Chapter 3: The Gombeen Man

“God save all here,” said the man as he entered.

Room was made for him at the fire. He no sooner came near it and tasted the heat than a cloud of steam arose from him.

“Man! but ye’re wet,” said Mrs. Kelligan. “One’d think ye’d been in the lake beyant!”

“So I have,” he answered, “worse luck! I rid all the way from Galway this blessed day to be here in time, but the mare slipped coming down Curragh Hill and threw me over the bank into the lake. I wor in the wather nigh three hours before I could get out, for I was foreninst the Curragh Rock an’ only got a foothold in a chink, an’ had to hold on wid me one arm for I fear the other is broke.”

“Dear! dear! dear!” interrupted the woman. “Sthrip yer coat off, acushla, an’ let us see if we can do anythin’.”

He shook his head, as he answered:—

“Not now, there’s not a minute to spare. I must get up the Hill at once. I should have been there be six o’clock. But I mayn’t be too late yit. The mare has broke down entirely. Can any one here lend me a horse?”

There was no answer till Andy spoke:—

“Me mare is in the shtable, but this gintleman has me an’ her for the day, an’ I have to lave him at Carnaclif to-night.”

Here I struck in:—

“Never mind me, Andy! If you can help this gentleman, do so: I’m better off here than driving through the storm. He wouldn’t want to go on, with a broken arm, if he hadn’t good reason!”

The man looked at me with grateful eagerness:—

“Thank yer honour, kindly. It’s a rale gintleman ye are! An’ I hope ye’ll never be sorry for helpin’ a poor fellow in sore throuble.”

“What’s wrong, Phelim?” asked the priest. “Is there anything troubling you that any one here can get rid of?”

“Nothin’, Father Pether, thank ye kindly. The throuble is me own intirely, an’ no wan here could help me. But I must see Murdock to-night.”

There was a general sigh of commiseration; all understood the situation.

“Musha!” said old Dan Moriarty, sotto voce. “An’ is that the way of it! An’ is he too in the clutches iv that wolf? Him that we all thought was so warrum. Glory be to God! but it’s a quare wurrld it is; an’ it’s few there is in it that is what they seems. Me poor frind! is there any way I can help ye? I have a bit iv money by me that yer welkim to the lend iv av ye want it.”

The other shook his head gratefully:—

“Thank ye kindly, Dan, but I have the money all right; it’s only the time I’m in trouble about!”

“Only the time! me poor chap! It’s be time that the divil helps Black Murdock an’ the likes iv him, the most iv all! God be good to ye if he has got his clutch on yer back, an’ has time on his side, for ye’ll want it!”

“Well! anyhow, I must be goin’ now. Thank ye kindly, neighbours all. When a man’s in throuble, sure the goodwill of his frinds is the greatest comfort he can have.”

“All but one, remember that! all but one!” said the priest.

“Thank ye kindly, Father, I shan’t forget. Thank ye Andy: an’ you, too, young sir, I’m much beholden to ye. I hope, some day, I may have it to do a good turn for ye in return. Thank ye kindly again, and good night.” He shook my hand warmly, and was going to the door, when old Dan said:—

“An’ as for that black-jawed ruffian, Murdock—” He paused, for the door suddenly opened, and a harsh voice said:—

“Murtagh Murdock is here to answer for himself!”—It was my man at the window.

There was a sort of paralyzed silence in the room, through which came the whisper of one of the old women:—

“Musha! talk iv the divil!”

Joyce’s face grew very white; one hand instinctively grasped his riding switch, the other hung uselessly by his side. Murdock spoke:—

“I kem here expectin’ to meet Phelim Joyce. I thought I’d save him the throuble of comin’ wid the money.” Joyce said in a husky voice:—

“What do ye mane? I have the money right enough here. I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but I had a bad accident—bruk me arrum, an’ was nigh dhrownded in the Curragh Lake. But I was goin’ up to ye at once, bad as I am, to pay ye yer money, Murdock.” The Gombeen Man interrupted him:—

“But it isn’t to me ye’d have to come, me good man. Sure, it’s the sheriff, himself, that was waitin’ for ye’, an’ whin ye didn’t come”—here Joyce winced; the speaker smiled—”he done his work.”

“What wurrk, acushla?” asked one of the women. Murdock answered slowly:—

“He sould the lease iv the farrum known as the Shleenanaher in open sale, in accordance wid the terrums of his notice, duly posted, and wid warnin’ given to the houldher iv the lease.”

There was a long pause. Joyce was the first to speak:—

“Ye’re jokin’, Murdock. For God’s sake say ye’re jokin’! Ye tould me yerself that I might have time to git the money. An’ ye tould me that the puttin’ me farrum up for sale was only a matther iv forrum to let me pay ye back in me own way. Nay! more, ye asked me not to te tell any iv the neighbours, for fear some iv them might want to buy some iv me land. An’ it’s niver so, that whin ye got me aff to Galway to rise the money, ye went on wid the sale, behind me back—wid not a soul by to spake for me or mine—an’ sould up all I have! No! Murtagh Murdock, ye’re a hard man I know, but ye wouldn’t do that! Ye wouldn’t do that!”

Murdock made no direct reply to him, but said seemingly to the company generally:—

“I ixpected to see Phelim Joyce at the sale to-day, but as I had some business in which he was consarned, I kem here where I knew there’d be neighbours—an’ sure so there is.”

He took out his pocket-book and wrote names, “Father Pether Ryan, Daniel Moriarty, Bartholomew Moynahan, Andhrew McGlown, Mrs. Katty Kelligan—that’s enough! I want ye all to see what I done. There’s nothin’ undherhand about me! Phelim Joyce, I give ye formial notice that yer land was sould an’ bought be me, for ye broke yer word to repay me the money lint ye before the time fixed. Here’s the Sheriff’s assignmint, an’ I tell ye before all these witnesses that I’ll proceed with ejectment on title at wanst.”

All in the room were as still as statues. Joyce was fearfully still and pale, but when Murdock spoke the word “ejectment” he seemed to wake in a moment to frenzied life. The blood flushed up in his face and he seemed about to do something rash; but with a great effort he controlled himself and said:—

“Mr. Murdock, ye won’t be too hard. I got the money to-day—it’s here—but I had an accident that delayed me. I was thrown into the Curragh Lake and nigh drownded an’ me arrum is bruk. Don’t be so close as an hour or two—ye’ll never be sorry for it. I’ll pay ye all, and more, and thank ye into the bargain all me life; ye’ll take back the paper, won’t ye, for me childhren’s sake—for Norah’s sake?”

He faltered; the other answered with an evil smile:—

“Phelim Joyce, I’ve waited years for this moment—don’t ye know me betther nor to think I would go back on meself whin I have shtarted on a road? I wouldn’t take yer money, not if ivery pound note was spread into an acre and cut up in tin-pound notes. I want yer land—I have waited for it, an’ I mane to have it!—Now don’t beg me any more, for I won’t go back—an’ tho’ its many a grudge I owe ye, I square them all before the neighbours be refusin’ yer prayer. The land is mine, bought be open sale; an’ all the judges an’ coorts in Ireland can’t take it from me! An’ what do ye say to that now, Phelim Joyce?”

The tortured man had been clutching the ash sapling which he had used as a riding whip, and from the nervous twitching of his fingers I knew that something was coming. And it came; for, without a word, he struck the evil face before him—struck as quick as a flash of lightning—such a blow that the blood seemed to leap out round the stick, and a vivid welt rose in an instant. With a wild, savage cry the Gombeen Man jumped at him; but there were others in the room as quick, and before another blow could be struck on either side both men were grasped by strong hands and held back.