Part 12 (2/2)

But still the Major was convinced that he was stronger than Edward. It was simply that Edward was so hearty and extroverted these days (but the Major had not forgotten the days when he was moody) that he made the Major seem dull and cautious by comparison. ”It's all show,” the Major would think lugubriously as he noticed that Sarah's glistening eyes seldom left Edward's face. But then, crack! It would happen again. He scarcely had time to build up his animosity before he would be forced to laugh grudgingly at whatever Edward was saying. ”Very funny!” he would mutter to himself. ”But we shall see...” Once or twice since the day that Edward had been set upon in the dark the Major had seen a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, he was sure of it. ”We shall see what we shall see.” And to his surprise he found that he was grinding his teeth. ”Good heavens, the fellow is my friend after all,” he reproved himself.

”If I haven't an ace in this hand I'll eat my pipe,” cried Edward. And sure enough he pulled out a pipe and wolfed it in a flash. The ladies shrieked and gasped in pain, holding their ribs, so funny did they find this (the pipe, of course, had been made of liquorice). The Major watched them with dismay, afraid that Edward might give them all heart attacks. But in between these humorous sallies the Major more and more often believed he could discern a lost and frantic look on Edward's face. Sarah too sometimes stared at him with concern when she was not laughing at his antics. But then Edward would leave the room to attend to some business and everyone would feel dull and dispirited once again.

”It's a scandal!”

Silence fell immediately, an absolute silence in which everyone held his breath and the throbbing purr of the kitten could be distinctly heard. Mrs Rappaport had gone unnoticed for such a long time that they had almost forgotten that she could speak.

”You think that I don't know what's going on in this house,” shouted the old lady, her jowls quivering with fury. ”I shall not stand for it under this roof!”

The Major expected Edward to soothe her as he usually did, to ask her what was the scandal, what it was that she wouldn't stand for. But he said nothing. His eyes remained on the table. n.o.body said a word for two full minutes. There was no movement except for the flicking of the kitten's ringed tail on Mrs Rappaport's lap. But at last her shoulders drooped, she sniffed and felt for the handkerchief tucked into her sleeve, her face went vacant once more. She had forgotten about her scandal, whatever it was.

But her outburst had a strange effect on Edward. He became morose and taciturn. Not only did he stop making jokes and infecting the ladies with hilarity, in a day or two he stopped playing cards altogether. Without any warning he abandoned the field to the Major. The Major was pleased, of course, since this meant that he could exercise his more subtle charm on Sarah without impediment, but somehow disturbed as well. Edward had begun to drink more than was good for him. More than once the Major had caught a whiff of liquor on his breath. One day he heard that Edward had been drunk at the Golf Club. He had got into an argument with one of the members and told him he was ”worthless.” Of course such things happen from time to time and a man in his cups is not to be taken seriously. But then, perhaps a week later, it happened again, this time at the Majestic. Edward, impeccably dressed as ever but with his mane of grey hair in disorder and a gla.s.s in his hand, confronted Mr Norton in the corridor and told him he was ”worthless.” Mr Norton fled indignantly to the residents' lounge but Edward, gla.s.s still in hand, followed him there and, although he did not say anything, stared at Mr Norton with a sarcastic smile, looking himself (as Miss Porteous later put it) like ”The Wreck of the Hesperus.” Presently, however, he tired of Mr Norton and, slumped in an armchair, stared balefully at the Major.

”Always playing cards with the ladies, Major?”

”That's right, Edward.”

”Fine occupation for a young man.” The Major said nothing.

”I said it was a fine occupation for a young man.”

”I heard you.”

”Well, I take it you agree with me.”

”Edward, please!” Sarah said. She had become very pale. She stared at Edward anxiously. The other ladies had become as quiet as mice.

”I'm sure you you think it's a good idea to have young men playing cards with you,” Edward said harshly. ”I want to hear what the Major thinks.” think it's a good idea to have young men playing cards with you,” Edward said harshly. ”I want to hear what the Major thinks.”

”Very well,” the Major said curtly. ”I think it's better than being in the trenches. Does that answer your question?” With that he put down his cards, got to his feet and strode out of the room.

SOUTH AFRICAN AFFAIRSThe Union of South Africa is pa.s.sing through a period of stress and danger. On Sat.u.r.day last serious rioting broke out in Port Elizabeth...The police showed admirable restraint but were powerless to cope with the frenzied crowd of maddened natives. Military came on the scene and opened fire, killing several of the rioters ...Every effort is being made to localize the trouble, but, in view of the fact that in the whole Union there are only one and a quarter millions of white people as compared with four and a half millions of natives, the possibilities of widespread disturbances cannot be ignored.The dangers of a native rising are much greater than they would be if the white population were united... To the Kaffir, Boer and Briton, Nationalist and Unionist, German and South African, are alike. There is not a white man in South Africa who does not recognize to the full the perils that lie dormant in the n.i.g.g.e.rs' kraals. There is not a white woman from the Congo to the Cape who does not shudder at the thought of a native rising, and there is hardly a native in the country who would not rise tomorrow if he dared.

THE CAMPAIGN OF CRIMEThe guerrilla warfare against the forces of the Crown has become general outside North-East Ulster. Already the R.I.C. has suffered as heavily as if it had held a front-line trench in France. Its efficiency is maintained only by its own indomitable spirit and by constant reinforcements...The last three days have produced a truly appalling orgy of blood-stained lawlessness. In different parts of the country policemen have been a.s.sa.s.sinated and soldiers killed in ambush; every Irish newspaper has been turned into a catalogue of horror.

It was now that the first of the great autumn storms began to blow. The wind whistled in the chimneys and immense breakers rolled in to smash against the sea-wall, kicking clouds of white spray high into the air. Spray drenched the gravel paths and dashed against the squash court, so that Edward was in a state of constant anxiety lest his piglets (now as big as spaniels) be drowned. A great quant.i.ty of rain-water collected on the sagging flat roof of the Prince Consort wing and presently it relaxed under the pressure, allowing a cascade to empty itself with a musical roar into a grand piano which had been left open and on its side, with one leg amputated. By this time, in any case, the Auxiliaries billeted at the Majestic had removed to a barracks at Valebridge, either because the accommodation there was superior or because they judged the hotel indefensible.

”There are a devil of a lot of people about,” Edward remarked to the Major as they motored out to the golf links. ”Something must be up.”

There was a high wind, almost a gale, howling over the countryside, but the rain had abated. The roads were thick with people and vehicles, ponies and traps, carts with giant lumbering horses in the shafts, even some battered motor cars-pa.s.sengers crammed inside and out, on the bonnet, on the running-board, even on the roof-bicycles pedalling in and out or way up on the gra.s.s verge with bells ringing-and hundreds of people on foot. It might have been an annual fair or point-to-point; but there was no talking or laughter, no singing, these crowds moved in silence, like refugees the Major had seen moving back from the Front.

”What a rabble!” he thought unsympathetically. He hated the Irish. He stared at the faces that floated by as the Daimler inched its way through against the tide of humanity sounding its horn. Dull, granitic faces, cheekbones sculpted like axe-handles, purple cheeks and matted hair, bovine, the women huge and heavy-breasted, arms dimpled and swollen like loaves of bread. But no, they did not look like refugees; in their faces he read a strained, expectant look. Something was up. The Major shouted at a toothless old man dangling his legs on the back of a cart to ask him what it was all about. But the fellow did not seem to understand, merely touched his forelock and looked away furtively.

”Yes,” he was saying to Edward, ”I've written to Cook's to ask about hotels in Florence, but I may move farther south.”

Edward's face darkened, as if he were thinking: ”Disloyalty!”, but he said nothing. The Major listened to the echo and re-echo of his own words and thought how false they sounded, how hollow! He no longer had the will-power to leave Kilnalough without Sarah; all he could do now was allow himself to drift with the tide of events. Some strange insect had taken up residence in the will-power of which he had always been so proud, eating away at it un.o.bserved like a slug in an apple.

At the golf links they heard about the miracle. n.o.body was out playing golf and for once there were no caddies to be found. But the Members' Bar was overflowing and there was an unusual air of excitement, with much laughter and joking. Only that corner of the bar where the Auxiliaries were normally to be seen remained empty. They'd gone off to perform a miracle of their own, someone said.

Boy O'Neill told them what had happened. Late on Sat.u.r.day night a young seminarian, kneeling in front of a crucifix in prayer, had seen drops of blood flowing from the wounds of the Christ-figure. For a number of hours he had remained there in a state of ecstasy, unable to speak or move.

This miracle was clearly anti-British. Some member of the seminarian's family had been accused of complicity in the ambush of an R.I.C. constable. It was said in Kilnalough that the lad's family had been abused and threatened, dragged out of their cottage by the Tans and lined up against a wall as if to be shot; his sister had been made to dance in her night-s.h.i.+ft in front of her father while the Tans made lewd remarks and jeered at her. Under such provocation of devout people a miracle was only to be expected.

”What d'you make of it, Boy?”

”Mumbo-jumbo.”

”Of course it's mumbo-jumbo, that's obvious...What I mean is: are the beggars going to cause trouble? G.o.d knows, things are bad enough already without having a holy war on our hands.”

”Och, it's just a bit of nonsense. In a day or two they'll have forgotten about it. But look who's just come in, Ted. You'd have thought he'd be spending the day on his knees in front of the miracle.”

The Major turned. Mr Devlin had just come in and was standing uncomfortably at the door, smiling ingratiatingly in the direction of a group at the bar who, by accident or design, had turned their backs on him. Sarah was standing beside her father. For a moment her eyes met the Major's but her face remained expressionless. Mr Devlin, in turn, caught the Major's eye and began to make frantic signals of respectful greeting: would he be permitted to join the Major and his companions and perhaps have the honour of purchasing them a refreshment? The Major nodded curtly.

O'Neill said: ”I do believe the awful fellow is coming over here.”

”I invited him,” the Major said coldly.

”Well, well, you don't say...”

Sarah, sullen and with downcast eyes, hesitated for a moment before accompanying her father. She barely moved her lips in response to the Major's greeting. Captain Bolton had come in silently behind the Devlins and followed them over to where Edward, O'Neill and the Major were standing. Boy O'Neill, meanwhile, was maliciously asking Mr Devlin what he thought of the miracle. Did he agree that it was mumbo-jumbo? Mr Devlin said cautiously that he really didn't know what to think, it was such a strange business.

”But you'd better believe what they tell you to believe, Devlin, isn't that right? Or else the priest will send you to h.e.l.lfire, eh?” O'Neill, barking with aggressive laughter, was somewhat drunk, the Major realized. ”So you don't think it's mumbo-jumbo then?”

Well, of course, in such matters one would want to be careful, because there was perhaps more to it than met the eye, at least, to his way of thinking...

”To your way of thinking but not to mine. If you ask me it's a plain case of hysteria.”

”Well now,” began Devlin helplessly, ”I'm not sure about that...”

”If there's hysteria it's because innocent people are having their houses burned down,” burst out the Major suddenly.

Bolton said: ”There are no innocent people in Ireland these days, Major. If you put on a uniform like this you'll find that everyone's your enemy.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Bolton added: ”If any of you are brave enough to be seen with a man in the uniform of the Crown perhaps you'd care to come out to the seminary with me. I'm afraid that the s.h.i.+nners are using your miracle to do some rabble-rousing with. It's a strange feeling to be in the middle of a crowd of innocent people, Major, any of whom may instantly become a hero by pulling a gun from his pocket and shooting you in the back without fear of being caught...How about you, Mr O'Neill? Would you like to come with me?”

”I'd be delighted any other time, but I've arranged to meet my wife.”

”Too bad.” Bolton smiled faintly.

There was silence for a moment. Sarah had at last lifted her eyes and was looking with amus.e.m.e.nt from one face to another. Bolton's eyelids drooped sleepily.

”Of course I'm probably exaggerating the danger,” he added indifferently. ”There may not be a single person with a gun in the whole crowd.” He paused again and his eyes flicked towards Edward. ”How about it, Mr Spencer?”

”I really can't see the point in taking foolhardy risks,” Edward said harshly. ”That's the first thing they teach you in the army.”

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