THE FEAR OF THE SHILLELAGH.
The coal-merchant was a man of his word. He was hard and cruel and
unkind, but in his own way he was proud of Tilly. Those people whom he
was most proud of he liked to train, and he was under the impression
that he trained his daughter Matilda very well. When he beat her, which
he did constantly; when he scolded her, he quoted to himself the old
words, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." He felt he was following in
the footsteps of Holy Writ. He thought himself a very blessed man.
Now in addition to all this scolding and beating on the part of
the coal-merchant with regard to Matilda Raynes, there was also a
strange feeling of absolute indifference towards her stepmother. Her
stepmother's name was Harriet; and Joshua Raynes thought very little of
Harriet. In consequence he left her alone. She was only useful in the
matter of helping him to train Matilda, but he never fussed over his
second wife, and, as far as possible, let her go her own way.
Harriet Raynes quickly discovered that nothing excited Joshua Raynes so
much as to talk about Tilly, more in especial to talk _against_ Tilly.
He used to listen with his staring eyes fixed on his wife's face and
say "Good little woman" and then go upstairs and prove things to his
own satisfaction and beat Tilly because he loved her enough to consider
beating essential.
She would be a very rich woman by-and-bye, for the coal-merchant did a
thriving business and all his money he put by for Tilly. That was the
one joy of his life. He could hurt her and torture her and yet in his
queer, unaccountable way, she was the only creature he loved.
He was quite determined, however, to get to the bottom of the Irish
story. If the thing was true, the girl who put on airs and kept a shop
should be publicly disgraced and he would do it. He would enjoy doing
it very much. He couldn't hurt the little shopkeeper--not physically,
at least--but he could make her feel bad, and this he was determined
to do. Mr. Desmond should feel bad, too, forsooth! What name did Tilly
call him--"The"--if you please! He had never heard of anything so
ridiculous in his life. He'd soon knock "The" out of the old curmudgeon.
It was a calm night when Joshua Raynes took the boat from Fishguard to
Rosslare. He did not go through the miseries his child had undergone
and he steamed away through the calm waters in a boat at least three
times the size. He had never been in Ireland in his life before, and
when he arrived at Rosslare was much bothered with the tongue employed
by the good-natured country folks.
He said, "Eh, eh, what do you want to tell me?" over and over again.
He told each individual he met that the said individual was stony
deaf, and also dumb. The Irish person, be it man or woman, gossoon or
girleen, objected to his manner, refused to be considered deaf and dumb
when he could sphake the beautiful tongue--the Irish, bedad--to say
nothing of that paltry tongue, the English.
Joshua felt himself getting crosser and crosser each moment. What was
he to do? How was he to hold out? How was he to find the man called
Desmond who had spoken evil things of his Tilly? He did not in the
least admire the beauty of the country. He had no eye for the green of
the Emerald Isle nor her lofty mountains, nor her flowing streams and
rushing rivers.
He talked so angrily that people left him alone and the train that
should have taken him to Mallow went off without him. He might have
lingered at Waterford goodness knows how long, waiting for a man of
the name of Desmond and trying to talk to stone-deaf and dumb people,
who only talked gibberish, when a bright-eyed, sparkling-looking
individual came suddenly on the platform, stared at Joshua, said a few
words to the people round and presently came up and introduced himself.
"I am told ye are lookin' for The Desmond," he said. "You won't find
his high, great mightiness standing in a bit of a shanty like this. I'm
Malachi Desmond, son of The Desmond. I've just had a big sale of horses
this morning and am going back to Desmondstown in a quarter of an hour.
If you want to see The Desmond I've no manner of objection."
"I want to see _Mr._ Desmond of Desmondstown," said the coal-merchant.
"There isn't such a person. _Mr._ Desmond! For the Lord's sake, man, ye
are mighty ignorant!"
"Am I, sir? Well, I don't want you to tell me what I am, and what I am
not."
"Then you listen to me," said Malachi. "The Desmond is next door to a
king, and he lives in his kingdom, and I'm his son, Malachi. Be the
powers! I wonder if you're the father of that nasty little bit-thing
that stuck pins in the saddle of Starlight. I wouldn't be a scrap
surprised if you were, nor flustered neither. You've got the same
malicious gleam of the eye. We have cats at Desmondstown and _I'm_
one."
"You are a very big cat," said Joshua.
"Well, I'm one when I like. Do ye want to see The Desmond or do ye not?"
"There isn't such a name, it is silly," said the coal-merchant.
"Don't ye talk in that sort of way in old Ireland," said Malachi, "for
at a wink from me, _the cat_, we'll have all the boys out with their
shillelaghs. You'd best be careful what you say in our country. The
Desmond _is_ The Desmond, and he is royal king of Desmondstown. By the
same token, here's our train. Are ye coming along with me or are ye
not?"
"I'm coming along," said Joshua. "I'm a man of my word. It's a wild,
bad country, but I'm coming along all the same. I want to knock 'The'
out of a certain person and I'll do it my own way."
"We'll see about that," said Malachi. "Remember the big cat never
sleeps."
"Oh, you are all mad in this dreadful place," said Joshua. "I can't
make out what you are driving at, but I'll come with you, for I think I
can take down your pride a bit."
"Oh, to be sure, that's a fine thing to do," said Malachi. "Here's an
empty, third-class carriage we can have all to ourselves. You might
begin pulling out my pride at once. It is stuck very deep, its roots
go far and they twist and they turn; and by the powers; they twist and
turn again. But if ye give a long pull and a strong pull maybe ye'll
have some of them out before I begin to scratch."
The coal-merchant was now quite certain that Malachi was mad, but he
kept his object well in view and determined not to show outward fear
of him. They started on their journey and before they got to Mallow,
Joshua discovered two things about Malachi: first, that he could
understand his language; and second, that he was a real clever man, for
nothing so thoroughly impressed the coal-merchant with cleverness as
the sight of gold and notes.
Malachi pulled out a quantity of money from his pocket; in fact, some
hundreds of pounds. This money had been paid partly in notes, and
partly in sovereigns and was given for a horse called _Nora Crena_ and
another horse called _A Bit of Herself_ and another horse again called
_Brian the Brave_. He had made well on these horses but he was very
sorry to part with _Brian the Brave_.
Joshua sat and looked at the man; he looked also at the gold and began
to respect him. At Mallow they changed trains and again were lucky
enough to have one to themselves. Then Malachi bent forward and said in
a grave and very determined voice,
"Now what may you be wanting to see The Desmond for?"
"He's not The Desmond," said Joshua.
"He is. Let that drop. Anyhow what do you want to see him for?"
"He has turned my child out of his house; he told her to go and she was
all but drowned on the deep sea."
"She stuck ten pins into the saddle of Starlight," remarked Malachi.
"She did it to injure our pushkeen. It was proved against her and she
couldn't deny it. If your name is Raynes, you're a great horseman, I
take it."
"Horseman, not I! I never sat on a horse in my life."
"Dear! To be sure! Your girl rode elegant."
"Did she?" answered Raynes, feeling a little proud in spite of himself.
"She did that, she rode like a sylph. I didn't think at first she had
it in her, but she was like a bird on Starlight. You see it was this
way. I was having one of my cat's snoozes in Starlight's loose box.
Starlight wasn't properly broken in at that time, and I was mighty
feared to put any young gurrl on him who didn't understand the nature
of the beast."
"You were right there," growled Raynes.
"Well, so I thought I was. And when your bit girleen come and said to
me, 'Let me ride Starlight,' I says 'No, I value your precious life too
much.'"
"Quite right, too, quite right, too," said Joshua.
"Then you see she was a bit put out, and no wonder with her gift for
riding. And she came slipping into the stable and never saw me having
my cat's sleep in the loose box, and she fetched down the saddle that
had just come from Cork city for our little bit of a pushkeen, and if
you'll believe me, she stuck ten pins into it; yes, ten--every one I
reckoned. I kept both my eyes wide open and she went away humming to
herself and as pleased as Punch. Then I took nine of the pins out,
for what was the good of injuring the beautiful creature more than
was necessary for my purpose, and I told her she might have a ride
on Starlight if pushkeen would lend her her new saddle. You may be
quite certain she was not behindhand in that, was pushkeen--she's the
best-natured little lambkin that auld Ireland has ever seen. So I
mounted Miss Tilly on Starlight and rode Brian the Brave meself, and
there was only one pin in the saddle, but I contrived it proper to
pierce the hide of the creature. Oh, but she rode like a bird, like
a bird, and I was ashamed of meself for misdoubting her. And then we
talked of all the famous Rayneses of England, who took every prize
worth mentioning in your queer sort of country, and she said she was
hurt at me for doubting her, and of course when I knew she was one
of _those_ Rayneses I was altogether up a tree; yes, to be sure,
that I was. Well, what do ye think? all of a sudden she lets out a
screech,--and a motor car, the De'il's own contrivance, comes splashin'
and roarin' round the corner, and Starlight stood bolt upright on his
hind-legs and I helped missie to a soft fall by the roadside. Then I
made her tell The Desmond----"
"_Mr._ Desmond, if you please," said Raynes.
"I made her tell _The_ Desmond the story, and he said she was to go
and go at once, and she did go, and Flannigan, our good Protestant
curate, saw her off, and that's all I can tell you about her. She's not
altogether a very nice child, even though she is a Raynes of England,
but I can't make out for the life of me what you are wantin' at
Desmondstown. You may as well tell me, for I may be able to help you."
"I'm most bitter ashamed of Tilly," said Raynes, when the other man had
ceased speaking. "She has told a shocking lot of black lies, and her
wanting to injure and perhaps kill the little shopkeeper is perhaps the
worst of all."
"The little shopkeeper--my word! What next!"
"I'm coming to that in a minute or two," said Raynes. "She was a bad
little piece and I've punished her according, and I'll punish her
still more for the lies she told about us and horses. Why, man, I'm
a coal-merchant, that's what I am. I am making my pile and a goodly
one it will be if the Lord spares me. But we don't any of us know any
more about horses than you know how to act the cat. We are nothing but
coal-merchants, that's what we are."
"Well, there is nothing wrong in that," said Malachi. "It seems a pity
she descended to lies. But, now whatever is your business with us, Mr.
Raynes?"
"I've come for the express purpose of exposing that young girl you make
such a fuss about. She was nothing at all but a little shopkeeper at
Arles and you set her up to be a fine lady."
"She wasn't no shopkeeper at Arles," said Malachi. "I don't know what
you are talking about."
"Well, but I do, and I've come over all this long way for the express
purpose of having it cleared up. I've punished my Tilly and I'll punish
her more. There came a time in my life when I thought to make a fine
lady of my Matilda and I sent her to Arles to the school of a woman
who called herself a princess, but Tilly will never be a lady. She'll
keep in her father's station and have to be content. Now, I've listened
in patience to your story and I'm very angry indeed with my girl,
but there's no doubt whatever that right is right, whether it is on
the left side or the right, and that child you think such a power of
spends her time at Arles selling hats and dresses. She's the little
shopkeeper, that's what she is. She has sold hats and dresses to my
girl and that's how my girl knows."
"We're nearly at home by now," said Malachi. "Phinias Maloney will have
his bit of a cart waiting for us. I'll look into this matter for ye,
Mr.--Mr. Raynes. You keep it dark until I give the word."
"You're certain sure you won't act the cat on me?" said Raynes.
"No, no; I should have to be a very wide-awake cat to act that little
game on you. I'm going to ask Phinias Maloney to put you up for the
present and I'll be round when the moment comes that you wish to tell
my father."
"I don't know that I want to put up for the night at the house of the
man you call Phinias Maloney."
"You couldn't do better, his house is clean of the clean, and Annie his
wife will give you her bedroom and sleep along of the children, and
himself will lay on the settee near the fire. Now then, here we are.
I expect ye are a bit hungry. There ain't one in the countryside for
frying eggs and bacon to compare with our Annie. Hullo, Phinias, here
ye are!"
The funny little springless cart was brought up. Malachi had a
short and very earnest conversation with Phinias, who gave one very
solemn twitter of his eyelid but made no further comment of any sort
whatsoever. Presently the three men got under way and Raynes, who
really felt himself very tired, not to say exhausted and ravenously
hungry, began to turn his attention with keen desire to Annie's eggs
and bacon.
Malachi parted company with Raynes at the broken-down gate of
Desmondstown. He assured Raynes that he would have a word with him that
evening, and left him in the complete care of Phinias, who talked the
entire way to the cottage of the power of the celebrated shillelagh.
"Be all that's howly," he said, "it would smash a man's brains out
whilst he was a-thinkin'. Every man in these parts kapes wan; they're
better than any guns I've heerd tell on."
Raynes felt decidedly uncomfortable. He ventured to ask what shape a
shillelagh was, but Phinias's reply was,
"They're meant for killing, it don't matter the shape! To be sure now,
Annie, mavourneen, here's a gent from England, own father to that dear
little Miss Tilly. He's mad with the hunger. You get him as many
new-laid eggs and rashers of bacon and bread and butter and fresh milk
and cream and tea as you think he can swaller. Don't overdo the man,
but do him well, for the sake of _dear_ little Miss Tilly."
Annie felt very much inclined to say that she was never dear little
Miss Tilly to her, but there was a look in her husband's face which
caused her to "kape herself to herself."
Accordingly the childer were swept out of the room. Raynes from England
was given the only decent bedroom in the house and presently Annie
appeared with a great tray, which contained half a dozen fried eggs, as
many rashers of home-cured bacon, bread and butter, and a great jug of
milk, besides rich cream and tea.
"That'll do," said Raynes, who felt almost sinking from sheer
exhaustion.
Annie went away and communed with her husband. Raynes ate until he
could eat no more, and then thought he couldn't do better than explore
the premises a little. But he was met at the doorway by no less a
person than Phinias himself. Phinias was twiddling his shillelagh in
the air, and it certainly looked a weapon that could not be trifled
with; that is, if it was turned _against_ you.
"I'd like to try it," said Raynes, somewhat timidly.
"You try it--_you_! You don't know the swing of the thing; you 'as to
be out in the air in the first place, and the next you 'as to swing it
through the air with a sort of a swish, and then down it comes--crack!"
"Oh, well, I don't mind about it," said Raynes. "I'm a harmless man, I
don't want to hurt anybody. I'm just going out for a bit of a stroll."
"Ho, you ain't," said Phinias. "You'll stay just where you are until
you have spoken your mane and dirty words agin our little Miss
Pushkeen. The jintlemens will come to see you all in good time, and as
soon as ever they have gone, I'll have the greatest pleasure in life
in driving ye back to the railway station where ye can take ship for
England, and you and your low-down girl Tilly can meet again."
"I tell you, I tell you--" said Raynes, almost stupid with rage, "that
the little miss you make such a fuss about is only----"
"Come out into the yard and tell me about her there," said Phinias.
"No, I won't, not while you hold that thing in your hand."
"I'm not going out without it, so don't you think it. And I'm standing
just here to pervent ye takin' a flyin' lep unbeknownst. Oh, be the
powers! We are all right now, I'm thinkin'. Here's master Malachi and
'himself' coming across the fields. They'll be here in no time."
"Is he the one they call by the ridiculous name of '_The_'?" asked
Raynes.
"'Tain't ridiculous. Whist, now, hide yer ignorance if ye can. They
have shillelaghs as well as we. You sphake up to him."
"I'm not afraid," said Joshua.
"To be sure you aren't. How could the father of Tilly mavourneen be
afraid?"
"That's what I'm thinkin'," said Raynes.
"Ah, thin, jintlemen, here ye be. Welcome to my hovel, The Desmond,
asthore. Welcome, Master Malachi. The gent is gettin' a bit restive.
He's anxious to see ye, to relieve a burden on his mind."
"I am, and I don't like those sticks you hold," said Raynes.
The man, who for the time being had adopted the name of The Desmond,
was in reality Fergus, the heir to that ancient title. He immediately
laid his stick on the table. Phinias went out into the yard whistling.
Malachi shook hands with Raynes, as though he was his oldest and
dearest friend, whom he had not met for at least twenty years.
"I hope ye are feelin' comfortable, sir," he said.
"Very much so," replied Raynes, "if I might get a breath of the air and
not be frightened to death by that queer man. I want to walk over to
Desmondstown to see Mr. Desmond."
"I brought him to you," said Malachi. "Here's The Desmond. Be careful
you don't anger him, or he may raise the stick."
Certainly Raynes never felt in a poorer case. Fergus, who already was
well acquainted with the story of his beloved little Margot, allowed
Raynes to relieve his feelings, looking at him with his steady dark
eyes and his calm, unemotional face. Malachi was as usual all twinkles
and smiles.
Raynes told his story very badly and, when he came to an end, Fergus
rose to his feet, and said in his refined, gentlemanly voice,
"Well, now, this is no news to me. It is the French stepgrandmother's
doing and must be put a stop to. I'll see that it is put a stop to and
I'm greatly obliged to you for tellin' me the whole story from first to
last, so graphically as you have done, Mr.--Mr. Raynes."
"I'm obliged to you, _Mr._ Desmond," said Raynes.
"That's right, call me anything you like. I'm not particular."
"The car is at the door. We had best be starting, if ye want to catch
yez train," said Phinias.
"Oh, yes, yes," cried the coal-merchant, who was only too terribly
anxious to get out of the land of the shillelagh.
Phinias and he were soon driving rapidly in the uncomfortable cart to
the railway station. He never felt so pleased in his life as when he
got into the train. He was heard to remark to one or two farmers on his
return journey that "The Desmond, ridiculous name, looked a very young
man." The farmers stared but made no comment.
Thus did Malachi and Fergus save their father from a shock, which would
have undoubtedly half killed him, for the Irish pride is like no other
pride. It sinks into the heart, it eats the very vitals and has been
known many and many a time to destroy life.