."</p> - -<p>"Two and a tanner it is," said Red Billy, and shut the book.</p> - -<p>"You must let me pay half," I said to Joe later.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"Not at all," he replied. "I have the best of the bargain."</p> - -<p>He put his hand in his pocket and drew out something. It was the -clasp-knife that Red Billy placed on the ground when making the entry in -his note-book.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">THE MAN WHO THRASHED CARROTY DAN</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"He could fight like a red, roaring bull."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe.</span></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Sixpence an hour meant thirty shillings a week, and a man was allowed to -work overtime until he fell at his shift. For Sunday work ninepence an -hour was given, so the navvies told me, and now I looked forward to the -time when I would have money enough and to spare. In anticipation I -computed my weekly earnings as amounting to two pounds ten, and I dreamt -of a day in the near future when I could again go south, find Norah -Ryan, and take her home as my wife to Glenmornan. I never thought of -making my home in a strange land. Oh! what dreams came to me that -morning as I took my place among the forty ragged members of Red Billy's -gang! Life opened freshly; my morbid fancies were dispelled, and I -blessed the day that saw my birth. I looked forward to the future and -said that it was time for me to begin saving money. When a man is in -misery he recoils from the thoughts of the future, but when he is happy -he looks forward in eager delight to the time to come.</p> - -<p>The principal labour of Red Billy's gang was rock-blasting. This work is -very dangerous and requires skilful handling of the hammer. In the art -of the hammer I was quite an adept, for did I not work under Horse Roche -on the —— Railway before setting out for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> Kinlochleven? Still, for all -that, I have known men who could not use a hammer rightly if they worked -with one until the crack of doom.</p> - -<p>I was new to the work of the jumper gang, but I soon learned how -operations were performed. One man—the "holder"—sat on the rock which -was to be bored, his legs straight out in front of him and well apart. -Between his knees he held the tempered steel drill with its sharp nose -thrust into the rock. The drill or "jumper" is about five feet long, and -the blunt upper end is rounded to receive the full force of the -descending hammer. Five men worked each drill, one holding it to the -rock while the other four struck it with their hammers in rotation. The -work requires nerve and skill, for the smallest error in a striker's -judgment would be fatal to the holder. The hammer is swung clear from -the hip and travels eighteen feet or more before it comes in contact -with the inch-square upper end of the jumper. The whole course of the -blow is calculated instinctively before the hammer rises to the swing. -This work is classed as unskilled labour.</p> - -<p>When it is considered that men often work the whole ten-hour shift with -the eternal hammer in their hands it is really a wonder that more -accidents do not take place, especially since the labour is often -performed after a night's heavy drinking or gambling. A holder is seldom -wounded; when he is struck he dies. Only once have I seen a man thus get -killed. The descending hammer flew clear of the jumper and caught the -poor fellow over the temple, knocking him stiff dead.</p> - -<p>Red Billy's gang was divided into squads, each consisting of five -persons. We completed a squad not filled up before our arrival, and -proceeded to work with our two hammers. Stripped to our trousers and -shirt, and puffing happily at our pipes, we were soon into the lie of -the job, and swung our heavy hammers over our heads<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> to the virile music -of meeting steel. Most of the men knew Joe. He had worked somewhere and -at some time with most on the place, and all had a warm word of welcome -for Moleskin. "By God, it's Moleskin! Have you a chew of 'baccy to -spare?" was the usual form of greeting. There was no handshake. It is -unknown among the navvies, just as kissing is unknown in Glenmornan. For -a few hours nobody took any notice of me, but at last my mate introduced -me to several of those who had gathered around, when we took advantage -of Red Billy's absence to fill our pipes and set them alight.</p> - -<p>"Do you know that kid there, that mate of mine?" he asked, pointing at -me with his pipe-shank. I felt confused, for every eye was fixed on me, -and lifting my hammer I turned to my work, trying thus to hide my -self-consciousness.</p> - -<p>"A blackleg without the spunk of a sparrow!" said one man, a -tough-looking fellow with the thumb of one hand missing, who, not -satisfied with taking off his coat to work, had taken off his shirt as -well. "What the hell are you workin' for when the ganger is out of -sight?"</p> - -<p>I felt nettled and dropped my hammer.</p> - -<p>"I did not know that it was wrong to work when the ganger was out of -sight," I said to the man who had spoken. "But if you want to shove it -on to me you are in the wrong shop!"</p> - -<p>"That's the way to speak, Flynn," said Moleskin approvingly. Then he -turned to the rest of the men.</p> - -<p>"That kid, that mate of mine, rose stripped naked from his bed and -thrashed Carroty Dan in Burn's model lodging-house," he said. "Now it -takes a good man to thrash Carroty."</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> knocked Carroty out," said the man who accused me of working when -the ganger was out of sight, and he looked covertly in my direction.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>"There's a chance for you, Flynn!" cried Moleskin, in a delighted -voice. "You'll never get the like of it again. Just pitch into Hell-fire -Gahey and show him how you handle your pair of fives."</p> - -<p>Gahey looked at me openly and eagerly, evincing all tokens of pleasure -and willingness to come to fistic conclusions with me there and then. As -for myself, I felt in just the right mood for a bit of a tussle, but at -that moment Red Billy appeared from behind the crane handle and shouted -across angrily:</p> - -<p>"Come along, you God-damned, forsaken, lousy, beggarly, forespent -wastrels, and get some work done!" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Can a man not get time to light his pipe?" remonstrated Moleskin.</p> - -<p>"Time in hell!" shouted Billy. "You're not paid for strikin' matches -here."</p> - -<p>We started work again; the fight was off for the moment, and I felt -sorry. It is disappointing to rise to a pitch of excitement over -nothing; and a fight keeps a man alert and alive.</p> - -<p>Having bored the rock through to the depth of four or five feet, we -placed dynamite in the hole, attached a fuse, lit it, and hurried off to -a place of safety until the rock was blown to atoms. Then we returned to -our labour at the jumper and hammer.</p> - -<p>Dinner-time came around; the men shared their grub with my mate and me, -Hell-fire Gahey giving me a considerable share of his food. Red Billy, -who took his grub along with us, cut his bread into thin slices with a -dirty tobacco-stained knife, and remarked that he always liked tobacco -juice for kitchen. Red Billy chewed the cud after eating, a most -curious, but, as I have learned since, not an unprecedented thing. He -was very proud of this peculiarity, and said that the gift—he called it -a gift<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>—was the outcome of a desire when young and hungry to chew over -again the food which he had already eaten.</p> - -<p>No one spoke of my proposed fight with Gahey, and I wondered at this -silence. I asked Moleskin if Hell-fire was afraid of me.</p> - -<p>"Not at all," said Joe. "But he won't put his dinner-hour to loss by -thrashin' a light rung of a cully like you. That's the kind of him."</p> - -<p>I laughed as if enjoying Joe's remark, but in my mind I resolved to go -for Gahey as soon as I got the chance, and hammer him, if able, until he -shrieked for mercy. It was most annoying to know that a man would not -put his time to loss in fighting me.</p> - -<p>We finished work at six o'clock in the evening, and Moleskin and I -obtained two shillings of sub.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> apiece. Then we set off for the -store, a large rambling building in which all kinds of provisions were -stored, and bought food. Having procured one loaf, one pound of steak, -one can of condensed milk and a pennyworth of tea and sugar, we went to -our future quarters in Red Billy's shack.</p> - -<p>Our ganger built a large shack at Kinlochleven when work was started -there, and furnished it with a hot-plate, beds, bedding, and a door. He -forgot all about windows, or at least considered them unnecessary for -the dwelling-place of navvy men. Once a learned man objected to the lack -of fresh air in Billy's shack. "If you go outside the door you'll get -plenty of air, and if you stay out it will be fresher here," was Billy's -answer. To do Billy justice, it is necessary to say that he slept in the -shack himself. Three shillings a week secured the part use of a bedplace -for each man, and the hot-plate was used in common by the inmates of the -shack. At the end of the week the three shillings were deducted from the -men's pay. Moleskin and I had no difficulty in securing a bed, which we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -had to share with Gahey, my rival. Usually three men lay in each bunk, -and sometimes it happened that four unwashed dirty humans were huddled -together under the one evil-smelling, flea-covered blanket.</p> - -<p>Red Billy's shack was built of tarred wooden piles, shoved endwise into -the earth, and held together by iron cross-bars and wooden couplings. -Standing some distance apart from the others, it was neither better nor -worse than any of the rest. I mean that it could be no worse; and there -was not a better shack in all the place. As it happened to stand on a -mountain spring a few planks were thrown across the floor to prevent the -water from rising over the shoe-mouths of the inmates. In warm weather -the water did not come over the flooring; in the rainy season the -flooring was always under the water. A man once said that the Highlands -were the rain-trough of the whole world.</p> - -<p>The beds were arranged one over another in three rows which ran round -the entire hut, which was twelve feet high and about thirty feet square. -The sanitary authorities took good care to see that every cow in the -byre at Braxey farm had so many cubic feet of breathing space, but there -was no one to bother about the navvies' byres in Kinlochleven; it was -not worth anybody's while to bother about our manner of living.</p> - -<p>Moleskin and I had no frying-pan, but Gahey offered us the use of his, -until such time as we raised the price of one. We accepted the offer and -forthwith proceeded to cook a good square supper. It had barely taken us -five minutes to secure our provisions, but by the time we started -operations on the hot-plate the gamblers were busy at work, playing -banker on a discarded box in the centre of the building. Gahey, who was -one of the players, seemed to have forgotten all about the projected -fight between himself and me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>"Is Gahey not going to fight?" I asked Moleskin in a whisper.</p> - -<p>"My God! don't you see that he's playin' banker?" said Joe, and I had to -be content with that answer, which was also an explanation of the man's -lack of remembrance. Fighting must be awfully common and boring to the -man when he forgets one so easily, I thought. To me a fight was -something which I looked forward to for days, and which I thought of for -weeks afterwards. Now I felt a trifle afraid of Gahey. I was of little -account in his eyes, and I concluded, for I jump quickly to conclusions, -that I would not make much of a show if I stood up against such a man, a -man who looked upon a fight as something hardly worthy of notice. I -decided to let the matter drop and trouble about it no further. I think -that if Gahey had asked me to fight at that moment I should have -refused. The truth was that I became frightened of the man.</p> - -<p>"Can I have a hand while I'm cookin' my grub?" Joe asked the dealer, a -man of many oaths whose name was Maloney, a personage already enshrined -in the song written by Mullholland on the <i>Shootin' of the Crow</i>.</p> - -<p>"The more the merrier!" was the answer, given in a tone of hearty -assent. On hearing these words Moleskin left the pan under my care, put -down a coin on the table, and with one eye on the steak, and another on -the game, he waited for the turn-up of the banker's card. During the -whole meal my mate devoted the intervals between bites to the placing of -money on the card table. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, and when -the game concluded with a free fight my mate had lost every penny of his -sub., and thirteen pence which he had borrowed from me. It was hard to -determine how the quarrel started, but at the commencement nearly every -one of the players was involved in the fight, which gradually resolved -itself into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> an affair between two of the gamblers, Blasting Mick and -Ben the Moocher.</p> - -<p>Red Billy Davis came in at that moment, and between two planks, -wallowing in the filth, he found the combatants tearing at one another -for all they were worth.</p> - -<p>"Go out and fight, and be damned to yous!" roared Red Billy, catching -the two men as they scrambled to their feet. "You want to break -ev'rything in the place, you do! Curses be on you! go out into the world -and fight!" he cried, taking them by their necks and shoving them -through the door.</p> - -<p>Nothing daunted, however, both continued the quarrel outside in the -darkness. No one evinced any desire to go out and see the result of the -fight, but I was on the tip-toe of suspense waiting for the finish of -the encounter. I could hear the combatants panting and slipping outside, -but thinking that the inmates of the shack would consider me a greenhorn -if I went to look at the fight I remained inside. I resolved to follow -Moleskin's guidance for at least a little while longer; I lacked the -confidence to work on my own initiative.</p> - -<p>"Clean broke!" said Moleskin, alluding to his own predicament, as he sat -down by the fire, and asked the man next to him for a chew of tobacco. -"Money is made round to go round, anyway," he went on; "and there is -some as say that it is made flat to build upon, but that's damned rot. -Doesn't ev'ryone here agree with that?"</p> - -<p>"Ev'ryone," was the hearty response.</p> - -<p>"Why the devil do all of you agree?" Joe looked savagely exasperated. -"Has no man here an opinion of his own? You, Tom Slavin, used to save -your pay when you did graft at Toward Waterworks, and what did <i>you</i> do -with your money?"</p> - -<p>Tom Slavin was a youngish fellow, and Joe's enquiry caused him to look -redder than the hot-plate.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>"He bought penny ribbons and brass bracelets for Ganger Farley's -daughter," put in Red Billy, who had quickly regained his good humour; -"but in the end the jade went and married a carpenter from Glasgow."</p> - -<p>Red Billy chuckled in his beard. He was twice a widower, grass and clay, -and he was a very cynical old man. I did not take much heed to the -conversation; I was listening to the scuffle outside.</p> - -<p>"What did I always say about women!" said Moleskin, launching into the -subject of the fair sex. "Once get into the hands of a woman and she'll -drive you to hell and leave you with the devil when she gets you there. -How many fools can a woman put through her hands? Eh! How much water can -run through a sieve? No matter how many lovers a woman has, she has -always room for one more. It's a well-filled barn that doesn't give room -for the threshin' of one extra sheaf. Comin' back to that sliver of a -Slavin's wenchin', who is the worst off now, the carpenter or Tom? I'll -go bail that one is jealous of the other; that one's damned because he -did and the other's damned because he didn't."</p> - -<p>"There's a sort of woman, Gourock Ellen they call her," interrupted Red -Billy with a chuckle, "and she nearly led you to hell in Glasgow three -years ago, Mister Moleskin."</p> - -<p>"And what about the old heifer you made love to in Clydebank, Moleskin?" -asked James Clancy, a man with a broken nose and great fame as a singer, -who had not spoken before.</p> - -<p>"Oh! that Glasgow woman," said Moleskin, taking no heed of the second -question. "I didn't think very much of her."</p> - -<p>"What was wrong with her?" asked Billy.</p> - -<p>"She was a woman; isn't that enough?"</p> - -<p>"It was a different story on the night when you and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Ginger Simpson -fought about her in the Saltmarket," cut in some individual who was -sitting in the bed sewing patches on his trousers.</p> - -<p>"I've fought my man and knocked him out many a time, when there wasn't a -wench within ten miles of me," cried Moleskin. "Doesn't ev'ryone here -believe that?"</p> - -<p>"But that woman in Clydebank!" persisted Clancy.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen Ginger Simpson of late?" said Moleskin, making an effort -to change the subject, for he observed that he was cornered. It was -evident that some of the inmates of the shack had learned facts relating -to his career, which Moleskin would have preferred to remain unknown.</p> - -<p>"Last winter I met him in Greenock," said Sandy MacDonald, a man with a -wasting disease, who lay in a corner bunk at the end of the shack. "He -told me all about the fight in the Saltmarket, and that Gourock -Ellen——"</p> - -<p>"But the Clydebank woman——"</p> - -<p>"Listen!" said Joe, interrupting Clancy's remark. "They're at it outside -yet. It must be a hell of a fight between the two of them."</p> - -<p>He referred to Blasting Mick and Ben the Moocher, who were still busily -engaged in thrashing one another outside, and in the silence that -followed Joe's remark I could hear distinctly the thud of many blows -given and taken by the two combatants in the darkness.</p> - -<p>"Let them fight; that's nothin' to us," said Red Billy, taking a bite -from the end of his plug. "But for my own part I would like to know -where Gourock Ellen is now."</p> - -<p>Joe made no answer; he was visibly annoyed, and I saw his fists closing -tightly.</p> - -<p>"Do you mind the Clydebank woman, Moleskin?" asked Clancy, making a -final effort in his enquiries. "She was fond of her pint, and had a -horrid squint."</p> - -<p>"I'll squint you, by God!" roared Moleskin, reaching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> out and gripping -Clancy by the scruff of the neck. "If I hear you talkin' about Clydebank -again, I'll thicken your ear for you, seein' that I cannot break your -nose! And you, you red-bearded sprat, you!" this to Red Billy Davis; "if -you mention Gourock Ellen again, I'll leave your eyes in such a state -that you'll not be fit to see one of your own gang for six months to -come."</p> - -<p>Just at that moment the two fighters came in, and attracted the whole -attention of the party inside by their appearance. They looked worn and -dishevelled, their clothes were torn to ribbons, their cheeks were -covered with clay and blood, and their hair and beards looked like mops -which had been used in sweeping the bottom of a midden. One good result -of the two men's timely entrance was that the rest of the party forgot -their own particular grievances.</p> - -<p>"Quite pleased with yoursels now?" asked Red Billy Davis, but the -combatants did not answer. They sat down, took off their boots, scraped -the clay from their wounds, and turned into bed.</p> - -<p>"Moleskin, do you know Gourock Ellen?" I asked my mate when later I -found him sitting alone in a quiet corner.</p> - -<p>Moleskin glared at me furiously. "By this and by that, Flynn! if you -talk to me about Gourock Ellen again I'll scalp you," he answered.</p> - -<p>For a moment I felt a trifle angry, but having sense enough to see that -Moleskin was sore cut with the outcome of the argument, and knowing that -he was the only friend whom I had in all Kinlochleven I kept silent, -stifling the words of anger that had risen to my tongue. By humouring -one another's moods we have become inseparable friends.</p> - -<p>One by one the men turned into bed. Maloney having collared all the -day's sub. there was no more gambling that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> night. Joe sat for a while -bare naked, getting a belly heat at the fire, as he himself expressed -it, before he turned into bed.</p> - -<p>"Where have you left your duds, Flynn?" he asked, as he rose to his feet -and extinguished the naphtha lamp which hung from the roof by a piece of -wire. I was already under the blankets, glad of their warmth, meagre -though it was, after so many long chilly nights on the road.</p> - -<p>"They are under my pillow," I answered.</p> - -<p>"And your bluchers?"</p> - -<p>"On the floor."</p> - -<p>"Put them under your pillow too, or maybe you'll be without them in the -mornin'."</p> - -<p>Acting upon Joe's advice, I jumped out of bed, groped in the darkness, -found my boots and placed them under my pillow. Presently, wedged in -between the naked bodies of Moleskin Joe and Hell-fire Gahey, I -endeavoured to test the strength of the latter's arms by pressing them -with my fingers. The man was asleep, if snoring was to be taken as a -sign, and presently I was running my hand over his body, testing the -muscles of his arms, shoulders, and chest. He was covered with hair, -more like a brute than a human; long, curling, matted hair, that was -rough as fine wire when the hand came in contact with it. The -rubber-like pliability of the man's long arms impressed me, and assured -me that he would be a quick hitter when he started fighting. Added to -that he had a great fame as a fighting man in Kinlochleven. He was a -loud snorer too; I have never met a man who could snore like Gahey, and -snoring is one of the vices which I detest. Being very tired after the -long homeless tramp from Greenock, I fell asleep by-and-bye; but I did -not sleep for long. The angry voice of Joe awakened me, and I heard him -expostulate with Hell-fire on the unequal distribution of the blankets.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"You hell-forsaken Irish blanket-grabber, you!" Joe was roaring; -"you've got all the clothes in the bed wrapped round your dirty hide."</p> - -<p>"Ye're a hell-fire liar, and that's what ye are!" snorted Gahey. "It's -yerself that has got all the beddin'."</p> - -<p>Joe replied with an oath and a vigorous tug at the blankets. In turn my -other bedmate pulled them back, and for nearly five minutes both men -engaged in a mad tug-of-war. Hell-fire got the best of it in the end, -for he placed his back against the wall of the shack, planted his feet -in my side, and pulled as hard as he was able until he regained complete -possession of the disputed clothing. Just then Moleskin's hand passed -over my head with a mighty swish in the direction of Gahey. I turned -rapidly round and lay face downwards on the pillow in order to avoid the -blows of the two men as they fought across my naked body. And they did -fight! The dull thud of fist on flesh, the grunts and pants of the men, -the creaking of the joints as their arms were thrown outwards, the jerky -spring of the wooden bunk-stanchions as they shook beneath the straining -bodies, and the numberless blows which landed on me in the darkness -makes the memory of the first night in Kinlochleven for ever green in my -mind.</p> - -<p>Rising suddenly to his feet Gahey stood over me in a crouching position -with both his heels planted in the small of my back. The pain was almost -unendurable, and I got angry. It was almost impossible to move, but by a -supreme effort I managed to wriggle round and throw Gahey head-foremost -into Moleskin's arms, whereupon the two fighters slithered out of bed, -leaving the blankets to me, and continued their struggle on the floor.</p> - -<p>Somewhere in the middle of the shack I could hear Red Billy swearing as -he endeavoured to light a match on the upper surface of the hot-plate.</p> - -<p>"My blessed blankets!" he was lamenting. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> damned scoundrels! you'll -not leave one in the hut. Fighting in bed just the same as if you were -lyin' in a pig-sty. What the devil was I thinkin' of when I took on that -pig of a Moleskin Joe?"</p> - -<p>Billy ceased thinking just then, for a wild swing of Moleskin's heavy -fist missed Gahey and caught the ganger under the ear. The whiskered one -dropped with a groan amid the floor-planks and lay, kicking, shouting -meanwhile that Moleskin had murdered him. Someone lit a match, and my -bedmates ceased fighting and seemed little the worse for their -adventure. Billy's face looked ghastly, and a red streak ran from his -nose into the puddle in which he lay. He had now stopped speaking and -was fearfully quiet. I jumped out of bed, shaking in every limb, for I -thought that the old ganger was killed.</p> - -<p>"A tin of water thrown in his face will bring him round," I said, but -feared at the same time that it would not.</p> - -<p>"Or a bucketful," someone suggested.</p> - -<p>"Stab a pin under the quick of his nail."</p> - -<p>"Burn a feather under his nose."</p> - -<p>"Give him a dig in the back."</p> - -<p>"Or a prod in the ribs."</p> - -<p>The match had gone out, no one could find another, and the voices of -advice came from the darkness in all the corners of the room. Even old -Sandy MacDonald, who could find no cure for his own complaint, the -wasting disease, was offering endless advice on the means of curing Red -Billy Davis.</p> - -<p>A match was again found; the lamp was lit, and after much rough -doctoring on the part of his gang, the ganger recovered and swore -himself to sleep. Joe and Gahey came back together and stood by the bed.</p> - -<p>"It's myself that has the hard knuckles, Moleskin," said Gahey. "And -they're never loth to come in contact with flesh that's not belongin' to -the man who owns them."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"There's a plot of ground here, and it's called the 'Ring,'" said -Moleskin. "About seven o'clock the morrow evenin', I'll be out that way -for a stroll. Many a man has broke a hard knuckle against my jaw, and if -you just meet me in the Ring——"</p> - -<p>"I'll take a bit of a dander round there, Joe," said Hell-fire, and -filled with ineffable content both men slipped into their bed, and fell -asleep. As for myself, the dawn was coming through a chink in the shack -when my eyes closed in slumber.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Wages paid on the day on which it is earned.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">A GREAT FIGHT</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>When rugged rungs stand up to fight, stark naked to the buff,</div> -<div>Each taken blow but gives them zest, they cannot have enough,</div> -<div>For they are out to see red blood, to curse and club and clout,</div> -<div>And few men know and no one cares what brings the fuss about."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s15"> </span>—From <i>Hard Knuckles</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>About fifty yards distant from Red Billy's hut a circle of shacks -enclosed a level piece of ground, and this was used as a dumping place -for empty sardine cans, waste tins, scrap iron, and broken bottles. This -was also the favourite spot where all manner of quarrels were settled -with the fists. It had been christened the Ring, and in those days many -a heavy jowl was broken there and many a man was carried out of the -enclosure seeing all kinds of dancing lights in front of his eyes. It -was to this spot that Moleskin and Gahey came to settle their dispute on -the evening of the second day, and I came with them, Joe having -appointed me as his second, whose main duty would consist in looking on -and giving a word of approval to my principal now and again. When we -arrived two fights were already in progress, and my mates had to wait -until one of these was brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Some men -who had come out through sympathy with the combatants were seated on the -ground in one corner, and had transferred their interest from the -quarrels to a game of banker or brag. Moleskin and Gahey evinced not the -slightest interest in the two fights that were taking place; but -grumbled a little because they had to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> wait their turn so long. For -myself, I could hardly understand my mate's indifference to other -people's quarrels. At that time, as a true Irishman, I could have spent -all day long looking at fights. These men looked upon a fight as they -looked upon a shift. "Hurry up and get it done, and when it is done -trouble no more about it." Another man's shift or another man's fight -was not their business.</p> - -<p>I could not take my eyes away from the struggles which were going on -already. A big Irishman, slow of foot, strong and heavy-going, was -engaged in an encounter with a little Pole, who handled his fists -scientifically, and who had battered his opponent's face to an ugly -purple by the time we arrived. However, in the end the Irishman won. He -lifted his opponent bodily, and threw him, naked shoulders and all, into -the middle of a heap of broken bottles and scraggy tins. The Pole would -fight no more. His mates pulled the edged scraps of tin out of his -flesh, while his victor challenged all Poles (there were a fair -sprinkling of them at Kinlochleven) who were yet on the safe side of -hell to deadly battle.</p> - -<p>The second fight was more vindictive. A Glasgow craneman had fallen foul -of an English muck-filler, and the struggle had already lasted for the -best part of an hour. Both men were stripped to the buff, and red -splotches of blood and dirt covered their steaming bodies. The craneman -thought that he had finished matters conclusively when he gave his -opponent the knee in the stomach, and knocked him stiff to the ground. -Just as he was on the point of leaving the ring the Englishman suddenly -recovered, rose to his knees and, grabbing his adversary by the legs, -inserted his teeth in the thick of the victor's right calf. Nothing -daunted, however, the craneman bent down and tightened his thumbs under -his enemy's ear, and pressed strongly until the latter let go his hold.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"Our turn now," said Moleskin affably, as he stripped to the waist and -fastened his gallowses around his waist. "It'll give me much pleasure to -blacken your eyes, Gahey."</p> - -<p>Joe was a fine figure when stripped. His flesh was pure white below the -brown of his neck, and the long muscles of his arms stood out in clearly -defined ridges. When he stretched his arms his well-developed biceps -rose and fell in graceful unison with every movement of his -perfectly-shaped chest. When on the roads, dressed in every curious -garment which he could beg, borrow, or thieve, Joe looked singularly -unprepossessing; but here, naturally garbed, and standing amidst the -nakedness of nature, he looked like some magnificent piece of sculpture, -gifted with life and fresh from the hands of the genius who fashioned -it.</p> - -<p>Gahey was of different build altogether. The profusion of hair that -covered his body resolved itself into a mane almost in the hollow of the -breast bone. His flesh was shrivelled and dried; his limbs looked like -raw pig-iron, which had in some strange manner been transformed into the -semblance of a human being.</p> - -<p>"Hell-fire and Moleskin Joe," I heard the gamblers say as they threw -down their cards and scraped the money from the ground. "This will be a -good set-to. Moleskin can handle his mits, and by this and that, -Hell-fire is no slow one!"</p> - -<p>Joe stepped into the ring, hitched up his trousers and waited. Gahey -followed, stood for a moment, then swung out for his enemy's head, only -to find his blow intercepted by an upward sweep of the arm of Moleskin, -who followed up his movement of defence by a right feint for the body of -Gahey, and a straight left that went home from the shoulder. Gahey -replied with a heavy smash to the ribs, and Joe looked at him with a smile.</p> - -<p>"See and don't hurt your knuckles on my ribs, Gahey," he said.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p><p>"I was only feelin' if yer heart was beatin' just a trifle faster than -the usual," replied Gahey.</p> - -<p>Both men smiled, but the smile was a mask, behind which, clear-headed -and cool-eyed, each of them looked for an opening and an opportunity to -drive home a blow. To each belonged the wisdom bred of many weary, -aching fights and desperate gruellings. Gahey was by far the quicker -man; his long brown arms shot out like whiplashes, and his footwork was -very clever. He was a man, untrained in the art, but a natural fighter. -His missing thumb seemed to place him at no disadvantage. Joe was slower -but by far the stronger man. He never lost his head, and his blows had -the impact of a knotted club. When he landed on the flesh of the body, -every knuckle left its own particular mark; when he landed on the face, -there was a general disfigurement.</p> - -<p>Gahey broke through the mask of his smile, and struck out with his -right. In his eyes the purpose betrayed itself, and his opponent, -forewarned, caught the blow on his arm. Hell-fire darted in with the -left and took Joe on the stomach. The impact was sharp and sudden; my -mate winced a trifle slightly, but the next moment he forced a smile -into his face.</p> - -<p>"You're savin' your knuckles, matey," he said to Gahey. "There's no -danger of you breakin' them on the soft of my belly."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll test them here," Gahey retorted, and came in with a -resounding smack to Moleskin's jaw. Joe received the blow stolidly, and -swung a right for Gahey, but, missing his man, he fell to the ground.</p> - -<p>"See! see!" everyone around the ring shouted. "Who'd have thought that a -light rung of a fellow like Gahey would have beat Moleskin Joe?"</p> - -<p>"Wait till he's beaten!" I shouted back angrily. "I'll have something to -say to some of you idiots."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>"Good, Flynn!" said Moleskin, rising to his feet. "Just put in a word -on my behalf with them lubberly coopers. I'll see to them myself in a -minute or two, when I get this wee job off my hands."</p> - -<p>So saying, my mate made for Gahey, who was afraid to come into contact -with Joe when he was on the ground. The men fought to win, and the fight -had no rules. All was fair, clinching, clutching, scraping, kicking, -sarcasm, and repartee. Joe followed Gahey up, coming nearer every moment -and eager to get into grips. When that would happen, Gahey was lost; but -being wary, he avoided Moleskin's clutches, and kept hopping around, -aiming in at intervals one of his lightning blows, and raising a red -mark on Moleskin's white body whenever he struck. Joe kept walking after -his man; nothing deterred him, he would keep at it until he achieved his -purpose. The other man's hope lay in knocking Moleskin unconscious; but -even that would ensure victory only for the moment. Joe once fought a -man twenty-six times, and got knocked out every time. In the -twenty-seventh fight, Joe knocked out his opponent. Joe did not know -when he was beaten, and thus he was never defeated.</p> - -<p>Now he kept walking stolidly round and round the ring after Gahey. -Sometimes he struck out; nearly always he missed, and seldom was he -quick enough to avoid the lightning blows of his enemy. Even yet he was -smiling, although the smile had long gone from the face of Gahey, who -was still angry and wanting to inflict punishment. He inflicted -punishment, but it seemed to have no effect; apparently unperturbed, Joe -took it all without wincing.</p> - -<p>The crowd watched Gahey wistfully; now they knew instinctively that he -was going to get beaten. Joe was implacable, resistless. He was walking -towards an appointed goal steadily and surely; his pace was merciless, -and it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> slow, but in the end it would tell. For myself, I doubted if -Joe could be successful. He was streaming with blood, one eyebrow was -hanging, and the flesh of the breast was red and raw. Gahey was almost -without a scratch; if he finished the fight at that moment, he would -leave the ring nearly as fresh as when he came into it. Joe still -smiled, but the smile looked ghastly, when seen through the blood. Now -and again he passed a joke.</p> - -<p>The look of fear came into Gahey's eyes suddenly. It came to him when he -realised that he would be beaten if he did not knock Joe out very soon. -Then he endeavoured at every opportunity to strike fully and heavily, -trying to land on the point, but this Joe kept jealously guarded. Gahey -began to lose confidence in himself; once or twice he blundered and -almost fell into Joe's arms, but saved himself by an effort.</p> - -<p>"I'll get you yet, my Irish blanket-grabber!" Joe said each time.</p> - -<p>"Get him now and put an end to the fight," I cried to Moleskin. "It's -not worth your while to spend so much time over a little job."</p> - -<p>Joe took my advice and rushed. Gahey struck out, but Joe imprisoned the -striking arm, and drawing it towards him, he gripped hold of Gahey's -body. Then, without any perceptible effort, he lifted Gahey over his -head and held him there at arm's length for a few minutes. Afterwards he -took him down as far as his chest.</p> - -<p>"For God's sake don't throw me into the tins, Moleskin," cried Gahey.</p> - -<p>"I don't want to dirty the tins," answered Joe. "Now I want to ask you a -question. Who was right about the blankets last night?"</p> - -<p>Gahey gave no answer. Joe threw him on the ground, went on top of him, -and began knuckling his knees along Gahey's ribs.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>"Who was right about the blankets last night?" asked Moleskin again.</p> - -<p>"You were," said Gahey sulkily. Joe smiled and rose to his feet.</p> - -<p>"That's a wee job finished," he said to me. "You could knock Gahey out, -yourself, Flynn."</p> - -<p>"Could ye, bedamned!" roared Gahey, dancing around me and making strange -passes with his fist.</p> - -<p>"Go on, Flynn, give it to him same as you did with Carroty in Greenock!" -shouted Joe as he struggled with the shirt which he was pulling over his -head. Gahey's lip was swollen, his left ear had been thickened, but -otherwise he had not received a scratch in the fight with Moleskin, and -he was now undoubtedly eager to try conclusions with me. As I have said, -I was never averse to a stand-up fight, and though the exhibition which -Hell-fire made against Joe filled me with profound respect for the man, -I looked at him squarely between the eyes for a moment, and then with a -few seasonable oaths I stripped to the waist, my blood rushing through -my veins at the thought of the coming battle.</p> - -<p>I am not much to look at physically, but am strong-boned, though lacking -muscle and flesh. I can stand any amount of rough treatment; and in -after days men, who knew something about the art of boxing, averred that -I was gifted with a good punch. Though very strong, my bearing is -deceptive; new mates are always disinclined to believe that my strength -is out of keeping with my appearance, until by practical demonstration -they are taught otherwise. While slender of arm my chest measurement is -very good, being over forty-three inches, and height five feet eleven. -In movement inclined to be slow, yet when engaged in a fight I have an -uncommonly quick eye for detail, and can preserve a good sound striking -judgment even when getting the worst of the encounter, and never yet -have I given in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> to my man until he knocked me unconscious to the -ground.</p> - -<p>Gahey stood in the centre of the enclosure, and waited for me with an -air of serene composure, and carried the self-confident look of a man -who is going to win.</p> - -<p>Despite the ease with which Moleskin had settled Gahey a few minutes -previously, I felt a bit nervous when I took my way into the open and -glanced at the circle of dirty, animated faces that glared at me from -all comers of the ring. Gahey did not seem a bit afraid, and he laughed -in my face when I raised my hands gingerly in assuming an attitude of -defence. I did not feel angry with the man. I was going to fight in a -cold-blooded manner without reason or excuse. In every previous fight I -had something to annoy me before starting; I saw red before a blow was -given or taken. But now I had no grievance against the man and he had -none against me. We wanted to fight one another—that was all.</p> - -<p>Gahey, though apparently confident of victory, was taking no chances. He -swung his right for my head in the first onslaught, and I went slap to -the ground like a falling log.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Flynn!" cried Joe in an agonised voice; and I thought that his -words were whispered in my ear where I lay. Up to my feet I jumped, and -with head lowered down and wedged between my shoulder joints, I lunged -forward at Gahey, only to recoil from an upward sweep of his fist, which -sent all sorts of dancing lights into my eyes. My mouth filled with -blood and a red madness of anger came over me. I was conscious no more -of pain, or of the reason for the fight. All that I now wanted was to -overcome the man who stood in front of me. I heard my opponent laugh, -but I could not see him; he struck out at me again and I stumbled once -more to the ground.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>"Flynn! Dermod Flynn!" shouted Joe, and there was a world of reproach -in his voice.</p> - -<p>Again I stood up, and the blindness had gone from my eyes. My abdomen -heaved frankly, and I gulped down mighty mouthfuls of air. Gahey stood -before me laughing easily. My whole mind was centred on the next move of -the contest; but in some subconscious way I took in every detail of the -surroundings. The gamblers stood about in clusters, and one of them -carried the pack of cards in his hand, the front of it facing me, and I -could see the seven of clubs on top of the pack. Joe was looking tensely -at me, his lips wide apart and his tobacco-stained teeth showing -between. Behind him, and a little distance off, the rest of the crowd, -shouldered together, stood watching; and behind and above the circle of -dirty faces the ring of cabins spread outwards under the shadow of the -hair-poised derricks and firmly-set hills.</p> - -<p>A vicious jab from Gahey slipped along the arm with which I parried it. -I hit with my left, and the soft of my enemy's throat jellied inwards -under the stroke. I followed up with two blows to the chest and one to -the face. A stream of blood squirted from Gahey's jowl as my fist took -it; and this filled me with new hopes of victory. Joe had drawn very -little blood from the man, but then, though faster than my mate on my -feet, I was not gifted with his staying power.</p> - -<p>Behind me Moleskin clapped his hands excitedly, and urged me afresh with -hearty words of cheer.</p> - -<p>"Burst him up!" he yelled.</p> - -<p>"Sure," I answered. My anger had subsided, and a feeling of confidence -had taken its place.</p> - -<p>"Will ye, be God!" cried Gahey, and he rushed at me like a mad wind, -landing his brown hard fists repeatedly on my face and chest, and -receiving no chastisement in return.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>"I'll burst yer ear!" he cried, and did so, smashing the lobe with one -of his lightning blows. The blood from the wound fell on my shoulders -for the rest of the fight. Another blow, a light one on the stomach, -sickened me slightly, and my confidence began to ooze away from me. It -went completely when I endeavoured to trip my opponent, and got tripped -myself instead. My head took the ground, and I felt a little groggy when -I regained my feet; but in rising I got in a sharp jab to Gahey's nose -and drew blood again.</p> - -<p>The battle sobered down a little. Both of us circled around, looking for -an opening. Suddenly I drove forward with my right, passed Gahey's -guard, and with a well-directed blow on the chest, I lifted him neatly -off his feet, and left him sitting on the ground. Rising, he rushed at -me furiously, caught me by the legs, raised, and tried to throw me over -his shoulders.</p> - -<p>Then the fight turned in my favour. I had once on my wanderings met a -man who had been a wrestler, and he taught me certain tricks of his art. -I had a good opening before me now for one of them. Gahey had hold of me -by the knees, and both his arms were twined tightly around my joints. I -stooped over him, gripped him around the waist, and threw myself -backwards flat to the ground. As I reached the earth I let Gahey go, and -flying clean across my head, he slid along the rough ground on his naked -back. When he regained his feet I was up and ready for him, and I -knocked him down again with a good blow delivered on the fleshy part, -where the lower ribs fork inward to the breast-bone. That settled him -for good. The crowd cheered enthusiastically and went back to their -cards. One or two stopped with Gahey, and it took him half an hour to -recover. When he was well again Moleskin and I escorted him back to the -shack.</p> - -<p>We washed our wounds together and talked of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>everything but the fights -which had just taken place. The result of the quarrels seemed to have -had no effect on the men, but my heart was jumping out of my mouth with -pleasure. I had beaten one of the great fighters of Kinlochleven; I, a -boy of nineteen, who had never shaved yet, had knocked Gahey to the -ground with a good hard punch, and Gahey was a man twice my age and one -who was victor in a thousand battles. Excitement seized hold of me, my -step became alert, and I walked into the shack with the devil-may-care -swagger of a fighting man. The gamblers were sitting at the table and -the bright glitter of silver caught my eye. Big Jim Maloney was banker.</p> - -<p>"Come here, ye fightin' men," he cried; "and take a hand at another -game."</p> - -<p>The excitement was on me. In my pocket I had three shillings sub., and I -put it down on the board, the whole amount, as befitted a fighting man. -I won once, twice, three times. I called for drinks for the school. I -put Maloney out of the bank, I backed any money, and all the time I won. -The word passed round that Flynn was playing a big game; he would back -any money. More and more men came in from the other shacks and remained. -I could hear the clink of bottles all round me. The men were drinking, -smoking, and swearing, and those who could not get near the table betted -on the result of the game.</p> - -<p>My luck continued. The pile of silver beside me grew and grew, and stray -pieces of gold found their way into the pile as well. Every turn-up was -an ace or court-card. My luck was unheard of; and all around me -Kinlochleven stood agape, and played blindly, as if fascinated. Gain was -nothing to me, the game meant all. I called for further drinks; I drank -myself, although I was already drunk with excitement. I had forgotten -all about the good resolutions made on the doorstep of Kinlochleven but -what did it matter? Let my environment mould me,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> let Nature follow out -its own course, she knows what is best. I was now living large; the game -held me captive, and the pile of glistening silver grew in size.</p> - -<p>A man beside made some objection to my turn-up. He was one of the -fiercest men in the shack, and he was known as a fighter of merit. I -looked him between the eyes for a minute and he flinched before my gaze.</p> - -<p>"I'll thrash you till you roar for mercy!" I called at him and he became -silent.</p> - -<p>The drink went to my head and the cards turned up began to play strange -antics before my eyes. The knaves and queens ran together, they waltzed -over the place, and the lesser cards would persist in eluding my hand -when it went out to grip them. I was terribly drunk, the whisky and the -excitement were overpowering me.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to stop, mateys," I said, and I caught a handful of gold and -silver and put it into my pocket, then staggered to my feet. A cry of -indignation and contempt arose. "I was not going to allow any of them to -overtake their luck; I was not a man; I was a mere rogue." I was well -aware of the fact that a winner is always honour bound to be the last to -leave the table.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to play no more," I said bluntly.</p> - -<p>The crowd burst into a torrent of abuse. My legs were faltering under -me, and I wanted to get into bed. I would go to bed, but how? The -players might not allow it; they wanted their money. Then I would give -it to them. I put my hand in my pocket, pulled out the cash, and flung -it amongst the crowd of players. There was a hurried scramble all round -me, and the men groped in the muck and dirt for the stray coins. I got -into bed with my clothes on and fell asleep. In a vague sort of way I -heard the gamblers talk about my wonderful luck, and some of them -quarrelled about the money lifted from the floor. When morning came I -was still lying, fully-dressed, over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> blankets on the centre of the -bed, while Joe and Gahey were under the blankets on each side of me.</p> - -<p>I still had two half-sovereigns in my pocket along with a certain amount -of smaller cash, and these coins reminded me of my game. But I did not -treasure them so much as the long scar stretching across my cheek, and -the disfigured eye, which were tokens of the fight in which I thrashed -Hell-fire Gahey. All that day I lived the fight over and over again, and -the victory caused me to place great confidence in myself. From that day -forward I affected a certain indifference towards other fights, thus -pretending that I considered myself to be above such petty scrapes.</p> - -<p>By instinct I am a fighter. I never shirk a fight, and the most violent -contest is a tonic to my soul. Sometimes when in a thoughtful mood I -said to myself that fighting was the pastime of a brute or a savage. I -said that because it is fashionable for the majority of people, -spineless and timid as they are, to say the same. But fighting is not -the pastime of a brute; it is the stern reality of a brute's life. Only -by fighting will the fittest survive. But to man, a physical contest is -a pastime and a joy. I love to see a fight with the bare fists, the -combatants stripped naked to the buff, the long arms stretching out, the -hard knuckles showing white under the brown skin of the fists, the -muscles sliding and slipping like live eels under the flesh, the steady -and quick glance of the eye, the soft thud of fist on flesh, the sharp -snap of a blow on the jaw, and the final scene where one man drops to -the ground while the other, bathed in blood and sweat, smiles in -acknowledgment of the congratulations on the victory obtained.</p> - -<p>Gambling was another manner of fighting, and brim full of excitement. In -it no man knew his strength until he paid for it, and there was -excitement in waiting for the turn-up. Night after night I sat down to -the cards, sometimes out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> in the open and sometimes by the deal plank on -the floor of Red Billy's shack. Gambling was rife and unchecked. All -night long the navvies played banker and brag; and those who worked on -the night-shift took up the game that the day labourers left off. One -Sunday evening alone I saw two hundred and fifty banker schools gathered -in a sheltered hollow of the hills. That Sunday I remembered very well, -for I happened to win seven pounds at a single sitting, which lasted -from seven o'clock on a Saturday evening until half-past six on the -Monday morning. I finished the game, went out to my work, and did ten -hours' shift, although I was half asleep on the drill handle for the -best part of the time.</p> - -<p>One day a man, a new arrival, came to me and proposed a certain plan -whereby he and I could make a fortune at the gambling school. It was a -kind of swindle, and I do not believe in robbing workers, being neither -a thief nor a capitalist. I lifted the man up in my arms and took him -into the shack, where I disclosed his little plan to the inmates. A -shack some distance off was owned by a Belfast man named Ramsay, and -several Orangemen dwelt in this shack. Moleskin proposed that we should -strip the swindler to the pelt, paint him green, and send him to -Ramsay's shack. Despite the man's entreaties, we painted him a glorious -green, and when the night came on we took him under cover of the -darkness to Ramsay's shack, and tied him to the door. In the morning we -found him, painted orange, outside of ours, and almost dead with cold. -We gave him his clothes and a few kicks, and chased him from the place.</p> - -<p>I intended, when I came to Kinlochleven, to earn money and send it home -to my own people, and the intention was nursed in good earnest until I -lifted my first day's pay. Then Moleskin requested the loan of my spare -cash, and I could not refuse him, a pal who shared his very last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> crumb -of bread with me time and again. On the second evening the gamble -followed the fight as a matter of course; and on the third evening and -every evening after I played—because I was a gambler by nature. My luck -was not the best; I lost most of my wages at the card-table, and the -rest went on drink. I know not whether drink and gambling are evils. I -only know that they cheered many hours of my life, and caused me to -forget the miseries of being. If drunkenness was a vice, I humoured it -as a man might humour sickness or any other evil. But drink might have -killed me, one will say. And sickness might have killed me, I answer. -When a man is dead he knows neither hunger nor cold; he suffers neither -from the cold of the night nor the craving of the belly. The philosophy -is crude, but comforting, and it was mine. To gamble and drink was part -of my nature, and for nature I offer no excuses. She knows what is best.</p> - -<p>I could not save money, I hated to carry it about; it burned a hole in -my pocket and slipped out. I was no slave to it; I detested it. How -different now were my thoughts from those which buoyed up my spirit on -first entering Kinlochleven! those illusions, like previous others, had -been dispelled before the hard wind of reality. I looked on life -nakedly, and henceforth I determined to shape my own future in such a -way that neither I, nor wife, nor child, should repent of it. Although -passion ran riot in my blood, as it does in the blood of youth, I -resolved never to marry and bring children into the world to beg and -starve and steal as I myself had done. I saw life as it was, saw it -clearly, standing out stark from its covering of illusions. I looked on -love cynically, unblinded by the fumes off the midden-heap of lust, and -my life lacked the phantom happiness of men who see things as they are -not.</p> - -<p>The great proportion of the navvies live very pure lives, and women play -little or no part in their existence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> The women of the street seldom -come near a model, even when the navvies come in from some completed job -with money enough and to spare. The purity of their lives is remarkable -when it is considered that they seldom marry. "We cannot bring children -into the world to suffer like ourselves," most of them say. That is one -reason why they remain single. Therefore the navvy is seldom the son of -a navvy; it is the impoverished and the passionate who breed men like -us, and throw us adrift upon the world to wear out our miserable lives.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">DE PROFUNDIS</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I've got kitchen for my grub out of the mustard-pot of sorrow."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s18"> </span>—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe</span>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>At that time there were thousands of navvies working at Kinlochleven -waterworks. We spoke of waterworks, but only the contractors knew what -the work was intended for. We did not know, and we did not care. We -never asked questions concerning the ultimate issue of our labours, and -we were not supposed to ask questions. If a man throws red muck over a -wall to-day and throws it back again to-morrow, what the devil is it to -him if he keeps throwing that same muck over the wall for the rest of -his life, knowing not why nor wherefore, provided he gets paid sixpence -an hour for his labour? There were so many tons of earth to be lifted -and thrown somewhere else; we lifted them and threw them somewhere else: -so many cubic yards of iron-hard rocks to be blasted and carried away; -we blasted and carried them away, but never asked questions and never -knew what results we were labouring to bring about. We turned the -Highlands into a cinder-heap, and were as wise at the beginning as at -the end of the task. Only when we completed the job, and returned to the -town, did we learn from the newspapers that we had been employed on the -construction of the biggest aluminium factory in the kingdom. All that -we knew was that we had gutted whole mountains and hills in the -operations.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>We toiled on the face of the mountain, and our provisions came up on -wires that stretched from the summit to the depths of the valley below. -Hampers of bread, casks of beer, barrels of tinned meat and all manner -of parcels followed one another up through the air day and night in -endless procession, and looked for all the world like great gawky birds -which still managed to fly, though deprived of their wings.</p> - -<p>The postman came up amongst us from somewhere every day, bringing -letters from Ireland, and he was always accompanied by two policemen -armed with batons and revolvers. The greenhorns from Ireland wrote home -and received letters now and again, but the rest of us had no friends, -or if we had we never wrote to them.</p> - -<p>Over an area of two square miles thousands of men laboured, some on the -day-shift, some on the night-shift, some engaged on blasting operations, -some wheeling muck, and others building dams and hewing rock facings. A -sort of rude order prevailed, but apart from the two policemen who -accompanied the letter-carrier on his daily rounds no other minion of -the law ever came near the place. This allowed the physically strong man -to exert considerable influence, and fistic arguments were constantly in -progress.</p> - -<p>Sometimes a stray clergyman, ornamented with a stainless white collar, -had the impudence to visit us and tell us what we should do. These -visitors were most amusing, and we enjoyed their exhortations -exceedingly. Once I told one of them that if he was more in keeping with -the Workman whom he represented, some of the navvies stupider than -myself might endure his presence, but that no one took any heed of the -apprentice who dressed better than his Divine Master. We usually chased -these faddists away, and as they seldom had courage equal to their -impudence, they never came near us again.</p> - -<p>There was a graveyard in the place, and a few went there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> from the last -shift with the red muck still on their trousers, and their long unshaven -beards still on their faces. Maybe they died under a fallen rock or -broken derrick jib. Once dead they were buried, and there was an end of -them.</p> - -<p>Most of the men lifted their sub. every second day, and the amount left -over after procuring food was spent in the whisky store or -gambling-school. Drunkenness enjoyed open freedom in Kinlochleven. I saw -a man stark naked, lying dead drunk for hours on a filthy muck-pile. No -one was shocked, no one was amused, and somebody stole the man's -clothes. When he became sober he walked around the place clad in a -blanket until he procured a pair of trousers from some considerate -companion.</p> - -<p>I never stole from a mate in Kinlochleven, for it gave me no pleasure to -thieve from those who were as poor as myself; but several of my mates -had no compunction in relieving me of my necessaries. My three and -sixpenny keyless watch was taken from my breast pocket one night when I -was asleep, and my only belt disappeared mysteriously a week later. No -man in the place save Moleskin Joe ever wore braces. I had only one -shirt in my possession, but there were many people in the place who -never had a shirt on their backs. Sometimes when the weather was good I -washed my shirt, and I lost three, one after the other, when I hung them -out to dry. I did not mind that very much, knowing well that it only -passed to one of my mates, who maybe needed it more than I did. If I saw -one of my missing shirts afterwards I took it from the man who wore it, -and if he refused to give it to me, knocked him down and took it by -force. Afterwards we bore one another no ill-will. Stealing is rife in -shack, on road, and in model, but I have never known one of my kind to -have given up a mate to the police. That is one dishonourable crime -which no navvy will excuse.</p> - -<p>As the days went on, I became more careless of myself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> and I seldom -washed. I became like my mates, like Moleskin, who was so fit and -healthy, and who never washed from one year's end to another. Often in -his old tin-pot way he remarked that a man could often be better than -his surroundings, but never cleaner. "A dirty man's the only man who -washes," he often said. When we went to bed at night we hid our clothes -under the pillows, and sometimes they were gone in the morning. In the -bunk beneath ours slept an Irishman named Ward, and to prevent them -passing into the hands of thieves he wore all his clothes when under the -blankets. But nevertheless, his boots were unlaced and stolen one night -when he was asleep and drunk.</p> - -<p>One favourite amusement of ours was the looting of provisions as they -came up on the wires to the stores on the mountains. Day and night the -hampers of bread and casks of beer were passing over our heads suspended -in midair on the glistening metal strings. Sometimes the weighty barrels -and cases dragged the wires downwards until their burdens rested on the -shoulder of some uprising knoll. By night we sallied forth and looted -all the provisions on which we could lay our hands. We rifled barrels -and cases, took possession of bread, bacon, tea, and sugar, and filled -our stomachs cheaply for days afterwards. The tops of fallen casks we -staved in, and using our hands as cups drank of the contents until we -could hold no more. Sometimes men were sent out to watch the hillocks -and see that no one looted the grub and drink. These men were paid -double for their work. They deserved double pay, for of their own accord -they tilted the barrels and cases from their rests and kept them under -their charge until we arrived. Then they helped us to dispose of the -contents. Usually the watcher lay dead drunk beside his post in the -morning. Of course he got his double pay.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">A LITTLE TRAGEDY</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The sweat was wet on his steaming loins and shoulders bent and scarred,</div> -<div>And he dropped to earth like a spavined mule that's struck in the knacker's yard.</div> -<div>Bury him deep in the red, red muck, and pile the clay on his breast,</div> -<div>For all that he needs for his years of toil are years of unbroken rest."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—<i>From the song that follows.</i></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Talking of thieving puts me in mind of the tragedy of English Bill. Bill -was a noted thief. He would have robbed his mother's corpse, it was -said. There were three sayings in Kinlochleven, and they were as follows:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Moleskin Joe would gamble on his father's tombstone.</div> -<div>English Bill would rob his mother of her winding-sheet.</div> -<div>Flynn would fight his own shadow and get the best of it.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The three of us were mates, and we were engaged on a special job, -blasting a rock facing, in the corner of a secluded cutting. There was -very little room for movement, and we had to do the job all by -ourselves. One evening we set seven charges of dynamite in the holes -which we had drilled during the day, put the fuses alight, and hurried -off to a place of safety, and there waited until the explosion was over. -While the thunder of the riven earth was still in our ears the ganger -blew his whistle, the signal to cease work and return to our shacks.</p> - -<p>Next morning Bill reappeared wearing a strong <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>heavily-soled pair of new -bluchers which he had purchased on the evening previously.</p> - -<p>"They're a good pair of understandings, Bill," I said, as I examined my -mate's boots with a feeling of envy.</p> - -<p>"A damned good pair!" said Moleskin ruefully, looking at his own bare -toes peeping through the ragged leather of his emaciated uppers.</p> - -<p>Bill's face glowed with pride as he lifted his pick and proceeded to -clean out the refuse from the rock face. Bill was always in a hurry to -start work, and Joe often prophesied that the man would come to a bad -end. On this morning Joe was in a bad temper, for he had drunk too well -the night before.</p> - -<p>"Stow it, you fool," he growled at Bill. "You're a damned hasher, and no -ganger within miles of you!"</p> - -<p>Bill made no reply, but lifted his pick and drove it into the rock which -we had blasted on the day before. As he struck the ground there was a -deadly roar; the pick whirled round, sprung upwards, twirled in the air -like a wind-swept straw, and entered Bill's throat just a finger's -breadth below the Adam's apple. One of the dynamite charges had failed -to explode on the previous day, and Bill had struck it with the point of -the pick, and with this tool which had earned him his livelihood for -many years sticking in his throat he stood for a moment swaying -unsteadily. He laughed awkwardly as if ashamed of what had happened, -then dropped silently to the ground. The pick slipped out, a red foam -bubbled on the man's lips for a second, and that was all.</p> - -<p>The sight unnerved us for a moment, but we quickly recovered. We had -looked on death many times, and our virgin terror was now almost lost.</p> - -<p>"He's no good here now," said Moleskin sadly. "We'll look for a -muck-barrow and wheel him down to the hut. Didn't I always say that he -would come to a bad end, him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> with his hurry and flurry and his frothy -get-about way?"</p> - -<p>"He saved us by his hurry, anyhow," I remarked.</p> - -<p>We turned the man over and straightened his limbs, then hurried off for -a muck-barrow. On coming back we discovered that some person had stolen -the man's boots.</p> - -<p>"They should have been taken by us before we left him," I said.</p> - -<p>"You're damned right," assented Joe.</p> - -<p>Several of the men gathered around, and together we wheeled poor Bill -down to the hut along the rickety barrow road. His face was white under -the coating of beard, and his poor naked feet looked very blue and cold. -All the workmen took off their caps and stood bareheaded until we passed -out of sight. No one knew whose turn would come next. When Bill was -buried I wrote, at the request of Moleskin Joe, a song on the tragedy. I -called the song "A Little Tragedy," and I read it to my mate as we sat -together in a quiet corner of the hut.</p> - -<p class="center">"A LITTLE TRAGEDY.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The sweat was wet on his steaming loins and shoulders bent and scarred,</div> -<div>And he dropped to earth like a spavined mule that's struck in the knacker's yard.</div> -<div>Bury him deep in the red, red muck, and pile the clay on his breast,</div> -<div>For all that he needs for his years of toil are years of unbroken rest.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"And who has mothered this kinless one? Why should we want to know</div> -<div>As we hide his face from the eyes of men and his flesh from the hooded crow?</div> -<div>Had he a sweetheart to wait for him, with a kiss for his toil-worn face?</div> -<div>It doesn't matter, for here or there another can fill his place.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Is there a prayer to be prayed for him? Or is there a bell to toll?</div> -<div>We'll do the best for the body that's dead, and God can deal with the soul.</div> -<div>We'll bury him decently out of sight, and he who can may pray.</div> -<div>For maybe our turn will come to-morrow though his has come to-day.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>"And maybe Bill had hopes of his own and a sort of vague desire</div> -<div>For a pure woman to share his home and sit beside his fire;</div> -<div>Joys like these he has maybe desired, but living and dying wild,</div> -<div>He has never known of a maiden's love nor felt the kiss of a child.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"In life he was worth some shillings a day when there was work to do,</div> -<div>In death he is worth a share of the clay which in life he laboured through;</div> -<div>Wipe the spume from his pallid lips, and quietly cross his hands,</div> -<div>And leave him alone with the Mother Earth and the Master who understands."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>My mate seemed very much impressed by the poem, and remained silent for -a long while after I had finished reading it from the dirty scrap of -tea-paper on which it was written.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever cared a lot for some one girl, Flynn?" he asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>"No," I answered, for I had never disclosed my little love affair to any -man.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever cared a lot for one girl, Flynn?" repeated Joe.</p> - -<p>"I have cared—once," I replied, and, obeying the impulse of the moment, -I told Joe the story. He looked grave when I had finished.</p> - -<p>"They're all the same," he said; "all the same. I cared for a wench -myself one time and I intended to marry her."</p> - -<p>I looked at my mate's unshaven face, his dirty clothes, and I laughed -outright.</p> - -<p>"I'm nothin' great in the beauty line," went on Moleskin as if divining -my thoughts; "but when I washed myself years ago I was pretty passable. -She was a fine girl, mine, and I thought that she was decent and -aboveboard. It cost me money and time to find out what she was, and in -the end I found that she was the mother of two kids, and the lawful wife -of no man. It was a great slap in the face for me, Flynn."</p> - -<p>"It must have been," was all that I could say.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"By God! it was," Moleskin replied. "I tried to drink my regret away, -but I never could manage it. Have you ever wrote a love song?"</p> - -<p>"I've written one," I said.</p> - -<p>"Will you say it to me?" asked Joe.</p> - -<p>I had written a love song long before, and knew it by heart, for it was -a song which I liked very much. I recited it to my mate, speaking in -half-whispers so that the gamblers at the far end of the shack could not -hear me.</p> - -<p class="center">"A LOVE SONG</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Greater by far than all that men know, or all that men see is this—</div> -<div>The lingering clasp of a maiden's hand and the warmth of her virgin kiss,</div> -<div>The tresses that cover the pure white brow in many a clustering curl,</div> -<div>And the deep look of honest love in the grey eyes of a girl.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Because of that I am stronger than death and life is barren no more,</div> -<div>For otherwise wrongs that I hardly feel would sink to the heart's deep core,</div> -<div>For otherwise hope were utterly lost in the endless paths of wrong—</div> -<div>But only to look in her soft grey eyes—I am strong, I am strong!</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Does she love as I love? I do not know, but all that I know is this—</div> -<div>'Tis enough to stay for an hour at her side and dream awhile of her kiss,</div> -<div>'Tis enough to clasp the hands of her, and 'neath the shade of her hair</div> -<div>To press my lips on her lily brow and leave my kisses there.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"In the dreary days on the vagrant ways whereon my feet have trod</div> -<div>She came as a star to cheer my way, a guiding star from God,</div> -<div>She came from the dreamy choirs of heaven, lovely and wondrous wise,</div> -<div>And I follow the path that is lighted up by her eyes, her eyes."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"I don't like that song, because I don't know what it is about," said -Moleskin when I had finished. "The one about English Bill is far and -away better. When you talk about a man that drops like a spavined mule -in the knacker's yard, I know what you mean, but a girl that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> comes from -the dreamy choirs of heaven, wherever they are, is not the kind of wench -for a man like you and me, Flynn."</p> - -<p>I felt a little disappointed, and made no reply to the criticism of my mate.</p> - -<p>"Do you ever think how nice it would be to have a home of your own?" -asked Moleskin after a long silence, and a vigorous puffing at the pipe -which he held between his teeth. "It would be fine to have a room to sit -in and a nice fire to warm your shins at of an evenin'. I often think -how roarin' it would be to sit in a parlour and drink tea with a wife, -and have a little child to kiss me as you talk about in the song on the -death of English Bill."</p> - -<p>I did not like to hear my big-boned, reckless mate talk in such a way. -Such talk was too delicate and sentimental for a man like him.</p> - -<p>"You're a fool, Joe," I said.</p> - -<p>"I suppose I am," he answered. "But just you wait till you come near the -turn of life like me, and find a sort of stiffness grippin' on your -bones, then you'll maybe have thoughts kind of like these. A young -fellow, cully, mayn't care a damn if he is on the dead end, but by God! -it is a different story when you are as stiff as a frozen poker with one -foot in the grave and another in hell, Flynn."</p> - -<p>"It was a different story the day you met the ploughman, on our journey -from Greenock," I said. "You must have changed your mind, Moleskin?"</p> - -<p>"I said things to that ploughman that I didn't exactly believe myself," -said my mate. "I would do anything and say anything to get the best of -an argument."</p> - -<p>Many a strange conversation have I had with Moleskin Joe. One evening -when I was seated by the hot-plate engaged in patching my corduroy -trousers Joe came up to me with a question which suddenly occurred to -him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> I was held to be a sort of learned man, and everybody in the place -asked me my views upon this and that, and no one took any heed of my -opinions. Most of them acknowledged that I was nearly as great a poet as -Two-shift Mullholland, now decently married, and gone from the ranks of -the navvies.</p> - -<p>"Do you believe in God, Flynn?" was Joe's question.</p> - -<p>"I believe in a God of a sort," I answered. "I believe in the God who -plays with a man, as a man plays with a dog, who allows suffering and -misery and pain. The 'Holy-Willy' look on a psalm-singing parson's dial -is of no more account to Him than a blister on a beggar's foot."</p> - -<p>"I only asked you the question, just as a start-off to tellin' you my -own opinion," said Joe. "Sometimes I think one thing about God, and -sometimes I think another thing. The song that you wrote about English -Bill talks of God takin' care of the soul, and it just came into my head -to ask your opinion and tell you my own. As for myself, when I see a man -droppin' down like a haltered gin-horse at his work I don't hold much -with what parsons say about the goodness of Providence. At other times, -when I am tramping about in the lonely night, with the stars out above -me and the world kind of holding its breath as if it was afraid of -something, I do be thinking that there is a God after all. I'd rather -that there is none; for He is sure to have a heavy tally against me if -He puts down all the things I've done. But where is heaven if there is -such a place?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I replied.</p> - -<p>"If you think of it, there is no end to anything," Moleskin went on. "If -you could go up above the stars, there is surely a place above them, and -another place in turn above that again. You cannot think of a place -where there is nothing, and as far as I can see there is no end to -anything. You can't think of the last day as they talk about, for that -would mean the end of time. It's funny to think of a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> sayin' that -there'll be no time after such and such a time. How can time stop?"</p> - -<p>I tried to explain to Joe that time and space did not exist, that they -were illusions used for practical purposes.</p> - -<p>"No man can understand these things," said Joe, as I fumbled through my -explanation of the non-existence of time and space. "I have often looked -at the little brooks by the roadside and saw the water runnin', runnin', -always lookin' the same, and the water different always. When I looked -at the little brooks I often felt frightened, because I could not -understand them. All these things are the same, and no man can -understand them. Why does a brook keep runnin'? Why do the stars come -out at night? Is there a God in Heaven? Nobody knows, and a man may -puzzle about these things till he's black in the face and grey in the -head, but he'll never get any further."</p> - -<p>"English Bill may know more about these things than we do," I said.</p> - -<p>"How could a dead man know anything?" asked Joe, and when I could not -explain the riddle, he borrowed a shilling from me and lost it at the -gaming-table.</p> - -<p>That was Joe all over. One moment he was looking for God in Nature, and -on the next instant he was looking for a shilling to stake on the -gaming-table. Once in an argument with me he called the world "God's -gamblin' table," and endeavoured to prove that God threw down men, -reptiles, nations, and elements like dice to the earth, one full of -hatred for the other and each filled with a desire for supremacy, and -that God and His angels watched the great struggle down below, and -betted on the result of its ultimate issue.</p> - -<p>"Of course the angels will not back Kinlochleven very heavily," he concluded.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span> <span class="smaller">I WRITE FOR THE PAPERS</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'Awful Railway Disaster,'</div> -<div>The newspapers chronicle,</div> -<div>The men in the street are buying.</div> -<div>My! don't the papers sell.</div> -<div>And the editors say in their usual way,</div> -<div>'The story is going well.'"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s3"> </span>—From <i>Songs of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Day after day passed and the autumn was waning. The work went on, shift -after shift, and most of the money that I earned was spent on the -gambling table or in the whisky store. Now and again I wrote home, and -sent a few pounds to my people, but I never sent them my address. I did -not want to be upbraided for my negligence in sending them so little. -The answers to my letters would always be the same: "Send more money; -send more money. You'll never have a day's luck if you do not help your -parents!" I did not want answers like that, so I never sent my address.</p> - -<p>One night towards the end of October I had lost all my money at the -gambling school, although Moleskin had twice given me a stake to -retrieve my fallen fortunes. I left the shack, went out into the -darkness, a fire in my head and emptiness in my heart. Around me the -stark mountain peaks rose raggedly against the pale horns of the anæmic -moon. Outside the whisky store a crowd of men stood, dark looks on their -faces, and the wild blood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> of mischief behind. Inside each shack a dozen -or more gamblers sat cross-legged in circles on the ground, playing -banker or brag, and the clink of money could be heard as it passed from -hand to hand. Above them the naphtha lamps hissed and spluttered and -smelt, the dim, sickly light showed the unwashed and unshaven faces -beneath, and the eager eyes that sparkled brightly, seeing nothing but -the movements of the game. Down in the cuttings men were labouring on -the night-shift, gutting out the bowels of the mountain places, and -forcing their way through the fastness steadily, slowly and surely. I -could hear the dynamite exploding and shattering to pieces the rock in -which it was lodged. The panting of weary hammermen was loud in the -darkness, and the rude songs which enlivened the long hours of the night -floated up to me from the trough of the hills.</p> - -<p>I took my way over the slope of the mountain, over the pigmies who -wrought beneath, fighting the great fight which man has to wage -eternally against nature. Down in the cuttings I could see my mates -toiling amidst the broken earth, the sharp ledges of hewn rock, and the -network of gang-planks and straining derricks that rose all around them. -The red glare of a hundred evil-smelling torches flared dismally, and -over the sweltering men the dark smoke faded away into the rays of the -pallid moon. With the rising smoke was mingled the steam of the men's -bent shoulders and steaming loins.</p> - -<p>Above and over all, the mystery of the night and the desert places -hovered inscrutable and implacable. All around the ancient mountains sat -like brooding witches, dreaming on their own story of which they knew -neither the beginning nor the end. Naked to the four winds of heaven and -all the rains of the world, they had stood there for countless ages in -all their sinister strength, undefied and unconquered, until man, with -puny hands and little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> tools of labour, came to break the spirit of -their ancient mightiness.</p> - -<p>And we, the men who braved this task, were outcasts of the world. A -blind fate, a vast merciless mechanism, cut and shaped the fabric of our -existence. We were men flogged to the work which we had to do, and -hounded from the work which we had accomplished. We were men despised -when we were most useful, rejected when we were not needed, and -forgotten when our troubles weighed upon us heavily. We were the men -sent out to fight the spirit of the wastes, rob it of all its primeval -horrors, and batter down the barriers of its world-old defences. Where -we were working a new town would spring up some day; it was already -springing up, and then, if one of us walked there, "a man with no fixed -address," he would be taken up and tried as a loiterer and vagrant.</p> - -<p>Even as I thought of these things a shoulder of jagged rock fell into a -cutting far below. There was the sound of a scream in the distance, and -a song died away in the throat of some rude singer. Then out of the pit -I saw men, red with the muck of the deep earth and redder still with the -blood of a stricken mate, come forth, bearing between them a silent -figure. Another of the pioneers of civilisation had given up his life -for the sake of society.</p> - -<p>I returned to the shack, and, full of the horror of the tragedy, I wrote -an account of it on a scrap of tea-paper. I had no design, no purpose in -writing, but I felt compelled to scribble down the thoughts which -entered my mind. I wrote rapidly, but soon wearied of my work. I was -proceeding to tear up the manuscript when my eye fell on a newspaper -which had just come into the shack wrapped around a chunk of mouldy -beef. A thought came to me there and then. I would send my account of -the tragedy to the editor of that paper. It was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> <i>Dawn</i>, a London -halfpenny daily. I had never heard of it before.</p> - -<p>I had no envelope in my possession. I searched through the shack and -found one, dirty, torn, and disreputable in appearance. Amongst all -those men there was not another to be found. I did not rewrite my story. -Scrawled with pencil on dirty paper, and enclosed in a dirtier envelope, -I sent it off to Fleet Street and forgot all about it. But, strange to -say, in four days' time I received an answer from the editor of the -<i>Dawn</i>, asking me to send some more stories of the same kind, and saying -that he was prepared to pay me two guineas for each contribution -accepted.</p> - -<p>The acceptance of my story gave me no great delight; I often went into -greater enthusiasm over a fight in the Kinlochleven ring. But outside a -fight or a stiff game of cards, there are few things which cause me to -become excited. My success as a writer discomfited me a little even. I -at first felt that I was committing some sin against my mates. I was -working on a shift which they did not understand; and men look with -suspicion on things beyond their comprehension. A man may make money at -a fight, a gaming table or at a shift, but the man who made money with a -dirty pencil and a piece of dirty paper was an individual who had no -place in my mates' scheme of things.</p> - -<p>For all that, the editor's letter created great stir amongst my mates. -It passed round the shack and was so dirty on coming back that I -couldn't read a word of it. Red Billy said that he could not understand -it, and that I must have copied what I had written from some other -paper. Moleskin Joe said that I was the smartest man he had ever met, by -cripes! I was. He took great pleasure in calling me "that mate of mine" -ever afterwards. Old Sandy MacDonald, who had come from the Isle of -Skye, and who was wasting slowly away, said that he knew a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> young lad -like me who went from the Highlands to London and made his fortune by -writing for the papers.</p> - -<p>"He had no other wark but writin', and he made his fortune," Sandy -asserted, and everyone except myself laughed at this. It was such a -funny thing to hear old Sandy make his first joke, my mates thought. A -man to earn his living by writing for the papers! Whoever heard of such -a thing?</p> - -<p>In all I wrote five articles for the <i>Dawn</i>, then found that I could -write no more. I had told five truthful and exciting incidents of my -navvying life, and I was not clever enough to tell lies about it. Ten -guineas came to me from Fleet Street. Six of these I sent home to my own -people, and for the remainder I purchased many an hour's joy in the -whisky store and many a night's life-giving excitement at the gaming -table.</p> - -<p>I sent my address home with the letter, and when my mother replied she -was so full of her grievances that she had no time to enquire if I had -any of my own. Another child had been born, and the family in all now -consisted of thirteen.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX</span> <span class="smaller">WINTER</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Do you mind the nights we laboured, boys, together,</div> -<div>Spreadeagled at our travail on the joists,</div> -<div>With the pulley-wheels a-turning and the naphtha lamps a-burning,</div> -<div>And the mortar crawling upwards on the hoists,</div> -<div>When our hammers clanked like blazes on the facing,</div> -<div>When the trestles shook and staggered as we struck,</div> -<div>When the derricks on their pivots strained and broke the crank-wheel rivets</div> -<div>As the shattered jib sank heavy in the muck?"</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—From <i>Songs of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The winter was at hand. When the night drew near, a great weariness came -over the face of the sun as it sank down behind the hills which had seen -a million sunsets. The autumn had been mild and gentle, its breezes -soft, its showers light and cool. But now, slowly and surely, the great -change was taking place; a strange stillness settled softly on the -lonely places. Nature waited breathless on the threshold of some great -event, holding her hundred winds suspended in a fragile leash. The -heather bells hung motionless on their stems, the torrents dropped -silently as smoke from the scarred edges of the desolate ravines, but in -this silence there lay a menace; in its supreme poise was the threat of -coming danger. The crash of our hammers was an outrage, and the -exploding dynamite a sacrilege against tired nature.</p> - -<p>A great weariness settled over us; our life lacked colour, we were -afraid of the silence, the dulness of the surrounding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> mountains weighed -heavily on our souls. The sound of labour was a comfort, the thunder of -our hammers went up as a threat against the vague implacable portent of -the wild.</p> - -<p>Life to me had now become dull, expressionless, stupid. Only in drink -was there contentment, only in a fight was there excitement. I hated the -brown earth, the slushy muck and gritty rock, but in the end hatred died -out and I was almost left without passion or longing. My life now had no -happiness and no great sadness. My soul was proof against sorrow as it -was against joy. Happiness and woe were of no account; life was a spread -of brown muck, without any relieving splash of lighter or darker -colours. For all that, I had no great desire (desire was almost dead -even) to go down to the Lowlands and look for a newer job. So I stayed -amidst the brown muck and existed.</p> - -<p>When I had come up my thoughts for a long while were eternally straying -to Norah Ryan, but in the end she became to me little more than a -memory, a frail and delightful phantom of a fleeting dream.</p> - -<p>The coming of winter was welcome. The first nipping frost was a call to -battle, and, though half afraid, most of the men were willing to accept -the challenge. A few, it is true, went off to Glasgow, men old and -feeble who were afraid of the coming winter.</p> - -<p>In the fight to come the chances were against us. Rugged cabins with -unplanked floors, leaking roofs, flimsy walls, through the chinks of -which the winds cut like knives, meagre blankets, mouldy food, well-worn -clothes, and battered bluchers were all that we possessed to aid us in -the struggle. On the other hand, the winter marshalled all her forces, -the wind, the hail, frost, snow, and rain, and it was against these that -we had to fight, and for the coming of the opposing legions we waited -tensely and almost eagerly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>But the north played a wearing game, and strove to harry us out with -suspense before thundering down upon us with her cold and her storm. The -change took place slowly. In a day we could hardly feel it, in a week -something intangible and subtle, something which could not be defined, -had crept into our lives. We felt the change, but could not localise it. -Our spirits sank under the uncertainty of the waiting days, but still -the wild held her hand. The bells of the heather hung from their stems -languidly and motionless, stripped of all their summer charm, but -lacking little of the hue of summer. Even yet the foam-flecked waters -dropped over the cliffs silently as figures that move in a dream. When -we gathered together and ate our midday meal, we wrapped our coats -around our shoulders, whereas before we had sat down without them. When -night came on we drew nearer to the hot-plate, and when we turned naked -into bed we found that the blankets were colder than usual. Only thus -did the change affect us for a while. Then the cold snap came suddenly -and wildly.</p> - -<p>The plaintive sunset waned into a sickly haze one evening, and when the -night slipped upwards to the mountain peaks never a star came out into -the vastness of the high heavens. Next morning we had to thaw the door -of our shack out of the muck into which it was frozen during the night. -Outside the snow had fallen heavily on the ground, and the virgin -granaries of winter had been emptied on the face of the world.</p> - -<p>Unkempt, ragged, and dispirited, we slunk to our toil, the snow falling -on our shoulders and forcing its way insistently through our worn and -battered bluchers. The cuttings were full of slush to the brim, and we -had to grope through them with our hands until we found the jumpers and -hammers at the bottom. These we held under our coats until the heat of -our bodies warmed them, then we went on with our toil.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p><p>At intervals during the day the winds of the mountain put their heads -together and swept a whirlstorm of snow down upon us, wetting each man -to the pelt. Our tools froze until the hands that gripped them were -scarred as if by red-hot spits. We shook uncertain over our toil, our -sodden clothes scalding and itching the skin with every movement of the -swinging hammers. Near at hand the lean derrick jibs whirled on their -pivots like spectres of some ghoulish carnival, and the muck-barrows -crunched backwards and forwards, all their dirt and rust hidden in -woolly mantles of snow. Hither and thither the little black figures of -the workers moved across the waste of whiteness like shadows on a -lime-washed wall. Their breath steamed out on the air and disappeared in -space like the evanescent and fragile vapour of frying mushrooms.</p> - -<p>"On a day like this a man could hardly keep warm on the red-hot hearth -of hell!" Moleskin remarked at one time, when the snow whirled around -the cutting, causing us to gasp with every fiercely-taken breath.</p> - -<p>"Ye'll have a heat on the same hearthstone some day," answered Red -Billy, who held a broken lath in one mittened hand, while he whittled -away with his eternal clasp-knife.</p> - -<p>When night came on we crouched around the hot-plate and told stories of -bygone winters, when men dropped frozen stiff in the trenches where they -laboured. A few tried to gamble near the door, but the wind that cut -through the chinks of the walls chased them to the fire. Moleskin told -the story of his first meeting with me on the Paisley toll-road, and -suddenly I realised that I was growing old. It was now some years since -that meeting took place, and even then I was a man, unaided and alone, -fighting the great struggle of existence. I capped Moleskin's story with -the account of Mick Deehan's death on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> the six-foot way. Afterwards the -men talked loudly of many adventures. Long lonely shifts were spoken of, -nights and days when the sweat turned to ice on the eyelashes, when the -cold nipped to the bone and chilled the workers at their labours. One -man slipped off the snow-covered gang-plank and fell like a rock forty -feet through space.</p> - -<p>"Flattened out like a jelly-fish on the groun' he was," said Clancy, who -told the story.</p> - -<p>Red Billy, who worked on the railway line in his younger days, gave an -account of Mick Cassidy's death. Mick was sent out to free the -ice-locked facing points, and when they were closed by the signalman, -Cassidy's hand got wedged between the blades and the rail.</p> - -<p>"Held like a louse was Cassidy, until the train threw him clear," -concluded Billy, adding reflectively that "he might have been saved if -he had had somethin' in one hand to hack the other hand off with."</p> - -<p>Joe told how one Ned Farley got his legs wedged between the planks of a -mason's scaffold and hung there head downwards for three hours. When -Farley got relieved he was a raving madman, and died two hours -afterwards. We all agreed that death was the only way out in a case like -that.</p> - -<p>Gahey told of a night's doss at the bottom of a coal slip in a railway -siding. He slept there with three other people, two men and a woman. As -the woman was a bad one it did not matter very much to anyone where she -slept. During the night a waggon of coal was suddenly shot down the -slip. Gahey got clear, leaving his thumb with the three corpses which -remained behind.</p> - -<p>"It was a bad endin', even for a woman like that," someone said.</p> - -<p>Outside the winds of the night scampered madly, whistling through every -crevice of the shack and threatening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> to smash all its timbers to -pieces. We bent closer over the hot-plate, and the many who could not -draw near to the heat scrambled into bed and sought warmth under the -meagre blankets. Suddenly the lamp went out, and a darkness crept into -the corners of the dwelling, causing the figures of my mates to assume -fantastic shapes in the gloom. The circle around the hot-plate drew -closer, and long lean arms were stretched out towards the flames and the -redness. Seldom may a man have the chance to look on hands like those of -my mates. Fingers were missing from many, scraggy scars seaming along -the wrists or across the palms of others told of accidents which had -taken place on many precarious shifts. The faces near me were those of -ghouls worn out in some unholy midnight revel. Sunken eyes glared -balefully in the dim unearthly light of the fire, and as I looked at -them a moment's terror settled on my soul. For a second I lived in an -early age, and my mates were the cave-dwellers of an older world than -mine. In the darkness, near the door, a pipe glowed brightly for a -moment, then the light went suddenly out and the gloom settled again. -The reaction came when Two-shift Mullholland's song, <i>The Bold Navvy -Man</i>, was sung by Clancy of the Cross. We joined lustily in the chorus, -and the roof shook with the thunder of our voices.</p> - -<p class="center">"THE BOLD NAVVY MAN.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I've navvied here in Scotland, I've navvied in the south,</div> -<div>Without a drink to cheer me or a crust to cross me mouth,</div> -<div>I fed when I was workin' and starved when out on tramp,</div> -<div>And the stone has been me pillow and the moon above me lamp.</div> -<div>I have drunk me share and over when I was flush with tin,</div> -<div>For the drouth without was nothin' to the drouth that burned within!</div> -<div>And where'er I've filled me billy and where'er I've drained me can,</div> -<div>I've done it like a navvy, a bold navvy man.</div> -<div class="i8">A bold navvy man,</div> -<div class="i8">An old navvy man,</div> -<div>And I've done me graft and stuck it like a bold navvy man.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>"I've met a lot of women and I liked them all a spell—</div> -<div>They drive some men to drinkin' and also some to hell,</div> -<div>But I have never met her yet, the woman cute who can</div> -<div>Learn a trick to Old Nick or the bold navvy man.</div> -<div class="i8">Oh! the sly navvy man,</div> -<div class="i8">And the fly navvy man,</div> -<div>Sure a woman's always runnin' to the bold navvy man.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I do not care for ladies grand who are of high degree,</div> -<div>A winsome wench and willin', she is just the one for me,</div> -<div>Drink and love are classed as sins, as mortal sins by some,</div> -<div>I'll drink and drink whene'er I can, the drouth is sure to come—</div> -<div>And I will love till lusty life runs out its mortal span,</div> -<div>The end of which is in the ditch for many a navvy man.</div> -<div class="i8">The bold navvy man,</div> -<div class="i8">The old navvy man,</div> -<div>Safe in a ditch with heels cocked up, so dies the navvy man.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I've splashed a thousand models red and raised up fiery Cain</div> -<div>From Glasgow down to Dover Pier and back that road again;</div> -<div>I've fought me man for hours on end, stark naked to the buff</div> -<div>And me and him, we never knew when we had got enough.</div> -<div>'Twas skin and hair all flyin' round and red blood up and out,</div> -<div>And me or him could hardly tell what brought the fight about.—</div> -<div>'Tis wenches, work and fight and fun and drink whene'er I can</div> -<div>That makes the life of stress and strife as suits the navvy man!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"Let her go, boys; let her go now!" roared Clancy, rising to his feet, -kicking a stray frying-pan and causing it to clatter across the shack. -"All together, boys; damn you, all together!</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i8">"Then hurrah! ev'ry one</div> -<div class="i8">For the bold navvy man,</div> -<div>For fun and fight are damned all right for any navvy man!"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Even old Sandy MacDonald joined in the chorus with his weak and -querulous voice. The winter was touching him sharply, and he was worse -off than any of us. Along with the cold he had his wasting disease to -battle against, and God alone knew how he managed to work along with his -strong and lusty mates on the hammer squad at Kinlochleven. Sandy was -not an old man, but what with the dry cough that was in his throat and -the shivers of cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> that came over him after a long sweaty shift, it -was easily seen that he had not many months to live in this world. He -looked like a parcel of bones covered with brown withered parchment and -set in the form of a man. How life could remain fretting within such a -frame as his was a mystery which I could not solve. Almost beyond the -effects of heat or cold, the cold sweat came out of his skin on the -sweltering warm days, and when the winter came along, the chilly weather -hardly made him colder than he was by nature. His cough never kept -silent; sometimes it was like the bark of a dog, at other times it -seemed as if it would carry the very entrails out of the man. In the -summer he spat blood with it, but usually it was drier than the east -wind.</p> - -<p>At one period of his life Sandy had had a home and a wife away down in -Greenock; but in those days he was a strong lusty fellow, fit to pull -through a ten-hour shift without turning a hair. One winter's morning he -came out from the sugar refinery, in which he worked, steaming hot from -the long night's labour, and then the cold settled on him. Being a -sober, steady-going man, he tried to work as long as he could lift his -arms, but in the end he had to give up the job which meant life and home -to him. One by one his little bits of things went to the pawnshop; but -all the time he struggled along bravely, trying to keep the roof-tree -over his head and his door shut against the lean spectre of hunger. -Between the four bare walls of the house Sandy's wife died one day; and -this caused the man to break up his home.</p> - -<p>He came to Kinlochleven at the heel of the summer, and because he -mastered his cough for a moment when asking for a job, Red Billy Davis -started him on the jumper squad. The old ganger, despite his swearing -habits and bluntness of discourse, was at heart a very good-natured -fellow. Sandy stopped with us for a long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> while and it was pitiful to -see him labouring there, his old bones creaking with every move of his -emaciated body, and the cold sweat running off him all day. He ate very -little; the tame robin which flitted round our shack nearly picked as -much from off the floor. He had a bunk to himself at the corner of the -shack, and there he coughed out the long sleepless hours of the night, -bereft of all hope, lacking sympathy from any soul sib to himself, and -praying for the grave which would end all his troubles. For days at a -stretch he lay supine in his bed, unable to move hand or foot, then, -when a moment's relief came to him, he rose and started on his shift -again, crawling out with his mates like a wounded animal.</p> - -<p>Winter came along and Sandy got no better; he could hardly grow worse -and remain alive. Life burned in him like a dying candle in a ruined -house, and he waited for the end of the great martyrdom patiently. -Still, when he could, he kept working day in and day out, through cold -and wet and storm. Heaven knows that it was not work which he needed, -but care, rest, and sympathy. All of us expressed pity for the man, and -helped him in little ways, trying to make life easier for him. Moleskin -usually made gruel for him, while I read the <i>Oban Times</i> to the old -fellow whenever that paper came into the shack. One evening as I read -something concerning the Isle of Skye Sandy burst into tears, like a -homesick child.</p> - -<p>"Man! I would like tae dee there awa' in the Isle of Skye," he said to -me in a yearning voice.</p> - -<p>"Die, you damned old fool, you?" exclaimed Joe, who happened to come -around with a pot of gruel just at that moment and overheard Sandy's -remark. "You'll not die for years yet. I never saw you lookin' so well -in all your life."</p> - -<p>"It's all over with me, Moleskin," said poor Sandy. "It's a great wonder -that I've stood it so long, but just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> now the thocht came to me that I'd -like tae dee awa' back in my own place in the Isle of Skye. If I could -just save as muckle siller as would take me there, I'd be content -enough."</p> - -<p>"Some people are content with hellish little!" said Joe angrily. "You've -got to buck up, man, for there's a good time comin', though you'll -never—I mean that ev'rything will come right in the end. We'll see that -you get home all right, you fool, you!"</p> - -<p>Joe was ashamed to find himself guilty of any kind impulse, and he -endeavoured to hide his good intentions behind rough words. When he -called Sandy an old fool Sandy's eyes sparkled, and he got into such -good humour that he joined in the chorus of the <i>Bold Navvy Man</i> when -Clancy, who is now known as Clancy of the Cross, gave bellow to -Mullholland's <i>magnum opus</i>.</p> - -<p>Early on the morning of the next day, which was pay-day, Moleskin was -busy at work sounding the feelings of the party towards a great scheme -which he had in mind; and while waiting at the pay-office when the day's -work was completed, Joe made the following speech to Red Billy's gang, -all of whom, with the exception of Sandy MacDonald, were present.</p> - -<p>"Boys, Sandy MacDonald wants to go home and die in his own place," said -Joe, weltering into his subject at once. "He'll kick the bucket soon, -for he has the look of the grave in his eyes. He only wants as much tin -as will take him home, and that is not much for any man to ask, is it? -So what do you say, boys, to a collection for him, a shillin' a man, or -whatever you can spare? Maybe some day, when you turn respectable, one -of you can say to yourself, 'I once kept myself from gettin' drunk, by -givin' some of my money to a man who needed it more than myself.' Now, -just look at him comin' across there."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>We looked in the direction of Joe's outstretched finger and saw Sandy -coming towards us, his rags fluttering around him like the duds of a -Michaelmas scarecrow.</p> - -<p>"Isn't he a pitiful sight!" Moleskin went on. "He looks like the Angel -of Death out on the prowl! It's a God's charity to help a man like Sandy -and make him happy as we are ourselves. We are at home here; he is not. -So it is up to us to help him out of the place. Boys, listen to me!" -Moleskin's voice sank into an intense whisper. "If every damned man of -you don't pay a shillin' into this collection I'll look for the man that -doesn't, and I'll knuckle his ribs until he pays for booze for ev'ry man -in Billy's shack, by God! I will."</p> - -<p>Everyone paid up decently, and on behalf of the gang I was asked to -present the sum of three pounds fifteen shillings to Sandy MacDonald. -Sandy began to cry like a baby when he got the money into his hands, and -every man in the job called out involuntarily: "Oh! you old fool, you!"</p> - -<p>Pay-day was on Saturday. On Monday morning Sandy intended starting out -on his journey home. All Saturday night he coughed out the long hours of -the darkness, but in the morning he looked fit and well.</p> - -<p>"You'll come through it, you fool!" said Moleskin. "I'll be dead myself -afore you."</p> - -<p>On the next night he went to bed early, and as we sat around the gaming -table we did not hear the racking cough which had torn at the man's -chest for months.</p> - -<p>"He's getting better," we all said.</p> - -<p>"Feeling all right, Sandy?" I asked, as I turned into bed.</p> - -<p>"Mon! I'm feelin' fine now," he answered. "I'm goin' to sleep well -to-night, and I'll be fit for the journey in the morn."</p> - -<p>That night Sandy left us for good. When the morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> came we found the -poor wasted fellow lying dead in his bunk, his eyes wide open, his hands -closed tightly, and the long finger-nails cutting into the flesh of the -palm. The money which we gave to the man was bound up in a little -leathern purse tied round his neck with a piece of string.</p> - -<p>The man was very light and it was an easy job to carry him in the little -black box and place him in his home below the red earth of Kinlochleven. -The question as to what should be done with the money arose later. I -suggested that it should be used in buying a little cross for Sandy's -grave.</p> - -<p>"If the dead man wants a cross he can have one," said Moleskin Joe. And -because of what he said and because it was more to our liking, we put -the money up as a stake on the gaming table. Clancy won the pile, -because his luck was good on the night of the game.</p> - -<p>That is our reason for calling him Clancy of the Cross ever since.</p> - -<p>The winter rioted on its way. Snow, rain, and wind whirled around us in -the cutting, and wet us to the bone. It was a difficult feat to close -our hands tightly over the hammers with which we took uncertain aim at -the drill heads and jumper ends. The drill holder cowered on his seat -and feared for the moment when an erring hammer might fly clear and -finish his labours for ever. Hourly our tempers grew worse, each -movement of the body caused annoyance and discomfort, and we quarrelled -over the most trivial matters. Red Billy cursed every man in turn and -all in general, until big Jim Maloney lost his temper completely and -struck the ganger on the jaw with his fist, knocking him senseless into -a snowdrift.</p> - -<p>That night Maloney was handed his lying time and told to slide. He -padded from Kinlochleven in the darkness, and I have never seen him -since then. He must have died on the journey. No man could cross those -mountains<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> in the darkness of mid-winter and in the teeth of a -snowstorm.</p> - -<p>Some time afterwards the copy of a Glasgow newspaper, either the -<i>Evening Times</i> or <i>News</i> (I now forget which), came into our shack -wrapped around some provisions, and in the paper I read a paragraph -concerning the discovery of a dead body on the mountains of Argyllshire. -While looking after sheep a shepherd came on the corpse of a man that -lay rotting in a thawing snowdrift. Around the remains a large number of -half-burnt matches were picked up, and it was supposed that the poor -fellow had tried to keep himself warm by their feeble flames in the last -dreadful hours. Nobody identified him, but the paper stated that he was -presumably a navvy who lost his way on a journey to or from the big -waterworks of Kinlochleven.</p> - -<p>As for myself, I am quite certain that it was that of big Jim Maloney. -No man could survive a blizzard on the houseless hills, and big Jim -Maloney never appeared in model or shack afterwards.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXI</span> <span class="smaller">THE GREAT EXODUS</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"We'll lift our time and go, lads,</div> -<div class="i1">The long road lies before,</div> -<div>The places that we know, lads,</div> -<div class="i1">Will know our like no more.</div> -<div>Foot forth! the last bob's paid out,</div> -<div class="i1">Some see their last shift through.</div> -<div>But the men who are not played out</div> -<div class="i1">Have other jobs to do."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>Tramp Navvies</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>'Twas towards the close of a fine day on the following summer that we -were at work in the dead end of a cutting, Moleskin and I, when I, who -had been musing on the quickly passing years, turned to Moleskin and -quoted a line from the Bible.</p> - -<p>"Our years pass like a tale that is told," I said.</p> - -<p>"Like a tale that is told damned bad," answered my mate, picking stray -crumbs of tobacco from his waistcoat pocket and stuffing them into the -heel of his pipe. "It's a strange world, Flynn. Here to-day, gone -to-morrow; always waitin' for a good time comin' and knowin' that it -will never come. We work with one mate this evenin', we beg for crumbs -with another on the mornin' after. It's a bad life ours, and a poor one, -when I come to think of it, Flynn."</p> - -<p>"It is all that," I assented heartily.</p> - -<p>"Look at me!" said Joe, clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders. -"I must be close on forty years, maybe on the graveyard side of it, for -all I know. I've horsed it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> since ever I can mind; I've worked like a -mule for years, and what have I to show for it all to-day, matey? Not -the price of an ounce of tobacco! A midsummer scarecrow wouldn't wear -the duds that I've to wrap around my hide! A cockle-picker that has no -property only when the tide is out is as rich as I am. Not the price of -an ounce of tobacco! There is something wrong with men like us, surely, -when we're treated like swine in a sty for all the years of our life. -It's not so bad here, but it's in the big towns that a man can feel it -most. No person cares for the likes of us, Flynn. I've worked nearly -ev'rywhere; I've helped to build bridges, dams, houses, ay, and towns! -When they were finished, what happened? Was it for us—the men who did -the buildin'—to live in the homes that we built, or walk through the -streets that we laid down? No earthly chance of that! It was always, -'Slide! we don't need you any more,' and then a man like me, as helped -to build a thousand houses big as castles, was hellish glad to get the -shelter of a ten-acre field and a shut gate between me and the winds of -night. I've spent all my money, have I? It's bloomin' easy to spend all -that fellows like us can earn. When I was in London I saw a lady spend -as much on fur to decorate her carcase with as would keep me in beer and -tobacco for all the rest of my life. And that same lady would decorate a -dog in ribbons and fol-the-dols, and she wouldn't give me the smell of a -crust when I asked her for a mouthful of bread. What could you expect -from a woman who wears the furry hide of some animal round her neck, -anyhow? We are not thought as much of as dogs, Flynn. By God! them rich -buckos do eat an awful lot. Many a time I crept up to a window just to -see them gorgin' themselves."</p> - -<p>"I have often done the same kind of thing," I said.</p> - -<p>"Most men do," answered Joe. "You've heard of old Moses goin' up the -hill to have a bit peep at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> Promist Land. He was just like me and -you, Flynn, wantin' to have a peep at the things which he'd never lay -his claws on."</p> - -<p>"Those women who sit half-naked at the table have big appetites," I said.</p> - -<p>"They're all gab and guts, like young crows," said Moleskin. "And they -think more of their dogs than they do of men like me and you. I'm an Antichrist!"</p> - -<p>"A what?"</p> - -<p>"One of them sort of fellows as throws bombs at kings."</p> - -<p>"You mean an Anarchist."</p> - -<p>"Well, whatever they are, I'm one. What is the good of kings, of -fine-feathered ladies, of churches, of anything in the country, to men -like me and you? One time, 'twas when I started trampin' about, I met an -old man on the road and we mucked about, the two of us as mates, for -months afterwards. One night in the winter time, as we were sleepin' -under a hedge, the old fellow got sick, and he began to turn over and -over on his beddin' of frost and his blankets of snow, which was not the -best place to put a sick man, as you know yourself. As the night wore -on, he got worse and worse. I tried to do the best I could for the old -fellow, gave him my muffler and my coat, but the pains in his guts was -so much that I couldn't hardly prevent him from rollin' along the ground -on his stomach. He would do anythin' just to take his mind away from the -pain that he was sufferin'. At last I got him to rise and walk, and we -trudged along till we came to a house by the roadside. 'Twas nearly -midnight and there was a light in one of the windows, so I thought that -I would call at the door and ask for a bit of help. My mate, who bucked -up somewhat when we were walkin', got suddenly worse again, and fell -against the gatepost near beside the road, and stuck there as if glued -on to the thing. I left him by himself and went up to the door and -knocked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> A man drew the bolts and looked out at me. He had his collar -on back to front, so I knew that he was a clergyman.</p> - -<p>"'What do you want?' he asked.</p> - -<p>"'My mate's dyin' on your gatepost,' I said.</p> - -<p>"'Then you'd better take him away from here,' said the parson.</p> - -<p>"'But he wants help,' I said. 'He can't go a step further, and if you -could give me a drop of brandy——'</p> - -<p>"I didn't get any further with my story. The fellow whistled for his -dog, and a big black animal came boundin' through the passage and -started snarlin' when it saw me standin' there in the doorway.</p> - -<p>"'Now, you get away from here,' said the clergyman to me.</p> - -<p>"'My mate's dyin',' I said.</p> - -<p>"'Seize him,' said the man to the dog."</p> - -<p>"What a scoundrel that man must have been," I said, interrupting -Moleskin in the midst of his story.</p> - -<p>"He was only a human being, and that's about as bad as a man can be," -said Joe. "Anyway, he put the dog on me and the animal bounded straight -at the thick of my leg, but that animal didn't know that it was up -against Moleskin Joe. I caught hold of the dog by the throat and twisted -its throttle until it snapped like a dry stick. Then I lifted the dead -thing up in my arms and threw it right into the face of the man who was -standin' in the hallway.</p> - -<p>"'Take that an' be thankful that the worst dog of the two of you is not -dead,' I shouted. 'And when it comes to a time that sees you hangin' on -the lower cross-bars of the gates of heaven, waitin' till you get in, -may you be kept there till I give the word for you to pass through.'</p> - -<p>"My mate was still hangin' on the gatepost when I came back, and he was -as dead as a maggot. I could do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> nothin' for a dead man, so I went on my -own, leavin' him hangin' there like a dead crow in a turnip field. Next -mornin' a cop lifted me and I was charged with assaultin' a minister and -killin' his dog. I got three months hard, and it was hard to tell -whether for hittin' the man or killin' the dog. Anyway, the fellow got -free, although he allowed a man to die at his own doorstep. I never -liked clergy before, and I hate them ever since; but I know, as you -know, that it's not for the likes of you and me that they work for."</p> - -<p>"Time to stop lookin' at your work, boys!" interrupted Red Billy, as he -approached us, carrying his watch and eternal clasp-knife in his hands. -"Be damned to you, you could look at your work all day, you love it so -much. But when you go to the pay-office to-night, you'll hear a word or -two that will do you good, you will!"</p> - -<p>On arriving at the pay-office, every man in turn was handed his lying -time and told that his services were no longer required. Red Billy -passed the money out through the window of the shack which served as -money-box. Moleskin came after me, and he carefully counted the money -handed to him.</p> - -<p>"Half-a-crown wrong in your tally, old cock," he said to Red Billy. -"Fork out the extra two-and-a-tanner, you unsanctified, chicken-chested -cheat. I didn't think that it was in your carcase to cheat a man of his -lyin' time."</p> - -<p>"No cheatin'," said Billy.</p> - -<p>"Well, what the hell——!"</p> - -<p>"No cheatin'," interrupted Billy.</p> - -<p>"I'm two-and-a-tanner short——"</p> - -<p>"No cheatin'," piped Billy maliciously.</p> - -<p>"I'll burst your nut, you parrot-faced, gawky son of a Pontius Pilate, -if you don't fork out my full lyin' time!" roared Moleskin.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"I always charge two-and-six for a pair of boots and the same for a -clasp-knife," said the ganger.</p> - -<p>Billy had a long memory, and Joe was cornered and crestfallen. I, -myself, had almost forgotten about the knife which Joe had lifted from -Red Billy on the morning of our arrival in Kinlochleven, and Joe had -almost lost memory of it as well.</p> - -<p>"I had the best of that bargain," Red Billy went on sweetly. "The knife -was on its last legs and I just intended to buy a new one. A half-crown -was a good penny for a man like me to spend, so I thought that if -Moleskin paid for it, kind of quiet like, it would be a very nice thing -for me—a—very—nice—thing—for—me."</p> - -<p>"I grant that you have the best of me this time," said Moleskin, and a -smile passed over his face. "But my turn will come next, you know. I -wouldn't like to do you any serious harm, Billy, but I must get my own -back. I have only to look for that old woman of yours and send her after -you. I can get her address easy enough, and I have plenty of time to -look for it. You don't care much for your old wife, Billy, do you?"</p> - -<p>Billy made no answer. It was rumoured that his wife was a woman with a -tongue and a temper, and that Billy feared her and spent part of his -time in endeavouring to get out of her way. Joe was working upon this -rumour now, and the ganger began to look uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>"Of course, if I get my half-crown and another to boot, I'll not trouble -to look for the woman," said Joe. "It won't be hard to find her. She'll -have gone back to her own people, and it is well known that they belong -to Paisley. Her brothers are all fightin' men, and ready to maul the man -that didn't play fairly with their own blood relations. By God! they'll -give you a maulin', Billy, when I send them after you. They'll come up -here, and further until they find you out. You'll have to shank it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> when -they come, run like hell, in fact, and lose your job and your lyin' -time. If you give me seven-and-six I'll not give you away!"</p> - -<p>"I'll give you the half-crown," said Billy.</p> - -<p>"I'm losin' my time talkin' to you," said Joe pleasantly, and he pulled -out his watch. "Every minute I stop here I'm goin' to put my charge up a -shillin'."</p> - -<p>"I'll give you the five shillin's if you go away and keep clear of -Paisley," growled the ganger. "Five shillin's! you damned cheat! Are you -not content with that?"</p> - -<p>"One minute," said Joe solemnly. "Eight-and-six."</p> - -<p>"My God!" Billy cried. "You're goin' to rob me. I'll give you the -seven-and-six."</p> - -<p>We were heartily enjoying it. There were over one hundred men looking -on, and Joe, now master of the strained situation, kept looking -steadfastly at his watch, as if nothing else in the world mattered.</p> - -<p>"Two minutes; nine-and-six," he said at the end of the stated time.</p> - -<p>"Here's your nine-and-six!" roared Billy, passing some silver coins -through the grating. "Here, take it and be damned to you!"</p> - -<p>Joe put the money in his pocket, cast a benevolent glance at Billy, and -my mate and I went out from Kinlochleven. We did not go into the shack -which we had occupied for over a year. There was nothing there belonging -to us, all our property was on our backs or in our pockets, so we turned -away straight from the pay-office and took to the road again.</p> - -<p>The great procession filed down the hillside. Hundreds of men had been -paid off on the same evening. The job was nearly completed, and only a -few hands were required to finish the remainder of the labour. Some men -decided to stay, but a great longing took possession of them at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> the -last moment, and they followed those who were already on the road.</p> - -<p>Civilisation again! Away behind the hunchbacked mountains the sunset -flamed in all its colours. Islands of jasper were enshrined in lakes of -turquoise, rivers of blood flowed through far-spreading plains of dark -cumulus that were enshrouded in the spell of eternal silence. Overhead -the blue was of the deepest, save where one stray cloud blushed to find -itself alone in the vastness of the high heavens.</p> - -<p>We were an army of scarecrows, ragged, unkempt scare crows of -civilisation. We came down from Kinlochleven in the evening with the -glow of the setting sun full in our faces, and never have I looked on an -array of men such as we were. Some were old, lame men who might not live -until they obtained their next job, and who would surely drop at their -post when they obtained it. These were the veterans of labour, crawling -along limply in the rear, staggering over boulders and hillocks, men who -were wasted in the long struggle and who were now bound for a new -place—a place where a man might die. They had built their last town and -were no longer wanted there or anywhere else. Strong lusty fellows like -myself took the lead. We possessed hale and supple limbs, and a mile or -two of a journey meant very little to any of us.</p> - -<p>Now and again I looked behind at the followers. The great army spread -out in the centre and tailed away towards the end. A man at the rear sat -down and took a stone out of his boot. His comrades helped him to his -feet when he had finished his task. He was a very old, decrepit, and -weary man; the look of death was in his eyes, but he wanted to walk on. -Maybe he would sit down again at the foot of the mountain. Maybe he -would sleep there, for further down the night breezes were warmer, much -warmer, than the cold winds on the hillside. Probably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> the old fellow -thought of these things as he tumbled down the face of the mountain; and -perhaps he knew that death was waiting for him at the bottom.</p> - -<p>Some sang as they journeyed along. They sang about love, about drink, -about women and gambling. Most of us joined in the singing. Maybe the -man at the rear sang none, but we could not hear him if he did, he was -so far behind.</p> - -<p>The sun paled out and hid behind a hump of the mountain. Overhead a few -stars twinkled mockingly. In the distance the streams could be heard -falling over the cliffs. Still the mountain vomited out the human -throng, and over all the darkness of the night settled slowly.</p> - -<p>What did the men think of as they walked down from Kinlochleven? It is -hard to say, for the inmost thoughts of a most intimate friend are -hidden from us, for they lack expression and cannot be put into words. -As to myself, I found that my thoughts were running back to Norah Ryan -and the evenings we spent on the shores of the Clyde. I was looking -backward; I had no thoughts, no plans, for the future.</p> - -<p>I was now almost careless of life, indifferent towards fortune, and the -dreams of youth had given place to a placid acceptance of stern -realities. On the way up to the hills I had longed for things beyond my -reach—wealth, comfort, and the love of fair women. But these longings -had now given place to an almost unchanging calm, an indifference -towards women, and an almost stoical outlook on the things that are. -Nothing was to me pleasurable, nothing made me sad. During the last -months in Kinlochleven I had very little desire for drink or cards, but -true to custom I gave up neither. With no man except Moleskin did I -exchange confidences, and even these were of the very slightest. To the -rest of my mates I was always the same, except perhaps in the whisky -saloon or in a fight. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> thought me very strong in person and in -character, but when I pried deeply into my own nature I found that I was -full of vanity and weaknesses. The heat of a good fire after a hard -day's work caused me to feel happier; hunger made me sour, a good meal -made me cheerful. One day I was fit for any work; the next day I was -lazy and heedless, and at times I so little resembled myself that I -might be taken for a man of an entirely opposite character. Still, the -river cannot be expected to take on the same form in shine as in shadow, -in level as in steep, and in fall as in freshet. I am a creature of -environment, an environment that is eternally changing. Not being a -stone or clod, I change with it. I was a man of many humours, of many -inconsistencies. The pain of a corn changed my outlook on life. Moleskin -himself was sometimes disgusting in my sight; at other times I was only -happy in his company. But all the time I was the same in the eyes of my -mates, stolid, unsympathetic, and cold. In the end most of my moods -went, and although I had mapped out no course of conduct, I settled into -a temperate contentment, which, though far removed from gladness, had no -connection with melancholy.</p> - -<p>Since I came to Kinlochleven I had not looked on a woman, and the -thoughts of womankind had almost entirely gone from my mind. With the -rest of the men it was the same. The sexual instinct was almost dead in -them. Women were merely dreams of long ago; they were so long out of -sight that the desire for their company had almost expired in every man -of us. Still, it was strange that I should think of Norah Ryan as I -trudged down the hillside from Kinlochleven.</p> - -<p>The men were still singing out their songs, and Joe hummed the chorus -through the teeth that held his empty pipe as he walked along.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the sound of singing died and Moleskin ceased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> his bellowing -chorus. A great silence fell on the party. The nailed shoes rasping on -the hard earth, and the half-whispered curse of some falling man as he -tripped over a hidden boulder, were the only sounds that could be heard -in the darkness.</p> - -<p>And down the face of the mountain the ragged army tramped slowly on.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXII</span> <span class="smaller">A NEW JOB</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The more you do, the more you get to do."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—<i>Cold Clay Philosophy.</i></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When we arrived in Glasgow I parted company with Moleskin Joe. I told -him that I was going to work on the railway if I got an opening, but my -mate had no liking for a job where the pay could be only lifted once a -fortnight; he wanted his sub. every second day at least. He set out for -the town of Carlisle. There was a chance of getting a real job there, he -said.</p> - -<p>"Mind you, if there's a chance goin' for another man, I'll let you know -about it," he added. "I would like you to come and work along with me, -matey, for me and you get on well together. Keep clear of women and -always stand up to your man until he knocks you out—that's if you're -gettin' the worst of the fight."</p> - -<p>We parted without a handshake, as is the custom with us navvy men. He -never wrote to me, for I had no address when he left, and he did not -know the exact model to which he was going. Once out of each other's -sight, the link that bound us together was broken, and being homeless -men we could not correspond. Perhaps we would never meet again.</p> - -<p>I got a job on the railway and obtained lodgings in a dismal and crooked -street, which was a den of disfigured children and a hothouse of -precocious passion, in the south<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> side of Glasgow. The landlady was an -Irishwoman, bearded like a man, and the mother of several children. When -indoors, she spent most of her time feeding one child, while swearing -like a carter at all the others. We slept in the one room, mother, -children and myself, and all through the night the children yelled like -cats in the moonshine. The house was alive with vermin. The landlady's -husband was a sailor who went out on ships to foreign parts and always -returned drunk from his voyages. When at home he remained drunk all the -time, and when he left again he was as drunk as he could hold. I had no -easy job to put up with him at first, and in the end we quarrelled and -fought. He accused me of being too intimate with his wife when he was -away from home. I told him that my taste was not so utterly bad, for -indeed I had no inclination towards any woman, let alone the hairy and -unkempt person who was my landlady. I struck out for him on the stair -head. Three flights of stairs led from the door of the house down to the -ground floor. I threw the sailor down the last flight bodily and -headlong; he threw me down the middle flight. Following the last throw -he would not face up again, and I had won the fight. Afterwards the -woman came to her husband's aid. She scratched my face with her fingers -and tore at my hair, clawing like an angry cat. I did not like to strike -her back so I left her there with her drunken sailor and went out to the -streets. Having no money I slept until morning beside a capstan on -Glasgow quay. Next day I obtained lodgings in Moran's model, and I -stopped there until I went off to London eleven months afterwards.</p> - -<p>I did not find much pleasure in the company of my new railway mates. -They were a spineless and ignorant crowd of men, who believed in -clergycraft, psalm-singing, and hymn-hooting. Not one of them had the -pluck to raise his hands in a stand-up fight, or his voice in protest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -against the conditions under which he laboured. Most of them raised -their caps to the overseers who controlled their starved bodies and to -the clergy who controlled their starved souls. They had no rational -doctrine, no comprehension of a just God. To them God took on the form -of a monstrous and irritable ganger who might be pacified by prayers -instead of by the usual dole of drink.</p> - -<p>Martin Rudor was the name of my new ganger. He was very religious and -belonged to the Railway Mission (whatever that is). He read tracts at -his work, which he handed round when he finished perusing them. These -contained little stories about the engine-driver who had taken the wrong -turning, or the signalman who operated the facing points on the running -line leading to hell. Martin took great pleasure in these stories, and -he was an earnest supporter of the psalm-singing enthusiasts who raised -a sound of devilry by night in the back streets of Glasgow. Martin said -once that I was employed on the permanent way that led to perdition. I -caught Martin by the scruff of the neck and rubbed his face on the slag. -He never thought it proper to look out my faults afterwards. Martin -ill-treated his wife, and she left him in the end. But he did not mind; -he took one of his female co-religionists to his bosom and kept her in -place of his legal wife, and seemed quite well pleased with the change. -Meanwhile he sang hymns in the street whenever he got two friends to -help and one to listen to him.</p> - -<p>What a difference between these men and my devil-may-care comrades of -Kinlochleven. I looked on Martin Rudor and his gang with inexpressible -contempt, and their talk of religion was a source of almost unendurable -torment. I also looked upon the missions with disgust. It is a paradox -to pretend that the thing called Christianity was what the Carpenter of -Galilee lived and died to establish. The Church allows a criminal -commercial system to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>continue, and wastes its time trying to save the -souls of the victims of that system. Christianity preaches contentment -to the wage-slaves, and hob-nobs with the slave drivers; therefore, the -Church is a betrayer of the people. The Church soothes those who are -robbed and never condemns the robber, who is usually a pillar of -Christianity. To me the Church presents something unattainable, which, -being out of harmony with my spiritual condition, jars rather than -soothes. To me the industrial system is a great fraud, and the Church -which does not condemn it is unfaithful and unjust to the working -people. I detest missions, whether organised for the betterment of South -Sea Islanders or unshaven navvies. A missionary canvasses the working -classes for their souls just in the same manner as a town councillor -canvasses them for their votes.</p> - -<p>I have heard of workers' missions, railway missions, navvies' missions, -and missions to poor heathens, but I have never yet heard of missions -for the uplifting of M.P.'s, or for the betterment of stock exchange -gamblers; and these people need saving grace a great deal more than the -poor untutored working men. But it is in the nature of things that piety -should preach to poverty on its shortcomings, and forget that even -wealth may have sins of its own. Clergymen dine nowadays with the -gamblers who rob the working classes; Christ used the lash on the -gamblers in the Temple.</p> - -<p>I heard no more of Norah Ryan. I longed to see her, and spent hours -wandering through the streets, hoping that I would meet her once again. -The old passion had come back to me; the atmosphere of the town -rekindled my desire, and, being a lonely man, in the midst of many men -and women, my heart was filled with a great longing for my sweetheart. -But the weary months went by and still there was no sign of Norah.</p> - -<p>When writing home I made enquiries about her, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> my people said that -she had entirely disappeared; no Glenmornan man had seen Norah Ryan for -many years. My mother warned me to keep out of Norah's company if ever I -met her, for Norah was a bad woman. My mother was a Glenmornan woman, -and the Glenmornan women have no fellow-feeling for those who sin.</p> - -<p>Manual labour was now becoming irksome to me, and eight shillings a week -to myself at the end of six days' heavy labour was poor consolation for -the danger and worry of the long hours of toil. I did not care for -money, but I was afraid of meeting with an accident, when I might get -maimed and not killed. It would be an awful thing if a man like me got -deprived of the use of an arm or leg, and an accident might happen to me -any day. In the end I made up my mind that if I was to meet with an -accident I would take my own life, and henceforth I looked at the future -with stoical calm.</p> - -<p>I have said before that I am very strong. There was no man on the -railway line who could equal me at lifting rails or loading ballast -waggons. I had great ambitions to become a wrestler and go on the stage. -No workman on the permanent way could rival me in a test of strength. -Wrestling appealed to me, and I threw the stoutest of my opponents in -less than three minutes. I started to train seriously, bought books on -physical improvement, and spent twelve shillings and sixpence on a pair -of dumb-bells. During meal hours I persuaded my mates to wrestle with -me. Wet weather or dry, it did not matter! We went at it shoulder and -elbows in the muddy fields and alongside the railway track. We threw one -another across point-rods and signal bars until we bled and sweated at -our work. I usually took on two men at a time and never got beaten. For -whole long months I was a complete mass of bruises, my skin was torn -from my arms, my clothes were dragged to ribbons, and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> bones ached so -much that I could hardly sleep at night owing to the pain. I attended -contests in the music-halls, eager to learn tips from the professionals -who had acquired fame in the sporting world.</p> - -<p>The shunter of our ballast train was a heavy-shouldered man, and he had -a bad temper and an unhappy knack of lifting his fists to those who were -afraid of him. He was a strong rung of a man, and he boasted about the -number of fights in which he had taken part. He was also a lusty liar -and an irrepressible swearer. Nearly everyone in the job was afraid of -him, and to the tune of a wonderful vocabulary of unprintable words he -bullied all Martin Rudor's men into abject submission. But that was an -easy task. He felt certain that every man on the permanent way feared -him, and maybe that was why he called me an Irish cur one evening. We -were shovelling ashes from the ballast waggons on one line into the -four-foot way of the other, and the shunter stood on the foot-board of -the break-van two truck lengths away from me. I threw my shovel down, -stepped across the waggons, and taking hold of the fellow by the neck -and waist I pulled him over the rim of the vehicle and threw him -headlong down the railway slope. I broke his coupling pole over my knee, -and threw the pieces at his head. The breaking of the coupling pole -impressed the man very much. Few can break one over their knees. When -the shunter came to the top of the slope again, he was glad to apologise -to me, and thus save himself further abuse.</p> - -<p>That evening, when coming in from my work, I saw a printed announcement -stating that a well-known Japanese wrestler was offering ten pounds to -any man whom he could not overcome in less than five minutes in a -ju-jitsu contest. He was appearing in a hall on the south side of the -city, and he was well-known as an exponent of the athletic art.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>I went to the hall that evening, hoping to earn the ten pounds. The -shunter was four stone heavier than I was, yet I overcame him easily, -and the victory caused me to place great reliance on myself.</p> - -<p>I took a threepenny seat in the gallery, and waited breathless for the -coming of the wrestler. Several artists appeared, were applauded or -hissed, then went off the stage, but I took very little heed of their -performances. All my thoughts were centred on the pose which I would -assume when rising to accept the challenge.</p> - -<p>Sitting next to me was a fat foreigner, probably a seller of -fish-suppers or ice-cream. I wondered what he would think of me when he -saw me rise to my feet and accept the challenge. What would the girl who -sat on the other side of me think? She kept eating oranges all the -evening, and giggling loudly at every indecent joke made by the actors. -She was somewhat the worse for liquor, and her language was far from -choice. She was very pretty and knew it. A half-dressed woman sang a -song, every stanza of which ended with a lewd chorus. The girl beside me -joined in the song and clapped her hands boisterously when the artiste -left the stage.</p> - -<p>The wrestler was the star turn of the evening, and his exhibition was -numbered two on the programme. When the number went up my heart -fluttered madly, and I felt a great difficulty in drawing my breath.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose slowly. A man in evening dress, bearing a folded paper -in his hand, came out to the front of the stage. One of the audience -near me applauded with his hands.</p> - -<p>"That's nae a wrestler, you fool!" someone shouted. "You dinna ken what -you're clappin' about."</p> - -<p>"Silence!"</p> - -<p>The audience took up the word and all shouted silence, until the din was -deafening.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>"Ladies and gentlemen," began the figure on the stage, when the noise -abated.</p> - -<p>Everyone applauded again. Even the girl beside me blurted out "Hear! -hear!" through a mouthful of orange juice. Those who pay threepence for -their seats love to be called ladies and gentlemen.</p> - -<p>"Ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure in introducin' U—— Y——, -the well-known exponent of the art of ju-jitsu."</p> - -<p>A little dark man with very bright eyes stepped briskly on the stage, -and bowed to the audience, then folded his arms over his breast and -gazed into vacancy with an air of boredom. He wore a heavy overcoat -which lay open at the neck and exposed his chest muscles to the gaping -throng.</p> - -<p>"Everybody here has heard of U—— Y——, no doubt." The evening dress -was speaking again. "He is well known in America, in England, and on the -continent. At the present time he is the undefeated champion of his -weight in all the world. He is now prepared to hand over the sum of ten -pounds to any man in the audience who can stand against him for five -minutes. Is there any gentleman in the audience prepared to accept the -challenge?"</p> - -<p>"I could wrestle him mysel'," said the girl of the orange-scented breath -in a whisper. Apart from that there was silence.</p> - -<p>"Is any man in the audience prepared to accept the offer and earn the -sum of ten pounds?" repeated the man on the stage.</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>Somehow I had risen to my feet, and my words came out spasmodically. -Everyone in front turned round and stared at me. My seat-mate clapped -her hands, and the audience followed her example.</p> - -<p>There is no need to give an account of the contest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> Suffice to say that -I did not collar the ten-pound note, and that I had not the ghost of a -chance in the match. It only lasted for forty-seven seconds. The crowd -hissed me off the stage, and I got hurriedly into the street when I -regained my coat in the dressing-room. I went out into the night, sick -at heart, a defeated man, with another of my illusions dashed to pieces. -I took no interest in wrestling afterwards.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIII</span> <span class="smaller">A SWEETHEART OF MINE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"She learned the pitiful story, that they must suffer who live,</div> -<div>While selling her soul in the gutters for all that the gutters give."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s15"> </span>—From <i>Lost Souls</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There was a cold air running along the street when I stepped into the -open and took my way along the town to Moran's model where I lodged. I -felt disappointed, vexed, and ashamed of my ludicrous exhibition on the -stage. Forty-seven seconds! As I walked along I could hear the referee -repeating the words over and over again. Forty-seven seconds! I was both -angry and ashamed, angry at my own weakness, and ashamed of the -presumption which urged me to attack a professional athlete. I walked -quickly, trying to drive all memories of the night from my mind.</p> - -<p>The hour of midnight rang out, and the streets were almost deserted. -Here and there a few night-prowlers stole out from some gloomy alley and -hurried along, bent, no doubt, upon some fell mission which could only -be carried through under cover of the darkness. Once a belated drunken -man swayed in front of me, and asked for a match to light his pipe. I -had none to give him, and he cursed me as I passed on. I met a few women -on the streets, young girls whose cheeks were very red, and whose eyes -were very bright. This was the hour when these, our little sisters, -carry on the trade which means life to their bodies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> and death to their -souls. It is so easy to recognise them! Their eyes sparkle brightly in -the lamplight; they speak light and trivial words to the men whom they -meet, and ever they hold their skirts lifted well over their ankles so -that those whom they meet may know of the goods which they sell. The -sisters of the street barter their chastity for little pieces of silver, -and from them money can purchase the rightful heritage of love.</p> - -<p>These, like navvies, are outcasts and waifs of society. They are -despised by those who hide imperfections under the mask of decency, men -and women who are so conscious of their own shortcomings that they make -up for them by censuring those of others.</p> - -<p>White slavery is now the term used in denoting these girls' particular -kind of slavery. But, bad as it is, it is chosen by many women in -preference to the slavery of the mill and the needle. As I write this, -there are many noble ladies, famed for having founded several societies -for the suppression of evils that never existed, who believe that the -solution of the white slave problem can only be arrived at by flogging -men who live on the immoral earnings of women. This solution if extended -might meet the case. In all justice the lash should be laid on the backs -of the employers who pay starvation wages, and the masters who fatten on -sweated labour. The slavery of the shop and the mill is responsible for -the shame of the street.</p> - -<p>A girl came out from the shadow of a doorway, and walked along the -street in front of me, her head held down against the cutting breeze. -Sometimes she spoke words to the men who passed her, but all went on -unheeding. Only to those who were well-dressed and prosperous-looking -did she speak.</p> - -<p>I thought of my own sisters away home in Ireland, and here, but for the -grace of God, went one of them. At that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> moment I felt sick of life and -sorry for civilisation and all its sin.</p> - -<p>I detected something familiar in the figure of the woman before me. -Perhaps I had met the woman before. I overtook her, and when passing -looked at her closely.</p> - -<p>"Under God, the day and the night, it's Dermod Flynn that's in it!" she -cried in a frightened voice.</p> - -<p>I was looking at Norah Ryan. Just for a moment she was far from my -thoughts, and my mind was busy with other things. I had almost lost all -hopes of meeting her, and thought that she was dead or gone to a strange -country.</p> - -<p>"Is this you, Norah?" I asked, coming to a standstill, and putting out -the hand of welcome to her.</p> - -<p>She seemed taken aback, and placed her hand timorously in mine. Her -cheeks were very red and her brow was as white as snow. She had hardly -changed in features since I had last seen her, years before. Now her -hair was hidden under a large hat; long ago it hung down in brown waving -tresses over her shoulders. The half-timid look was still in the grey -eyes of her, and Norah Ryan was very much the same girl who had been my -sweetheart of old. Only, now she had sinned and her shame of all shames -was the hardest to bear.</p> - -<p>"Is it ye, yerself, that's in it, Dermod Flynn?" she asked, as if not -believing the evidence of her own eyes.</p> - -<p>In her voice there was a great weariness, and at that moment the sound -of the waters falling over the high rocks of Glenmornan were ringing in -my ears. Also I thought of an early delicate flower which I had once -found killed by the cold snows on the high uplands of Danaveen, ere yet -the second warmth of the spring had come to gladden the bare hills of -Donegal. In those days, being a little child, I felt sorry for the -flower that died so soon.</p> - -<p>"I didn't expect to meet ye here," said Norah. "Have ye been away back -and home since I saw ye last?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"I have never been at home since," I answered. "Have you?"</p> - -<p>"Me go home!" she replied. "What would I be doin' goin' home now with -the black mark of shame over me? Do ye think that I'd darken me mother's -door with the sin that's on me heavy, on me soul? Sometimes I'm thinkin' -long, but I never let on to anyone, and it's meself that would like to -see the old place again. It's a good lot I'd give to see the grey boats -of Dooey goin' out again beyont Trienna Bar in the grey duskus of the -harvest evenin'! Do ye mind the time ye were at school, Dermod, and the -way ye hit the master with the pointer?"</p> - -<p>"I mind it well," I answered. "You said that he was dead when he dropped -on the form."</p> - -<p>"And do ye mind the day that ye went over beyont the mountains with yer -bundle under yer arm? I met ye on the road and ye said that ye were -never comin' back."</p> - -<p>"You did not care whether I returned or not," I said resentfully, unable -to account for my mood of the moment. "You did not even stop to bid me -good-bye."</p> - -<p>"I was frightened of ye."</p> - -<p>"Why were you frightened?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"But you did not even turn and look after me," I said.</p> - -<p>"That was because I knew that ye, yerself, was lookin' behind."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Quite well do I mind it, Dermod," she replied. "I often be thinkin' of -them days, I do, indeed."</p> - -<p>She was looking at me with wistful and pathetic eyes, and the street -lamp beside us shone full on her face. There was a long interval of -silence, and I did not know what to say next. Many a time had I thought -of our next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> meeting, and my head was usually teeming with the words of -welcome which I would say to her. But now I was almost at a loss for one -single word. The situation was strained, and she showed signs of taking -her departure.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going at this hour of the night, Norah?" I asked -impulsively.</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' for a walk."</p> - -<p>"Where are you working?"</p> - -<p>Well did I know her work, but I could not resist asking her the -question. The next moment I was sorry for my words. Norah's face became -white, she stammered a few words about being a servant in a gentleman's -house, then suddenly burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Don't cry," I said in a lame sort of manner. "What's wrong?"</p> - -<p>She kept her eyes fixed on the pavement, and did not answer. I could see -her bosom heaving, and hear the low sobs that she tried vainly to -suppress. We stood there for nearly five minutes without a word. Then -she held out her hand.</p> - -<p>"Slan agiv,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> Dermod," she said. "I must be goin'. It was good of ye -to speak to me in that nice way of yers, Dermod."</p> - -<p>The hand which she placed in mine was limp and cold. I struggled to find -words to express my feelings at the moment, but my tongue was tied, and -my mind was teeming with thoughts which I could not express. She drew -her hand softly from mine and walked back the way she had come.</p> - -<p>I stood there nonplussed, feeling conscious of some great wrong in -allowing that grey-eyed Irish girl to wander alone through the naked -streets of Glasgow. For years I had recognised the evils of -prostitution, but never had those evils come home so sharply to me as -they did at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> moment. Despite my cynical views on love I had always -a feeling deeper than friendship for Norah Ryan, and at times when I -tried to analyse this feeling I found that it was not love; it was -something more constant, less rash and less wavering. It was not subject -to changes or stints, it was a hold-fast, the grip of which never -lessened.</p> - -<p>It was a love without any corporal end; its greatest desire did not turn -to the illusive delights of the marriage bed. My love had none of the -hunger of lust; it was not an appetite which might be satiated—it was -something far holier and more enduring. To me Norah represented a -poetical ideal; she was a saint, the angel of my dreams. Never for a -moment did I think of winning her love merely for the purpose of -condemning her to a hell of bearing me children. In all our poetry and -music of love we delight merely in the soft glance of eyes, the warm -touch of lips, the soft feel of a maiden's breast and the flutter of one -heart beating against another. But all love of women leads to passion, -and poetry or music cannot follow beyond a certain boundary. There -poetry dies, music falters, and the mark of the beast is over man in the -moments of his desire. But my love for Norah was different. To me she -represented a youthful ideal which was too beautiful and pure to be -degraded by anything in the world.</p> - -<p>Norah had given her love to another. Who was I that I should blame her? -In her love she was helpless, for love is not the result of effort. It -cannot be stopped; its course cannot be stayed. As well ask the soft -spring meadows to prevent the rising freshet from wetting the green -grass, as ask a maiden to stem the torrent of the love which overwhelms -her. Love is not acquired; it is not a servant. It comes and is master.</p> - -<p>Norah's sufferings were due to her innocence. She was betrayed when yet -a child, and a child is easily led astray.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> But to me she was still -pure, and I knew that there was no stain on the soul of her.</p> - -<p>For a long while I stood looking after her and turning thoughts over in -my mind. In the far distance I could see her stealing along the pavement -like a frightened child who is afraid of the shadows. I turned and -followed her, keeping well in the gloom of the houses which lined the -pavement. She passed through many streets, stopping now and again to -speak to the men whom she met on her journey. Never once did she look -back. At the corner of Sauciehall Street, a well-dressed and -half-intoxicated man stopped and spoke to her. For a few seconds they -conversed; then the man linked his arm in hers and the two of them -walked off together.</p> - -<p>I stood at the street corner, unable to move or act, and almost unable -to think. A blind rage welled up in my heart against the social system -that compelled women to seek a livelihood by pandering to the impurity -of men. Norah had come to Scotland holy and pure, and eager to earn the -rent of her mother's croft. She had earned many rents for the landlord -who had caused me sufferings in Mid-Tyrone and who was responsible for -the death of my brother Dan. To the same landlord Norah had given her -soul and her purity. The young girls of Donegal come radiantly innocent -from their own glens and mountains, but often, alas! they fall into sin -in a far country. It is unholy to expect all that is good and best from -the young girls who lodge with the beasts of the byre and swine of the -sty. I felt angry with the social system which was responsible for such -a state of affairs, but my anger was thrown away; it was a monstrous -futility. The social system is not like a person; one man's anger cannot -remedy it, one man's fist cannot strike at its iniquities.</p> - -<p>Norah had now disappeared, and with my brain afire I followed her round -the turn of the street. What I intended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> to do was even a riddle to -myself. When I overtook them the man who accompanied Norah would bear -the impress of my knuckles for many days. Only of this was I certain. I -turned into several streets and searched until three o'clock in the -morning. But she had gone out of my sight once again. Then I went home -to bed, but not to sleep.</p> - -<p>Sick at heart and a prey to remorse, I prowled through the streets for -many nights afterwards, looking for Norah. I did not meet her again, and -only too late did I realise the opportunity which I had let slip when I -met her at midnight in the city. But meeting her as I had met her on the -streets, I found myself faced with a new problem, which for a moment -overwhelmed and snapped the springs of action within me. In Glenmornan -Norah would now be known as "that woman," and the Glenmornan pride makes -a man much superior to women who make the great mistake of life. Thank -goodness! the Glenmornan pride was almost dead within my heart. I -thought that I had killed it years before, but there, on the streets of -Glasgow, I found that part of it was remaining when I met with Norah -Ryan. It rose in rebellion when I spoke to the girl who had sinned, it -checked the impulse of my heart for just a moment, and in that moment -she whom I loved had passed out of my sight and perhaps out of my life.</p> - -<p>Life on the railway, always monotonous, became now dreary and dragging. -Day and night my thoughts were turning to her whom I loved, and my heart -went out to the girl who was suffering in a lonely town because she -loved too well. I was now almost a prey to despair, and in order to -divert my mind somewhat from the thoughts that embittered my life I -began to write for the papers again.</p> - -<p>Ideas came to me while at work, and these I scribbled down on scraps of -paper when the old psalm-singing ganger was not watching me. When I got -back to Moran's in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> evening I worked the ideas into prose or verse -which I sent out to various papers. Many of my verses appeared in a -Glasgow paper, and I got paid at the rate of three-and-sixpence a poem. -Later on I wrote for London weeklies, and these paid me better for my -work. Some editors wrote very nice letters to me, others sent my stuff -back, explaining that lack of space prevented them from publishing it. I -often wondered why they did not speak the truth. A navvy who generally -speaks the truth finds it difficult to distinguish the line of -demarcation which runs between falsehood and politeness. Most of my -spare evenings I gave up to writing, but often I found myself out in the -street where I had met Norah Ryan, and sometimes I wandered there until -four o'clock in the morning, but never once set eyes on her.</p> - -<p>A literary frenzy took possession of me for a while. I bought -second-hand books on every subject, and studied all things from the -infinitely great to the infinitesimally little. Microbes and mammoths, -atoms and solar systems—I learned a little of all and everything of -none. I wrote, not for the love of writing as much as to drown my own -introspective humours, but in no external thing was I interested enough -to forget my own thoughts.</p> - -<p>I studied literary style, and but for that I might have by this time -cultivated a style of my own; I read so much that now I have hardly an -original idea left. Only lately have I come to the conclusion that true -art, the only true art, is that which appeals to the simple people. When -writing this book I have been governed by this conclusion, and have -endeavoured to tell of things which all people may understand.</p> - -<p>Most of my articles and stories came back with the precision of -boomerangs, weapons of which I have heard much talk, and which are said -to come back to the hand of the man who throws them away; some were -published<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> and never paid for, and some never came back at all.</p> - -<p>Suddenly it occurred to me that editors might like to publish articles -on subjects which were seldom written about. I wrote about the navvies' -lives again; the hopes and sorrows and aspirations of the men of the -hovel, model, and road. Several papers took my articles, and for a while -I drew in a decent penny for my literary work. Indeed, I had serious -intentions of giving up manual labour and taking to the pen for good. -Some of my stories again appeared in the <i>Dawn</i>, the London daily paper -which had published my Kinlochleven stories, and on one fine morning I -received a letter from the editor asking me to come and take a job on -the staff of his paper. He offered me two pounds a week as salary, and -added that I was certain to attain eminence in the position which was -now open to me. I decided to go, not because I had any great desire for -the job, but because I wanted to get rid of old Rudor and his gang, and -I also wanted to see London. Being wise enough to throw most of the -responsibility on the person who suggested such a change in my life and -work, I answered the editor, saying that though I was a writer among -navvies I might merely be a navvy among writers, and that journalistic -work was somewhat out of my line. Still the editor persisted and -enclosed the cost of my railway fare to London. To go I was not -reluctant, to leave I was not eager. I accepted because the change -promised new adventures, but there was no excitement in my heart, for -now I took things almost as they came, unmoved and uncaring. Norah had -gone out of my life, which, full of sorrow for losing her, was empty -without her. The enthusiasm which once winged my way along the leading -road to Strabane was now dead within me.</p> - -<p>I washed the dirt of honest work from my hands and face, and the whole -result of seven years' hard labour was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> dissipated in the wash-tub. Then -I went out and bought two ready-made suits and several articles of -attire which I felt would be necessary for my new situation. I packed -these up, and with my little handbag for company I went out from Moran's -model by Glasgow wharf, and caught the night express for London.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Good-bye; literally, "Health be with you."</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIV</span> <span class="smaller">UNSKILLED LABOUR OF A NEW KIND</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"A newspaper is as untruthful as an epitaph."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s15"> </span>—<span class="smcap">Barwell.</span></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I had never seen an omnibus. I did not know that it was necessary to -take off my hat when entering a dwelling. I had never used a fork when -eating. I had never been introduced to a lady; to me the approved form -of introduction was a mystery. My boots had not been blackened for -years. I wore my first collar when setting out for London. It nearly -choked me. Since leaving Glenmornan I had rarely been inside an ordinary -dwelling house. Most of the time I had lived under God's sky, the roof -of a byre, and the tarred wooden covering of the navvies' shack at -Kinlochleven. I had, it is true, seen the inside of a drawing-room and a -dining-room—through the window. I lacked knowledge of most of the -things which most people know and which really do not matter. I went to -London a greenhorn gloriously green.</p> - -<p>Outside Euston station I asked a man the way to Fleet Street. He -inquired if I was going to walk or take an omnibus. Omnibus! I had never -heard of an omnibus; he might have asked me if I intended to ride on a -pterodactyl! I said that I was going to walk, and the stranger gave me -several hints as to the direction which I should follow. Even if I had -understood what he was saying, I am certain that I could not have -remembered the directions. When he finished, he asked me for the price -of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> his breakfast. This I understood, and gave him threepence, which -pleased the man mightily.</p> - -<p>It was funny that the first man accosted by me in London should ask for -the price of a meal. The prospects of making a fortune looked poor at -the moment.</p> - -<p>I walked to Fleet Street, making inquiries from policemen on the way. -This was safest, and I hadn't to pay for a meal when my questions were -answered. By ten o'clock I found myself at the office of the <i>Dawn</i>, and -there I met the editor.</p> - -<p>The editor was a Frenchman, short of stature and breath. His figure was -ridiculously rotund, and his little legs were so straight that they -looked as if they were jointless. He would not have made much of a show -on a ten-hour shift in the cutting of Kinlochleven, and though Fleet -Street knows that he is one of the ablest editors in London I had not -much respect for the man when I first saw him. He was busily engaged in -looking through sheets of flimsy when I entered, and for a few minutes -he did not take much notice of me. He called me Pim, asked me several -questions about the navvies, my politics and writings. He looked annoyed -when I said I was a socialist.</p> - -<p>"A writer among navvies, and a navvy among writers; is that it?" asked -the news-editor when I entered his office, a stuffy little place full of -tobacco smoke. "You see that we have heard of you here. Going to try -your hand at journalism now, are you? Feeling healthy and fit?"</p> - -<p>He plied me with several questions relating to my past life, took no -heed of my answers and, fumbling amongst a pile of papers, he drew out a -type-written slip.</p> - -<p>"I have a story for you," he said. "A fire broke out early this morning -in a warehouse in Holborn. Go out and get all the facts relating to it -and work the whole affair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> up well. If you do not know where Holborn is, -make enquiries."</p> - -<p>I met a third man, a young, clean-shaven, alert youth, in the passage -outside the news-editor's door.</p> - -<p>"Are you Flynn?" he asked, and when I answered in the affirmative he -shook hands with me. "My name is Barwell," he continued. "I am a -journalist like yourself. What the devil caused you to come here?"</p> - -<p>I had no excuses to offer.</p> - -<p>"You might have stayed where you were," said Barwell. "You'll find that -a navvies' office is much better than a newspaper office. Have you had -lunch?"</p> - -<p>"No," I answered. It was now nearly one o'clock, but I had not had -breakfast yet. I had never been inside a restaurant in my life, and the -daintily-dressed waitresses and top-hatted feeders deterred me from -entering that morning. I might have done something unbecoming and -stupid, and in a strange place I am sensitive and shy.</p> - -<p>"Come along then. We'll go out together and feed."</p> - -<p>We entered a restaurant in the Strand, and my friend ordered lunch for -two. During the course of the meal I suffered intense mental agony. The -fork was a problem, the serviette a mystery, and I felt certain that -everybody in the place was looking at me.</p> - -<p>"The news-editor has asked me to write an account of a fire in Holborn," -I said to Barwell when we had eaten, "Do you know where Holborn is?"</p> - -<p>"The whole account of the fire is given in the evening papers," said -Barwell. "Therefore you do not require to go near the place."</p> - -<p>"You mean——"</p> - -<p>"Exactly what you are going to say," said the young man looking at the -copy of the evening paper which he had bought at the door when entering. -"You can write<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> your story now and get the facts from this. Have you a -pencil and notebook?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"If you are going to take up journalism they are the initial and -principal requirements. Beyond a little tact and plenty of cheek you -require nothing else. A conscience and a love of truth are great -drawbacks. Are you ready?"</p> - -<p>He handed me a pencil and notebook.</p> - -<p>"Now begin. The opening sentence must be crisp and startling; and never -end your sentences with prepositions."</p> - -<p>"But I know nothing about the fire," I expostulated.</p> - -<p>"Oh! I've forgotten." He picked up the paper which he had -absent-mindedly kicked under the table. "Now you are all right. Get your -facts from this rag, but write the story in your own way. You'll find -this good training if ever you've got to weave out lies of your own. -Meanwhile I've three or four novels to review."</p> - -<p>As he spoke he opened a parcel which he had brought along with him, and -took out several books which he regarded critically for a moment.</p> - -<p>"Are they worth reading?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I do not know."</p> - -<p>"You do not know and you're going to review them!"</p> - -<p>"It's bad policy to read a book before you review it," he answered. "It -is apt to give rise to prejudice. This volume," taking up one in his -hand as he spoke, "<i>The Woman who Fell</i>, is written by a personal friend -of the editor. I must review it favourably. This one, <i>In the Teeth of -the Tempest</i>, is written by a strong supporter of the Liberal -Government. The <i>Dawn</i> is tory, the author is liberal, therefore his -work must be slated. See?"</p> - -<p>"But your own opinion——"</p> - -<p>"What the devil do I need with an opinion of my own?"</p> - -<p>Thereupon Barwell reviewed the books which he had not read and I muddled -through an account of the fire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> which I had not seen, and when we had -finished we took our way into the street again.</p> - -<p>Although it was barely past three o'clock, the early December night had -now fallen. Fleet Street was a blaze of light and a medley of taxi-cabs -and omnibuses. Except for the down-at-heel mendicant, and the women who -had more paint than modesty, everybody was in a great hurry.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of it all, Flynn?" asked Barwell suddenly. "Isn't it -a great change from your past life? London! there's no place like it in -all the world! Light loves and light ladies, passion without soul, -enjoyment without stint, and sin without scandal or compunction."</p> - -<p>"Only those with some idea of virtue can sin with compunction," I said. -This thought came to me suddenly, and Barwell looked surprised at my -words.</p> - -<p>"By Jove! that's so," he answered, scribbling my remark down on his -notebook. "Well, what is your opinion of London, all that you have seen -of it?"</p> - -<p>"What the devil do I want with an opinion?" I asked, quoting his own -words.</p> - -<p>"Quite so; but we are now speaking in a confidential, not in a -journalistic sense. Do you not think that it is a heavenly privilege to -be allowed to write lies for a kingdom of fools within ninety-eight -million miles of the sun? You'll fall in love with London directly, old -man, for it is the centre of the universe. The world radiates outwards -from Charing Cross and revolves around the Nelson column. London is the -world, journalism is the midden of creation."</p> - -<p>"Do you really think that men are acting in a straightforward manner by -writing unfair and untruthful articles for the public?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"The public is a crowd of asses and you must interest it. You are paid -to interest it with plausible lies or unsavoury truths. An unsavoury -truth is always palatable to those whom it does not harm. Our readers -gloat over scandal,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> revel in scandal, and pay us for writing it. Learn -what the public requires and give it that. Think one thing in the -morning and another at night; preach what is suitable to the mob and -study the principle of the paper for which you write. That's how you -have to do it, Flynn. A paper's principle is a very subtle thing, and it -must be studied. Every measure passed in Parliament affects it, it -oscillates to the breezes of public opinion and it is very intangible. -The principle of a daily paper is elusive, old man, damned elusive. Come -in and have a whisky and soda."</p> - -<p>"Not elusive but changeable, I suppose," I said, alluding to his -penultimate remark as we stood at the bar of the wine shop. "The -principles of the <i>Dawn</i> are rather consistent, are they not?"</p> - -<p>"The principles oscillate, old man. Your health, and may you live until -newspapers are trustworthy! Consistent, eh? Some day you'll learn of the -inconsistencies of Fleet Street, Flynn. Here the Jew is an advocate of -Christianity, the American of Protection, the poet a compiler of -statistics, the penny-a-liner a defender of the idle rich, and the -reporter with anarchistic ideas a defender of social law and order. Here -charlatans, false as they are clever, play games in which the pawns are -religion and atheism, and make, as suits their purpose, material -advantages of the former or a religion of the latter. Fleet Street is -the home of chicanery, of fraud, of versatile vices and unnumbered sins. -It is an outcome of the civilisation which it rules, a framer of the -laws which it afterwards destroys or protects at caprice; without -conscience or soul it dominates the world. Only in its falseness is it -consistent. Truth is further removed from its jostling rookeries than -the first painted savage who stoned the wild boar in the sterile wastes -of Ludgate Circus."</p> - -<p>Barwell's gestures were as astonishing as his eloquence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> One hand -clutched the lapel of his coat; in the other he held the glass of liquor -which he shook violently when reaching the zenith of his harangue. The -whisky splashed and sparkled and kept spurting over the rim of the glass -until most of the contents were emptied on the floor. He hardly drank a -quarter of the liquor. We went out, and once in the street he continued -his vehement utterances.</p> - -<p>"Take the <i>Dawn</i> for example," he said. "The editor is a Frenchman, the -leader-writer a German, the American special correspondent an Irishman -who came to England on a cattle boat and who has never ventured on the -sea since. The <i>Dawn</i> advocates Tariff Reform, and most of the reporters -are socialists. The leader-writer points out the danger of a German -menace daily. What influences one of the Kaiser's subjects to sit down -and, for the special benefit of the British nation, write a thrilling -warning against the German menace? Salary or conscience, eh? The <i>Dawn</i> -knows the opinions of Germany before Germany has formed an opinion, and -gives particulars of the grave situation in the Far East before the -chimerical situation has evolved from its embryological stages. -Consistent, my dear fellow? It is only consistent in its -inconsistencies. The reviewers seldom read the books which they review -in its pages, and the quack suffers from the ills which through its -columns he professes to cure. The bald man who sells a wonderful hair -restorer, the cripple who can help the lame, and the anæmic pill-maker -who professes ability to cure any disease, all advertise in the <i>Dawn</i>. -A newspaper is as untruthful as an epitaph, Flynn."</p> - -<p>"If you dislike the work so much why do you remain on the staff?" I -asked.</p> - -<p>"I do not dislike it. Being by nature a literary Philistine and vagabond -journalist, I love the work. Anyhow, there is nothing else which I can -do. If I happened to be placed on a square acre of earth fresh from the -hands of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> Creator, and given a spade and shovel to work with, what -use could I make of those tools of labour? I could not earn my living -with a spade and shovel. It was for the like of us that London and -journalism were created."</p> - -<p>For a while I was very much out of my place at my quarters in -Bloomsbury, for it was in that locality that I obtained rooms along with -Barwell. Everything in the place was a fresh experience to me; at the -dinner-table I did not know the names of the dishes. The table napkins -were problems which were new to me, and the frilled and collared -maid-servant was a phenomena, disconcerting and unavoidable.</p> - -<p>I who had cooked my own chops for the best part of seven years, I who -had dined in moleskin and rags for such a long while, felt the handicap -of dining inside four walls, hemmed with restraint, and almost choked -with the horrible starched abomination which decency decreed that I -should wear around my neck. It was very wearisome. Barwell was utterly -careless and outraged custom with impunity, but I, who feared to do the -wrong thing, always remained on the tenter-hooks of suspense. Barwell -knew what should be done and seldom did it, while I, who was only -learning the very rudimentary affectations of civilised society, took -care to follow out the most stringent commands of etiquette whenever I -became aware of those commands.</p> - -<p>At the office of the <i>Dawn</i> I was reticent and backward. I lacked the -cleverness, the smartness and readiness of expression with which other -members of the staff were gifted. I had come into a new world, utterly -foreign to me, and often I longed to be back again with Moleskin Joe on -some long road leading to nowhere.</p> - -<p>For a while my stories were not successful, although I made a point of -seeing the things of which I wrote. I came back to the office every -evening full of my subject, whether<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> a florist's exhibition, a cat show, -or a police court case, and sat down seriously to write my story. When -half-written I tore it up seriously and began again. When satisfied with -the whole completed account I took it to the sub-editor, who read it -seriously and seriously threw it into the waste-paper basket. At the end -of the first week I found that only two articles of mine had appeared in -the <i>Dawn</i>. I had written eight.</p> - -<p>"You write in too serious a vein for a modern paper," said the -sub-editor.</p> - -<p>When the spring came round I could feel, even in Fleet Street, the spell -of the old roving days come over me; those days when Moleskin and I -tramped along the roads of Scotland, thanking God for the little scraps -of tobacco which we found in our pockets, while wondering where the next -pipeful could be obtained! My heart went out to the old mates and the -old places. I had a longing for the little fire in the darkness, the -smell of the wet earth, the first glimpse of the bend in the road, and -the dream about the world of mystery lying round the corner. When I went -across Blackfriars Bridge, or along the Strand, on a cold, bracing -morning, I wanted to walk on ever so far, away—away. Where to—it -didn't matter. The office choked me, smothered me; it felt so like a -prison. I wanted to be with Moleskin Joe, and often I asked myself, -"Where is he now? what is my old comrade doing at this moment? Is the -old vagabond still happy in his wanderings and his hopes of a good time -coming, or has he finished up his last shift and handed in his final -check for good and all?" Often I longed to see him again and travel with -him to new and strange places.</p> - -<p>Of my salary, now three pounds a week, I sent a guinea home to my own -people every Saturday. Of course, now, getting so much, they wanted -more. Journalism to them implied some hazy kind of work where money was -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>stint-less and to be had for the asking. My other brothers were going -out into the world now, and my eldest sister had gone to America. "I -wish that I could keep <i>them</i> at home," wrote my mother. "<i>You</i> are so -long away now that we do not miss you."</p> - -<p>"Will you go down to Cyfladd, Flynn, and write some 'stories' about the -coal strike?" asked the news editor one morning. "I think that you have -a natural bent for these labour affairs. Your navvy stories were -undoubtedly good, and even a spicy bit of socialism added to their -charm."</p> - -<p>"Spicy bit of socialism, indeed!" broke in the irrepressible Barwell. -"The day will come when the working men of England shall invade London -and decorate Fleet Street with the gibbeted bodies of hireling editors. -Have you a cigarette to spare, Manwell?"</p> - -<p>"You go down to Cyfladd, Flynn," said the news editor, handing his -cigarette-case to Barwell. "See what is doing there and write up good -human stories dealing with the discontent of the workers. Do not be -afraid to state things bluntly. Tell about their drinking and -quarrelling, and if you come across miners who are in good circumstance -don't fail to write about it."</p> - -<p>"But suppose for a moment that he comes across men who are really poor, -men who may not have had enough wages to make both ends meet, what is he -to do?" asked loquacious Barwell, the socialistic Philistine, who played -with ideas for the mere sake of the ideas. "For myself, I do not believe -in the right to strike, and I admire the man who starves to death -without making a fuss. Why should uncultured and uneducated miners -create a fuss if they are starved to death in order to satisfy the needs -of honourable and learned gentlemen? What right has a common worker to -ask for higher wages? What right has he to take a wife and bring up -children? The children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> of the poor should be fattened and served up on -the tables of the rich, as advocated by Dean Swift in an age prior to -the existence of the <i>Dawn</i>. The children of the poor who cannot become -workers become wastrels; the rich wastrels wear eye-glasses and spats. -We have no place in the scheme of things for the wastrels who wear -neither eye-glasses nor spats, therefore I believe that it would be good -for the nation if many of the children of the poor were fattened, -killed, and eaten. But I am wandering from the point. Let us look at the -highly improbable supposition of which I have spoken. It is highly -improbable, of course, that there are poor people amongst the miners, -for they have little time to spend the money which they take so long to -earn. Now and again they die, leaving a week's wages lying at the -pay-office. I have heard of cases like that several times. These men, -who are out on strike, may leave a whole week's pay to their wives and -children when they die, and for all that they grumble and go out on -strike! But we cannot expect anything else from uneducated workmen. I am -wandering from the point again, and the point is this: Suppose, for an -instant, that Flynn doesn't find a rich, quarrelsome, and drunken miner -in Cyfladd, what is he to do? Return again?"</p> - -<p>"You're a fool, Barwell!" said the news editor.</p> - -<p>"Manwell, you're a confirmed fool," Barwell replied.</p> - -<p>I put on my coat and hat, stuffed my gloves, which I hated, into my -pocket, and went out into the street. The morning was dry and cold, the -air was exhilarating and good to breathe. I gulped it down in mighty -mouthfuls. It was good to be in the open street and feel the little -winds whipping by in mad haste. Up in the office, steaming with -cigarette smoke, it was so stuffy, so dead. Everything there was so -artificial, so unreal, and I was altogether out of sympathy with all the -individuals on the <i>Dawn</i>. "Do I like the <i>Dawn</i>?" I asked myself. I -wanted to face things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> frankly at that moment. "Do I like journalism, or -merely feel that I should like it?" But I made no effort to answer the -question; it was not very important, and now I was walking hurriedly, -trying to keep myself warm. Two things occurred to me at the same -instant: I was short of money and I had not asked for my railway fare to -Wales at the office. Where did the train start from? Was it Euston? I -did not exactly know, and somehow it didn't seem to matter.</p> - -<p>I would not go to Wales; I did not want to analyse my reasons for not -going, but I was determined not to go. I felt that in going I would be -betraying my own class, the workers. Moleskin Joe would never dream of -doing a thing like that; why should I? I must make some excuse at the -office, I thought, but asked myself the next instant why should I make -any excuses? Besides, the office was like a prison; it choked me. I -wanted to leave, but somehow felt that I ought not.</p> - -<p>I found myself going along Gray's Inn Road towards my lodging-house. A -girl opened a window and looked at me with a vacant stare. She was -speaking to somebody in the room behind her and her voice trailed before -me like a thin mist. She somewhat resembled Norah Ryan: the same white -brow, the red lips, only that this girl had a sorrowful look in her -eyes, as if too many weary thoughts had found expression there.</p> - -<p>How often during the last four months had I thought of Norah Ryan. I -longed for her with a mighty longing, and now that she was alone and in -great trouble it was my duty to help her. I felt angry with myself for -going up to London when I should have followed up my holier mission in -Glasgow. What was fortune and fame to me if I did not make the girl whom -I really loved happy? Daily it became clearer to me that I was earnestly -and madly in love with Norah. We were meant for one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> another from -childhood, although destiny played against us for a while. I would find -her again and we would be happy, very happy, together, and the past -would be blotted out in the great happiness which would be ours in the -future. To me Norah was always pure and always good. In her I saw no -wrong, no sin, and no evil. I would look for her until I found her, and -finding her would do my best to make her happy.</p> - -<p>The girl closed the window as I passed. I came to my lodgings, paid the -landlady, and wrote to the Dawn saying that I was leaving London. I -intended to tramp to the north, but a story of mine had just been -published in —— and the money came to hand while I was settling with -the landlady.</p> - -<p>I learned later that Barwell went down to Wales. That night I set off by -rail for Glasgow.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXV</span> <span class="smaller">THE SEARCH</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"When I go back to the old pals,</div> -<div>'Tis a glad, glad boy I'll be;</div> -<div>With them will I share the doss-house bunk</div> -<div>And join their revels with glee,</div> -<div>And the lean men of the lone shacks</div> -<div>Will share their tucker with me."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s9"> </span>—From <i>Songs of the Dead End</i>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I pawned my good clothes, my overcoat, and handbag in Glasgow, took a -bed in Moran's model by the wharf, and once again recommenced my search -for Norah.</p> - -<p>The search was both fruitless and tiring. Day after day I prowled -through the streets, and each succeeding midnight found me on the spot -where I had met Norah on the evening of my wrestling encounter. For -hours I would stand motionless at the street corner and scrutinise every -woman who passed me by. Sometimes in these children of the night I -fancied that I detected a resemblance to her whom I loved. With a -flutter in my heart I would hurry forward, only to find that I was -mistaken. Disappointed, I would once again resume my vigil, and -sometimes the grey smoky dawn was slanting across the dull roofs of the -houses before I sought my model and bed. It is a weary job, looking for -a friend in a great big city. One street is more perplexing than a -hundred miles of open country. A window or a wall separates you from her -whom you seek. You pass day after day, perhaps, within speaking distance -of her whom you love, and never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> know that she is near you. Every door -is a puzzle, every lighted window an enigma. The great city is a Sahara, -in which you look for one special grain of sand; and doubt, perplexity, -and heart yearning accompany you on your mission. I could not write, -neither could I turn my attention to manual labour. My whole being was -centred on my search, and the thought of anything else was repugnant to -me. My desire for Norah grew and grew, it filled my soul, leaving no -room for anything else.</p> - -<p>To Moran's, where I stayed, the navvies came daily when out on their -eternal wanderings, and here I met many of my old mates. They came, -stopped for a night, and then padded out for Rosyth, where the big naval -base, still in process of construction, was then in its first stages of -building. Most of the men had heard of my visit to London, and none -seemed surprised at my return. None of them thought that the job had -done me much good, for now my hands were as white as a woman's. Carroty -Dan, who came in drunk one night, examined me critically and allowed -that he could knock me out easily in my present condition, but being too -drunk to follow up any train of reasoning he dropped, in the midst of -his utterances, on the sawdust of the floor and fell asleep. Hell-fire -Gahey, Clancy of the Cross, Ben the Moocher, and Red Billy Davis all -passed through Moran's, one of their stages on the road to Rosyth. Most -of them wanted me to accompany the big stampede, but I had no ear for -their proposals. I had a mission of my own, and until it was completed -no man could persuade me to leave Glasgow.</p> - -<p>I made enquiries about Moleskin Joe. Most of the men had met Moleskin -lately, but they did not know where he was at the moment. Some said that -he was in gaol, one that he was dead, and another that he was married. -But I knew that if he was alive, and that if I stopped long enough in -Moran's, I would meet him there, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> most navvies pass that way more -than once in their lives. I had, however, lost a great deal of interest -in Moleskin's doings. There was only one thing for which I now lived, -and that was the search for the girl whom I loved.</p> - -<p>One morning about four o'clock I returned to my lodgings and stole -upstairs to the bedroom, which contained three other beds in addition to -mine. The three were occupied, and as I turned on the gas I took a -glimpse of the sleepers. Two of them I did not know, but I gave a start -of surprise when I caught a glimpse of the unshaven face showing over -the blankets of the bed next to mine. I was looking at Moleskin Joe. I -approached the bed. The man was snoring loudly and his breath was heavy -with the fumes of alcohol. I clutched the blankets and shook the -sleeper.</p> - -<p>"Moleskin!" I shouted.</p> - -<p>He grumbled out some incoherent words and turned over on his side.</p> - -<p>"Moleskin!" I called again, and gave him a more vigorous shake.</p> - -<p>"Lemme alone, damn you!" he growled. "There's a good time comin'——"</p> - -<p>The sentence ended in a snore and Joe fell asleep again. I troubled him -no further, but turned off the light and slipped into bed.</p> - -<p>In the morning I woke with a start to find Joe shaking me with all his -might. He was standing beside my bed, undressed, save for his trousers.</p> - -<p>"Flynn!" he yelled, when I opened my eyes. "My great unsanctified -Pontius Pilate, it's Flynn! Hurrah! May the walls of hell fall on me if -I'm not glad to see you. May I get a job shoein' geese and drivin' swine -to clover if this is not the greatest day of my life! Dermod Flynn, I am -glad to see—— Great blazes, your hands are like the hands of a brothel -slut!"</p> - -<p>Joe left off his wild discourses and prodded the hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> which I placed -over the blankets with his knuckles. He was still half intoxicated, and -a bottle three-quarters full of spirits was lying against the pillow of -his bed.</p> - -<p>"White as a mushroom, but hard as steel," he said when he finished -prodding.</p> - -<p>"How are you, Moleskin?" I asked. They were the first words that I had -spoken.</p> - -<p>"Nine pounds to the good!" he roared. "I'll paint Moran's red with it. -I'll raise Cain and flamin' fiery hell until ev'ry penny's spent. Then -Rosyth, muck barrows, hard labour, and growlin' gangers again. But who'd -have thought of seen' you here!" he went on in a quieter tone. "Man! -I've often been thinkin' of you. I heard that you went up to Lon'on, -then I found the name of the paper where you were workin' your shifts -and I bought it ev'ry day. By God! I did, Flynn. I read all them great -pieces about the East Lon'on workin' people. I read some of your -writin's to the men in Burn's at Greenock, and some of the lodgers said -that you were stuck up and priggish. I knew what you'd do if you were -there yourself. You would knock red and blue blazes out of ev'ry man of -them. Well, you weren't there and I done the job for you. Talk about -skin and hair! It was flyin' all over the place between the hot-plate -and the door for two hours and longer. I'm damned eternal if it wasn't a -fight! Never seen the like of it.... Man! your hands are like a woman's, -Flynn!... Come and have a drink, one good long, gulpin' drink, and it -will make a man of you!... Did you like the ways of London?"</p> - -<p>"No," I replied. "The pen was not in my line."</p> - -<p>"I knew that," said Joe solemnly, as he lifted the bottle from the -pillow. "Finger doctorin' doesn't suit a man like you. When you work you -must get your shoulder at the job and all the strength of your spine -into the graft. Have some blasted booze?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p><p>"I've given up the booze, Moleskin," I answered.</p> - -<p>He glanced at me with a look of frosty contempt and his eyes were fixed -for a long while on my white hands.</p> - -<p>"Lon'on has done for you, man, and it is a pity indeed," he said at -last, but I understood Moleskin and knew that his compassion was given -more in jest than in earnest. "What are you goin' to do? Are you for -Rosyth?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then why the devil aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"Are you going there?" I asked, forgetting that he had already told me -of his design.</p> - -<p>"When I burst the last tanner in my pocket," he answered. "I've nine -quid clear, so I'll get drunk nine hundred times and more. What caused -you to give up the booze? A woman, was it?"</p> - -<p>Suddenly the impulse came to me and I told Joe my story, my second -meeting with Norah Ryan, and my desire to see her again. There in the -ragged bed, with Joe stripped naked to the buff, and half drunk, sitting -beside me, I told the story of my love for Norah, our parting, her -shame, and my weary searching for her through the streets of Glasgow. -Much of the story he knew, for I had told it to him in Kinlochleven long -before. But I wanted to unburden myself of my sorrow, I wanted sympathy, -I wanted the consolation of a fellow-man in my hours of worry. When I -had finished my mate remained silent for a long while and I expected his -usual tirades against women when he began to speak. On the contrary, the -story seemed to have sobered him and his voice was full of feeling when -he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' to help you to find your wench, Dermod," he said. "That's -better than gettin' drunk, though I'd prefer gettin' drunk to gettin' -married."</p> - -<p>"But——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>"Don't but me!" roared Joe. "I'm goin' to give you a hand. Do you like -that or do you not?"</p> - -<p>"I'll be more than glad to have your help," I answered; "but——"</p> - -<p>"No more damned buts, but let's get to business. Here, Judas Iscariot, -are you feelin' sour this mornin'?"</p> - -<p>Joe spoke to one of the lodgers, a hairy and deformed fellow who was -just emerging in all his nakedness from the blankets.</p> - -<p>"Hellish sour, Moleskin!" answered the man. "Anything to spare?"</p> - -<p>"Take this and get drunk out of sight," said Moleskin, handing him the -bottle.</p> - -<p>"You mean it?" exclaimed the man. "You are goin' to give me the whole -bottle?"</p> - -<p>"Take it and get out of my sight," was all that Joe said and the old man -left the room, hugging the bottle under his naked arm.</p> - -<p>"He was a bank clerk did you say?" asked Moleskin. "Them sort of fellows -that wear white collars and are always washing themselves. I never could -trust them, Flynn, never in all my natural. Now give me the farmer -cully's address; maybe he knows where your wench is."</p> - -<p>In my heart of hearts I knew that the mission proposed by Joe would have -no beneficial results, but I could not for the life of me say a word to -restrain him from going. In my mind there was a blind trust in some -unshapen chance and I allowed Joe to have his way.</p> - -<p>The farmhouse where Alec Morrison lived being twenty miles distant from -Glasgow, I offered Joe his railway fare, and for a moment I was -overwhelmed by his Rabelaisian abuse. He would see me fried on the -red-hot ovens and spits of hell if ever I offered him money again.</p> - -<p>Morrison maybe was not at home; perhaps he had gone to London, to -Canada. But Joe would find him out,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> I thought; and it was with a -certain amount of satisfaction that I remembered having heard how Joe -once fought a man twenty-six times, and getting knocked out every time -challenged his opponent to a twenty-seventh contest. In the last fight -my mate was victorious.</p> - -<p>During his absence I moped about, unable to work, unable to think, and -hoping against hope that the mission would be successful. Late in the -afternoon he returned with a sprained thumb and without any tidings of -my sweetheart. The clerk was at home, and the encounter with Joe was -violent from the outset. Morrison said that my mate was a fool who had -nothing better to do than meddle with the morals of young women; and -refused to answer any questions. Joe took the matter in hand in his -usual fistic and persuasive way and learned that the farmer's son had -not seen Norah for years and that he did not know where she was. Joe, -angry at his failure, sprained his thumb on the young man's face before -coming back to Glasgow.</p> - -<p>"And what was the good of this?" said Moleskin, holding up his sprained -thumb and looking at it. "It didn't give one much satisfaction to knock -him down. He is a fellow with no thoughts in his head; one of them kind -that thinks three shillings a week paid to a woman will wipe out any sin -or shame. By God! I'm a bad one, Flynn, damned bad, but I hope that I've -been worse to myself than anybody on this or the other side of the -grave. Look at these young women who come over from Ireland! I'd rather -have the halter of Judas Iscariot round my neck than be the cause of -sendin' one of them to the streets, and all for the woman's sake, Flynn. -There should be something done for these women. If we find a tanner -lying in the mud we lift and rub it on our coats to clean it; but if we -find a woman down we throw more mud over her.... I like you, Flynn, for -the way you stand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> up for that wench of yours. Gold rings, collars, and -clean boots, and under it all a coward. That's what Morrison is."</p> - -<p>"What is to be done now?" I asked. Joe was silent, but his mind was at -work. All that evening he sat by the bed, his mind deep in thought, -while I paced up and down the room, a prey to agony and remorse.</p> - -<p>"I have it, Flynn," he cried at length. "I have it, man!" He jumped up -from his bed in great excitement.</p> - -<p>"Your wench was Catholic and she would go to the chapel; a lot of them -do. They steal into church just like thieves, almost afraid to ask -pardon for their sins, Flynn. If there is anything good in them they -hide it, just as another person would hide a fault; but maybe some -priest knows her, some priest on the south side. We'll go and ask one of -the clergy fellows thereabouts. Maybe one of them will have met the -woman. I've never knew a——" He stopped suddenly and left the sentence -unspoken.</p> - -<p>"Go on," I said. "What were you going to say?"</p> - -<p>"Most of the women that I know go to church."</p> - -<p>His words spoke volumes. Well did I know the class of women who were -friends of Moleskin Joe, and from personal experience I knew that his -remarks were true.</p> - -<p>It was now eight o'clock. We went out together and sought the priest who -had charge of the chapel nearest the spot where many months before I had -met Norah Ryan. The priest was a grey-haired and kindly old Irishman, -and he welcomed us heartily. Joe, to whom a priest represented some kind -of monster, was silent in the man's presence, but I, having been born -and bred a Roman Catholic, was more at home with the old man.</p> - -<p>I told my story, but he was unable to offer any assistance. His -congregation was a large one and many of its members were personally -unknown to him.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>"But in the confessional, Father," I said. "Probably there you have -heard a story similar to mine. Maybe the girl whom I seek has told you -of her life when confessing her sins. Perhaps you may recollect hearing -such a story in the confessional, Father."</p> - -<p>"It may be, but in that case the affair rests between the penitent and -God," said the old priest sadly, and a far-away look came into his -kindly eyes.</p> - -<p>"If the disclosure of a confessional secret brings happiness to one -mortal at the expense of none, is it not best for a man to disclose it?" -I asked.</p> - -<p>"I act under God's orders and He knows what is best," said the old man, -and there was a touch of reproof in his voice.</p> - -<p>Sick at heart, I rose to take my leave. Moleskin, glad to escape from -the house, hurried towards the door which the priest opened. As I was -passing out, the old man laid a detaining hand upon my arm.</p> - -<p>"In a situation like this, one of God's servants hardly knows what is -best to do," he said in a low whisper which Moleskin, already in the -street, could not hear. "Perhaps it is not contrary to God's wishes that -I should go against His commands and make two of His children happy even -in this world. Three months ago, your sweetheart was in this very -district, in this parish, and in this chapel. Do not ask me how I have -learned this," he hurried on, as I made a movement to interrupt him. "If -I mistake not she was then in good health and eager to give up a certain -sin, which God has long since forgiven. Be clean of heart, my child, and -God will aid you in your search and you'll surely find her."</p> - -<p>He closed the door softly behind me and once again I found myself in the -street along with Moleskin.</p> - -<p>"What was the fellow sayin' to you?" asked my mate.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>"He says that he has seen her three months ago," I answered. "But -goodness knows where she is now!"</p> - -<p>In the subsequent search Moleskin showed infinite resource. Torn by the -emotions of love, I could not form correct judgments. No sooner had one -expedient failed, however, than my mate suggested another. On the -morning after our interview with the priest he suddenly rose from his -seat in the bedroom, full of a new design.</p> - -<p>"My great Jehovah, I have it, Flynn!" he roared enthusiastically.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I asked. Every new outburst of Moleskin gave me renewed -hope.</p> - -<p>"Gourock Ellen, that's the woman!" he cried. "She knows ev'rything and -she lives in the south side, where you saw your wench for the last time. -I'm goin' to see Gourock Ellen, for she's the woman that knows -ev'rything, by God! she does. You can stop here and I'll be back in next -to no time."</p> - -<p>About seven o'clock in the evening Joe returned. There was a strained -look on his face and he gazed at me furtively when he entered. Instantly -I realised that the search had not gone well. He was nervous and -agitated, and his voice was low and subdued. It was not Moleskin's voice -at all. Something had happened, something discouraging, awful.</p> - -<p>"I'm back again," he said.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen her, Joe?" I asked hoarsely. I had been waiting his -return for hours and I was on the tenter-hooks of suspense.</p> - -<p>"I've seen Gourock Ellen," said Joe.</p> - -<p>"Does she know anything about Norah?"</p> - -<p>"She does." I waited for further information, but my mate relapsed into -a silence which irritated me.</p> - -<p>"Where is Norah, Moleskin?" I cried. "Tell me what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> that woman said. I'm -sick of waiting day after day. What did Gourock Ellen tell you, Joe?"</p> - -<p>"I saw Norah Ryan, too," was Moleskin's answer.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Moleskin!" I cried impetuously. "You're a real good -sort——"</p> - -<p>A look at Joe's face damped my enthusiasm. Why the agitation and -faltering voice? Presentiments of bad tidings filled my mind and my -voice trembled as I put the next question.</p> - -<p>"Where did you see her, Joe?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"In Gourock Ellen's house."</p> - -<p>"In that woman's house!" I gasped involuntarily, for I had not rid -myself of the fugitive disgust with which I had regarded that woman when -first I met her. "That's not the house for Norah! What took her there?"</p> - -<p>"Gourock Ellen found Norah lyin' on the streets hurted because some -hooligans treated her shameful," said Joe, in a low and almost inaudible -voice. "For the last six weeks she has watched over your girl, day and -night, when there was not another friend to help her in all the world. -And now Norah Ryan is for death. She'll not live another twenty-four -hours!"</p> - -<p>To me existence has meant succeeding reconciliations to new misfortunes, -and now the greatest misfortune had happened. Moleskin's words cut -through my heart as a whiplash cuts through the naked flesh. Fate, -chance, and the gods were against me, and the spine of life was almost broken.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE END OF THE STORY</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Our years pass like a tale that is told badly."</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div><span class="s12"> </span>—<span class="smcap">Moleskin Joe.</span></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The darkness had long since fallen over the tumbledown rookeries of the -Glasgow alley wherein this story is to end, but the ragged children -still played in the gutters and the old withered women still gossiped on -the pavements. Two drunken men fought outside a public-house and another -lay asleep on the dirty kerbstone. When Moleskin and I came to the close -which was well known to my mate we had to step over the drunken man in -making an entrance.</p> - -<p>We passed through a long arched passage and made our way up a flight of -rickety wooden stairs, which were cracked at every step, while each -crack was filled with the undisturbed dirt of months.</p> - -<p>"In there," said Joe, pointing to a splintered door when we gained the -top landing. "I'm goin' to stop outside and wait till you come back -again."</p> - -<p>I rapped on the door, but there was no response. I pushed against the -handle and it opened inwards. An open door is a sure sign of poverty. It -is a waste of time to lock a door on an empty house. Here where the -wealth of men was not kept, the purity of women could not be stolen. -Probably Death had effected his entrance before me, but he is one whom -no door can hold. I looked into the room.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p><p>How bare it looked! A guttering candle threw a dim light over the place -and showed up the nakedness of the apartment. The paper on the walls was -greasy to the height of a man's head and there was no picture or -ornament in the place to bring out one reviving thought. The floor was -dirty, worn, and uncarpeted; a pile of dead ashes was in the fireplace -and a frying-pan without a handle lay in one corner of the room. No -chair was to be seen. A pile of rags lay on the floor and these looked -as if they had been used for a bed. The window was open, probably to let -the air into the room, but instead of the pure fresh air, the smoke of a -neighbouring chimney stole into the chamber.</p> - -<p>This much did my eyes take in vaguely before I saw the truckle bed which -was placed along the wall near the window. On the bed a woman lay -asleep—or maybe dead! I approached quietly and stood by the bedside. I -was again looking at Norah, my sweetheart, grown fairer yet through sin -and sorrow. The face was white as the petals of some water flower, and -the shadow of the long wavy hair about it seemed to make it whiter -still. She was asleep and I stood there lost in contemplation of her, a -spirit which the first breeze might waft away. Her sleep was sound. I -could see her bosom rising and falling under the ragged coverlet and -could hear the even breath drawn softly in between the white lips now -despoiled of all the cherry redness of six years ago. Instinctively I -knew that the life of her was already broken in the grip of sorrow and -death.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she opened her soft grey eyes. In their calm and tragic depths -a strange lustre resembling nothing earthly shone for a moment. There -was in them the peace which had taken the place of vanished hopes and -the calm and sorrowful acceptance of an end far different from her -childish dreams.</p> - -<p>She started up in the bed and a startled look stole into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> her face. A -bright colour glowed faintly in her cheeks, and about her face there was -still the girlish grace of the Norah whom I had met years before on the -leading road to Greenanore.</p> - -<p>"I was dreamin' of ye, Dermod," she said in a low silvery voice. "Ye -were long in comin'."</p> - -<p>Sitting up with one elbow buried in the pillow, her chemise slipped from -her shoulders and her skin looked very pink and delicate under the -scattered locks of brown hair. I went down on my knees by the bedside -and clasped both her hands in mine. She was expecting me—waiting for -me.</p> - -<p>"Ellen told me that ye were lookin' for meself," she continued. "A man -came this mornin'."</p> - -<p>"I sent him, Norah," I said. "'Tis good to see you again, darling. I -have been looking for you such a long time."</p> - -<p>"Have ye?" was all her answer, and gripping my two big hands tightly -with her little ones she began to sob like a child.</p> - -<p>"It's the kindly way that ye have with ye, Dermod," she went on, sinking -back into the bed. Her tearless sobs were almost choking her and she -gazed up at the roof with sad, blank eyes. "Ye don't know what I am and -the kind of life I have been leadin' for a good lot of years, to come -and speak to me again. It's not for a decent man like ye to speak to the -likes of my kind! It's meself that has suffered a big lot, too, Dermod, -and I deserve pity more than hate. Me sufferin's would have broke the -heart of a cold mountainy stone."</p> - -<p>"Poor Norah! well do I know what you have suffered," I said. "I have -been looking for you for a long while and I want to make you happy now -that I have found you."</p> - -<p>"Make me happy!" she exclaimed, withdrawing her hands from mine. "What -would ye be doin' wantin' to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> make me happy? I'm dead to ev'rybody, to -the people at home, and to me own very mother! What would she want with -me now, me, her daughter, and the mother of a child that never had a -priest's blessin' on its head? A child without a lawful father! Think of -it, Dermod! What would the Glenmornan people say if they met me on the -streets? It was a dear child to me, it was. And ye are wantin' to make -me happy. Ev'ry time ye come ye say that ye are goin' to make me happy. -D'ye mind seein' me on the streets, Dermod?"</p> - -<p>"I remember it, Norah," I said. She had spoken of the times I came to -see her and I did not understand. Perhaps I came to her in dreams.</p> - -<p>"It was the child, Dermod," she rambled on; "it was the little boy and -he was dyin', both of a cough that was stickin' in his throat and of -starvation. I hadn't seen bread or that what buys it for many's a long -hour, even for days itself. I could not get work to do. I tried to beg, -but the peelis was goin' to put me in prison, and then there was nothin' -for me, Dermod, but to take to the streets.... There was long white -boats goin' out and we were watchin' them from the strand of Trienna -Bay, Dermod and me. I called him Dermod, but he never got the -christenin' words said over him or a drop of holy water.... Where is -Ellen? Ellen, ye're a good friend to me, ye are. The people that are sib -to meself do not care what happens to one of their own kind, but it's ye -yerself that has the good heart, Ellen. And ye say that Dermod Flynn is -comin' to see me? I would like to see him again.... I called me little -boy after him, too.... Little Dermod, I called him, and now he's dead -without the priest's blessin' ever put over him."</p> - -<p>"I'm here, Norah," I said, for I knew that her mind was wandering. "I am -here, Norah. I am Dermod Flynn. Do you know me now?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>The long lashes dropped over her eyes and hid them from my sight.</p> - -<p>"Norah, do you remember me?" I repeated. "I am Dermod, Dermod Flynn. Say -Dermod after me."</p> - -<p>She opened her eyes again and looked at me with a puzzled glance.</p> - -<p>"Is it ye, Dermod?" she cried. "I knew that ye were comin' to see me. I -was thinkin' of ye often and many's the time that I thought ye were -standin' be me bed quiet like and takin' a look at me. Ye're here now, -are ye? Say true as death."</p> - -<p>"True as death," I repeated after her. The phrase was a Glenmornan one.</p> - -<p>"Then where is Ellen and where is the man that came here this mornin' -and left a handful of money to help us along?" she asked. "He was a good -kindly man, givin' us so much money and maybe needin' it himself, too. -Joe was his name."</p> - -<p>"Moleskin Joe," I said.</p> - -<p>"There were three men on the street and they made fun of me when I was -passin' them," said Norah, and her mind was wandering again. "And one of -the men caught me and I tried to get away and I struggled and fought. -For wasn't I forgiven for me sins at the chapel that day and I was goin' -to be a good woman all the rest of me life? I told the men to let me -alone and one of them kicked me and I fell on the cold street. No one -came to help me. Who would care at all, at all, for a woman like me? The -very peelis will not give me help. 'Twas Ellen that picked me up when -the last gasp was almost in me mouth. And she has been the good friend -to me ever since. Sittin' up at night be me side and workin' her fingers -to the bone for me durin' the livelong day. Ellen, ye're very good to -me."</p> - -<p>"Ellen is not here, Norah," I said, and the tears were running down my -cheek.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p><p>I placed my hand on Norah's forehead, which was cold as marble, and at -that moment somebody entered the room. I was aware of the presence of -the newcomer, but never looked round. Norah's face now wore a look of -calm repose and her lashes falling slowly hid the far-away look in her -grey eyes. For a moment I thought that she held silent council with the -angels.</p> - -<p>I was still aware of the presence. Somebody came forward, bent tenderly -over the bed and softly brushed the stray tresses back from Norah's -brow. It was the woman, Gourock Ellen. At that moment I felt myself an -intruder, one who was looking on things too sacred for his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Norah, are you asleep?" Ellen asked, and there was no answer.</p> - -<p>"Norah! Norah!" The woman of the streets bent closer to the girl in the -bed and pressed her hand to Norah's heart.</p> - -<p>"Have ye come back, Ellen?" Norah asked, in a quiet voice without -opening her eyes. "I was dreamin' in the same old way. I saw him comin' -back again. He was standin' be me bed and he was very kind, like he -always was."</p> - -<p>"He's here, little lass," answered Ellen; then to me, "Speak to her, -man! She's been wearin' her heart awa' thinkin' of you for a lang, lang, -weary while. Speak to her and we'll save her yet. She's just wanderin' a -bit in her heid."</p> - -<p>"Then it's not dreamin' that I was!" cried Norah. "It's Dermod himself -that's in it and back again. Just comin' to see me! It's himself that -has the kindly Glenmornan heart and always had. Dermod, Dermod!"</p> - -<p>Her voice became low and strained and I bent closer to catch her words.</p> - -<p>"It was ye that I was thinkin' of all the time and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> was foolish when -we were workin' with Micky's Jim. It's all me fault and sorrow is on me -because I made ye suffer. Maybe ye'll go home some day. If ye do, go to -me mother's house and ask her to forgive me. Tell her that I died on the -year I left Micky's Jim's squad. I was not me mother's child after that; -I was dead to all the world. My fault could not be undone—that's what -made the blackness of it: Niver let yer own sisters go into a strange -country, Dermod. Niver let them go to the potato-squad, for it's the -place that is evil for a girl like me that hasn't much sense. Ye're not -angry with me, Dermod, are ye?"</p> - -<p>"Norah, I was never angry with you," I said, and I kissed her lips. They -were hot as fire. "Darling, you didn't think that I was angry with you?"</p> - -<p>"No, Dermod, for it's ye that has the kindly way!" said the poor girl. -"Would ye do something for me if iver ye go back to yer own place?"</p> - -<p>"Anything you ask, Norah," I answered, "and anything within my power to -do."</p> - -<p>"Will ye get a mass said for me in the chapel at home, a mass for the -repose of me soul?" she asked. "If ye do I'll be very happy."</p> - -<p>When I raised my head, Moleskin was in the room. He had stolen in -quietly, tired of waiting, and perhaps curious to see the end. He -removed his cap and stood in the middle of the floor and looked -curiously around. Norah sat up in bed and beckoned Ellen to approach.</p> - -<p>She opened her mouth as if to speak, but there was a rattle in her -throat, her teeth chattered, her hands opened and closed like those of a -drowning man who clutches at floating sedge, and she dropped back to the -pillow. Ellen and I hastened to help her, and laid her down quietly on -the bed. Her eyes were open, her mouth wide apart showing two rows of -white teeth. The spirit of the girl I loved had passed away. Without -doubt, outside and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> over the smoke of the large city, a great angel with -outspread wings was waiting for her soul.</p> - -<p>I was conscious of a great relief. Death, the universal comforter, had -smoothed out things in a way that was best for the little girl, who knew -the deep sorrows of an erring woman when only a child.</p> - -<p>Joe looked awkwardly around. There was something weighing on his mind. -Presently he touched me on the arm.</p> - -<p>"Would there be any harm in me goin' down on my knees and sayin' a -prayer?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No harm, Joe," I said, as I knelt again by the bedside.</p> - -<p>Ellen and Joe went down on their knees beside me. Outside the sounds of -the city were loud in the air. An organ-grinder played his organ on the -pavement; a crowd of youngsters passed by, roaring out a comic song. -Norah lay peacefully in the Great Sleep. I could neither think nor pray. -My eyes were riveted on the dead woman.</p> - -<p>The candle made a final splutter and went out. Inside the room there was -complete darkness. Joe hardly breathed, and not knowing a prayer, he was -silent. From time to time I could hear loud sobs, the words of a great -prayer—the heart prayer of a stricken woman. Gourock Ellen was weeping.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dead End, by Patrick MacGill - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END *** - -***** This file should be named 50324-h.htm or 50324-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/2/50324/ - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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