Читать книгу Adventurers of the Night - James Owen Hannay - Страница 5

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Patterson was perfectly right about one thing. The Floyds really did want to go to Inisheeny. Molly began to inquire how to get there before she was an hour in Carrigahooly. She started with Mrs. Maher; naturally enough, for an hotel keeper is usually willing and anxious to give that sort of information to guests. Mrs. Maher owns an excellent boat, one of the best of our little fishing fleet. She is not fitted out as a yacht, and is therefore not particularly comfortable for pleasure sailing. But the passage to Inisheeny is not a long one, and might perfectly well be made in the "Seven Daughters." That is the name of Mrs. Maher's boat. It comes from a Holy Well near the ruins of Kildoyne Abbey, which is called the Well of the Seven Daughters of the King of Britain. But any allusion to the father of the girls has to be left out in naming the boat. It does not do in Carrigahooly to be suspected of the slightest tendency towards loyalty.

Mrs. Maher did not offer to lend or hire her boat to the Floyds. This surprised me when I heard it. I should have expected her to offer the boat at once--at a high price--and to provide a crew--also at a high price. She could easily have done so. Her stable boy is an amphibious animal who often goes fishing, and Poacher Quin is always ready for a trip to the island.

Instead of earning money by making it easy for the Floyds to go to Inisheeny, Mrs. Maher did her best to persuade Molly that it was impossible to go to Inisheeny at all, and very undesirable even if it could be done. She adopted the tone of a benevolent mother, anxious about Molly's welfare. Dr. Floyd, I understand, took no part in the discussion. He sat in the abominable chamber which Mrs. Maher calls a coffee room, and read papers--not newspapers, but piles of manuscript.

After her failure with Mrs. Maher, Molly did nothing more that night, but she got to work early the next morning. That is scarcely to be wondered at, even if there were no truth in Patterson's suspicions. A supper, a bed, and a breakfast in Mrs. Maher's hotel would make anyone eager to sleep somewhere else the next night. I can quite understand a stranger feeling that Inisheeny must be a more comfortable place to stay.

After breakfast Dr. Floyd settled down again to his MS. Molly, who was evidently in command of the expedition, went out. She left the hotel, according to Mrs. Maher, at half-past eight. Before eleven o'clock she had talked to everyone of any importance in Carrigahooly except Patterson and me. There are eight people in the place, besides Mrs. Maher, who own fishing boats. Molly Floyd got at them all. She found some of them standing on the pier with their hands in their pockets, putting in their eight hours' day. Others she tracked to their houses, and one man she found in bed. They were curiously unanimous in their refusal to take Molly and her father out to Inisheeny on any terms. Refusal is perhaps the wrong word to use. No one definitely refused; but every one of the men pointed out that the difficulties in the way of going to Inisheeny were insuperable. The men on the pier agreed that the tides in Carrigahooly Bay made sailing impossible. Ever since the Congested Districts Board had built the pier on which they stood, the tides had gone wrong, so they said, and nobody could calculate from hour to hour what would happen. The men whom Molly found in their houses were less unanimous, and none of them blamed the tide. One of them said that it was impossible to land at Inisheeny except with an east wind, and that the wind was never east except in May. Another mentioned a school of whales which had established themselves in the bay, and smashed up any boats which ventured out, by flapping their tails. The man whom Molly found in bed was, perhaps, too sleepy to be imaginative. He said simply that there was a large hole in the bottom of his boat, which he could not get mended on account of a recent strike organised by the Transport Workers' Union.

Molly did not believe a word the men said to her; though she understood that they would not take her and her father out to Inisheeny. But she saw the "Aurora" lying at her moorings, and made up her mind that, since fishing boats were not to be had, she must put up with a yacht. She called on Dr. Redington, thinking that he might be the owner of the "Aurora." He received her coldly, disappointed, perhaps, that she was not a patient with a fee in her pocket. He did not even tell her who the "Aurora" belonged to.

She next went to the office of Farrelly, the solicitor, and found him there. This was a stroke of luck, for Farrelly is very seldom to be found in his office. He somehow manages to conduct a lucrative business without tying himself down to any regular hours of work. But Farrelly did not help her. She seems to have asked him at once for the name of the owner of the "Aurora," and Farrelly is far too good a lawyer to give a straight answer to a direct question of that kind. The consequence of answering questions may be serious and unpleasant, whereas no harm can come of not answering them. Lawyers, all over the world, understand that. In the west of Ireland, everybody else understands it too. So Molly's chances of getting information from Farrelly were exceedingly small.

She went down to the quay again after leaving Farrelly's office, and found my nephew, Tommy, there, putting off to the "Aurora" in the dinghy. When Tommy has nothing particular to do, and cannot persuade either me or Patterson to go out sailing, he goes off to the boat and spends a few hours quite happily playing about with the sails and gear.

Molly shouted to him, and Tommy, who has excellent manners, rowed back to the pier to find out what she wanted. They seem to have made friends at once. It must have been Molly's gaiety and cheerfulness which won his heart. He is hardly old enough to be fascinated by a pretty face. He told Molly that the "Aurora" belonged to me, and promised without the slightest hesitation that I would lend her for an expedition to Inisheeny. I can hardly blame him for that. I am always willing to lend the boat, and Tommy did not know that I had already promised her to Patterson. Besides, he saw a good chance of a day's sailing for himself. His idea was that he and Poacher Quin should manage the boat. Molly was, of course, delighted. She and Tommy left the harbour together to make arrangements for the expedition.

At eleven o'clock I strolled down to the village. I meant to go to the hotel, and I had a very good excuse for going there. I wanted some tobacco, and Mrs. Maher keeps a supply of the kind I smoke. But the tobacco, as I knew perfectly well, was only an excuse. What I really wanted was to gossip with Mrs. Maher, and to hear all she could tell me about the Floyds.

As I passed down the street Tommy rushed out of Mahony's shop and caught me by the arm. Mahony's is our chief shop and a very excellent one. You can buy anything there from a bicycle to a pot of jam. Tommy, I supposed, was in search of sweets, or perhaps, cigarettes, which he has lately taken to.

"Uncle Terence," he said, "I suppose it's all right for me to take out the 'Aurora' if I get Quin to come with me?"

"I'm sorry, Tommy," I said; "but you can't have the 'Aurora.' I've promised her to Patterson."

Tommy's face fell. I could see that he was really disappointed.

"That's a pity," he said. "I was frightfully keen on getting the boat to-day. In fact----"

He paused, and looked so dejected that I felt very sorry for him. After all Tommy has rather a dull time of it with me. Spraying pear trees is hardly a schoolboy's idea of amusement. There is no cricket, and hardly any tennis in Carrigahooly. If he could not use the "Aurora"----

"Perhaps Patterson won't want her to-day," he suggested. "Anyhow, he might put off whatever he wants her for. Next week ought to do him quite well. Don't you think so?"

He looked at me pleadingly, and Tommy has nice brown eyes, like a setter's.

"Now if I can't have her to-day," he said, "it will be no use my having her at all."

"Nonsense, Tommy," I said. "The mackerel have only just come into the bay. There'll be more of them next week."

I still thought he wanted to go fishing, and I could not understand why he was in such a hurry.

"I'm not going to fish," he said. "At least, I may, but that's not what I want the boat for. The fact is, I promised----"

He stopped there and did not go on, though I waited some time. I tried to help him out.

"Promised what?" I asked.

"Oh, well. I promised to take her out to Inisheeny."

I suppose I was stupid, but I thought Tommy meant the boat by "her." I had not the least idea, up to that moment, that there was a girl in the affair.

"Who did you promise to?" I asked.

Tommy was a little embarrassed.

"The fact is, Uncle Terence," he said, "that I don't know her name. I never thought of asking. But she wants to go out to Inisheeny--she and her father--and I promised you'd lend them the Aurora.'"

"I don't see how I can keep your promise to her," I said, "without breaking my own to Patterson."

I felt pretty sure who Tommy's girl must be. I remembered what Patterson had said to me the night before about the Floyds wanting to go to Inisheeny. If they were the sort of people he thought them I was certainly not going to lend them my yacht. And I did not like the idea of my nephew ferrying revolutionaries off to remote islands.

"She's an awfully nice girl," said Tommy, "a real good sort, you know, just the kind of girl that you wouldn't think was a girl when she's talking to you. Much more like a boy."

Tommy is still young. In another four years or so, the "awfully nice" girls will be those who are more or less like girls. There was something so refreshingly boyish in his appreciation of Molly Floyd that I felt it harder than ever to disappoint him.

"All right," I said. "I don't really mind which of you has the boat. Speak to Patterson yourself, and arrange it any way you like between you."

I felt pretty certain that Patterson would not surrender the "Aurora" if he knew that she was to be used for taking the Floyds out to Inisheeny. But the unpleasantness of refusing Tommy would be his, not mine.

"I wish you'd ask him," said Tommy. "He'd be much more likely to give her up if you asked him."

That was true. Indeed Patterson could not well refuse me the use of my own boat if I asked for it. But I was not going to do any such thing. I hardened my heart.

"No, no," I said. "I can't spend my time running round and round after Patterson. If you want the boat you must ask him for it."

I left Tommy there, feeling very sorry for him, and walked down to the hotel. I found Mrs. Maher doing accounts in the little room she calls her office. She got the tobacco I wanted at once. Then she began to talk.

"That's a nice young lady you sent me," she said. "And her father is a very quiet sort of a gentleman."

"I'm glad you like them," I said, "but you needn't thank me for sending them. I hadn't anything to do with their coming here. I never spoke to either of them in my life."

"Well, now, think of that!" said Mrs. Maher. "I made sure they were friends of yours and Mr. Patterson's when I saw the way you were running to get into the train along with them at Dunally yesterday."

I knew that Mrs. Maher did not suspect me of chasing a girl's pretty face at a railway station. She knows me too well to think that of me. But I also knew that she did not believe me when I said that I knew nothing about the Floyds.

"It was only this minute," said Mrs. Maher, "that she was telling me about how you were lending her your boat to go out to Inisheeny. And to tell you the truth, I was rather wondering at your doing the like, for the father doesn't look as if he knew much about boats, and the young lady is hardly one that I'd care to be trusting on the sea by herself."

"I don't know what she meant by saying that," I said. "I'm not lending her the boat. As a matter of fact I've lent her to Mr. Patterson."

"That'll be it, then," said Mrs. Maher. "Mr. Patterson will be taking the young lady out to Inisheeny."

She had evidently absolved me of all connexion with the Floyds, and made up her mind that they were friends of Mr. Patterson's. I knew, of course, that Patterson had not the least intention of taking them out to Inisheeny, that he was, in fact, most anxious to keep them away from the island. I said as much to Mrs. Maher, but she did not believe me; she thought, perhaps, that Patterson had kept his intention secret from me and borrowed the boat without mentioning the Floyds. But she had no doubt that he had brought them down to Carrigahooly with the intention of taking them out to Inisheeny. It was evident that Mrs. Maher did not recognise them as emissaries of any secret society. I began to think that Patterson must be wrong about that.

"The young lady was at me last night," said Mrs. Maher, "for the lend of my boat to go out to the island. But she didn't get it."

"Why not?" I asked.

Mrs. Maher did not answer that question.

"And she was out this morning," she went on, "galloping and chasing round the town to try could she get e'er a boat at all. But there wasn't one in the place would listen to her."

"Why not?" I asked again.

Mrs. Maher looked at me, and I could discern, as it were, behind her eyes, a message which she seemed to think I should be able to read. But I did not understand in the least what she meant. All she said was:

"Inisheeny is no place for a young lady like her, nor yet for an old gentleman."

That, of course, is quite true. Even Mrs. Maher's own hotel would be far more comfortable than any of the houses on Inisheeny, but that was plainly not what was in Mrs. Maher's mind. I got the impression that she was afraid that the visit might be inconvenient, not to the Floyds, but to the islanders.

"And what would they be wanting there, anyway?" said Mrs. Maher.

I did not know that; any more than I knew why Mrs. Maher and all the Carrigahooly fishermen declined to earn good money by hiring out their boats.

"And what does Mr. Patterson want to be taking them there for? Tell me that."

Again the look of secret intelligence appeared in Mrs. Maher's green eyes. Again I totally failed to understand it.

"Mr. Patterson doesn't want to take them there," I said. "He told me so himself."

"Them police," said Mrs. Maher, "is terrible liars. But, sure, I suppose they can't help it. Only I don't think they should be deceiving a man like your Reverence, who'd believe anything anyone might say to him."

Telling lies to a simple, innocent man like me was evidently, in Mrs. Maher's opinion, an unsporting act, like shooting a sitting bird; something Patterson ought to be ashamed of. I found myself a little puzzled. The Floyds, father and daughter, had come to Carrigahooly and wanted to go to Inisheeny. Patterson thought he knew why. They were, in his opinion, agents of some revolutionary society concerned with the landing of arms on the island, and were anxious to murder the police. Mrs. Maher, an ardent Sinn Feiner, if one can judge by the flag she flies over her hotel, also thought she knew why the Floyds wanted to go to Inisheeny. She did not confide her idea to me, but she certainly believed that they were in close touch with the police, perhaps spies from Dublin Castle. For some reason she and every fisherman in Carrigahooly were specially anxious, just as anxious as Patterson was, to keep them out of Inisheeny. I do not believe, though Patterson does, that Mrs. Maher is mixed up in any treasonable conspiracy. She seems to me too sensible a woman to take politics seriously, except as a means of making money. And there is no money to be made by going to extremes and defying the law. I was quite in the dark about her motives. The only thing I really understood was Tommy's wish to go out sailing with an "awfully nice" girl, the kind of girl you wouldn't think was a girl when she was talking to you. It was easy to see that such a companion might be very attractive.

I knew more about Molly's attractiveness and her force of character half an hour later.