Winter Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

I’ve arranged for you to see them in the dining-room in half an hour. They are anxious to get away.’
    â€˜Excuse me, Father Moynihan—you see how it is.’
    â€˜I see how it is. I do wish I’d been able to say what I wanted to say to that old man upstairs.’
    â€˜Come after the service.’
    They both went out.
    â€˜I hope he can be shifted to-morrow.’
    â€˜Nothing can be done until his wife has seen him. She’ll have to be brought here to-morrow.’
    They parted without another word, Father Moynihan to his church, the other to arrange for transportation to the houses of the eleven newly arrived men. Thinking of this, he forgot all about Dennis Fury. He was only one, and there were always the others.
    â€˜I want you to travel to the station and see these men off,’ he informed Delahane.
    â€˜I was intending that, Father. I suppose you know you have been on your feet since five this morning.’
    â€˜Have I?’ he said, laughing, ‘I’d quite forgotten.’
    There were eleven quite different men waiting for him when he went into the dining-room. They rose as he came in, and some smiled: they had washed, they had eaten, they were ready to go.
    â€˜Now your papers,’ Father Twomey said, and each man handed him his papers.
    â€˜We’ll have you on the train inside an hour,’ the priest said. He sat down at the table and began to examine the various documents. He made copies of all, which eventually he would forward to the Regional Ministry of Transport Office, in the case of Government chartered ships, otherwise to the various privately-run shipping lines.
    â€˜Thank you,’ he said, ‘thank you,’ and to each man he gave back papers and a travel voucher for their destination.
    â€˜You will not have long to wait, you will all be home with your loved ones in a matter of hours. Good-bye, God bless you.’
    â€˜Good-bye, Father,’ they said, rising as one man. Father Twomey went out.
    â€˜Be ready when the bus arrives, men,’ Delahane said, ‘I’ll call you.’
    â€˜Yes, sir. Thank you.’
    â€˜Now try to sit up, Mr Fury, and drink this. I believe you had a nice little sleep after all.’
    â€˜Where am I?’
    â€˜You are with the Apostleship of the Sea. I am Father Twomey. I am making arrangements for you to go home to-morrow. Come along now, daddy,’ he said, coaxing, ‘ come along now, you must drink this milk and brandy.’
    He looked at the quivering mouth—‘Steady,’ he said. He held the old man tight and watched him drink ever so slowly.
    â€˜Why hasn’t Fanny come?’ he said.
    Father Twomey turned away his head, he was certain that the old man was quietly crying.
    â€˜How long have I been here?’
    â€˜A few hours. You were drunk. Those two men who brought you here were drunk. Did the agent at Bahia cable your wife?’
    â€˜She never wrote back to me. I wrote twice. I don’t understand. Isn’t one of my children here?’
    â€˜Perhaps,’ the priest said, ‘the ship carrying your mail was sunk. But did the shipping agent cable your wife that you were safe?’
    â€˜I remember now,’ Dennis Fury said—he suddenly raised his head, ran his fingers down the back of his neck. ‘Is it very bad, Father, does it show much? It might be against me at the next signing.…’
    â€˜You won’t sign any more, daddy, not anywhere, not on anything—even a coal barge. No, sure it is not that bad after all. But now you must get well.’
    â€˜It worries me.’
    â€˜What worries you?’
    â€˜Not signing anywhere. Not working. I’ve always done it. And Fanny’ll be worried too. Before I went away on that ship Ronsa , I’d a terrible argument with Fanny, because she didn’t want me to go away to sea any more. She said I was too old. I’m not too old, am I, Father? Are you