Redemption Falls

by Joseph O'Connor

  And what becomes of them afterwards, when they are old and tired? And if one met her in the street, with her children and a husband, what would one say, after all? Pretend, I suppose. All sham and pretense. And the greatest of these is marriage.

  Witweasked me, at supper, if all had been satisfactory.

  Lied that it had,danke schön .

  An honor, she smiled, doing business with the government.

  Und so, at last, to bed.

  Sweet Christ – A terrible dream, the worst ever I had – It seemed that I crawled some constituency of the damned – through a sludge of gristle and putrefying flesh – with the Governor on my back, riding me like a jockey – his teeth chewing lewdly through the carapace of my cranium while he spewed the cry: ‘Death to the traitor!’

  Hard by were ranked the legions & battalions of the war-fallen: whole armies in Union blue and in butternut gray – weeping, howling, worm-gnawed number extending in ranks to the vanishing point. – Scourged me to a high crest overlooking a river – on which sailed a barque of clowns and child-ghouls – Here a medal was nailed to my breast by a boy in fiery rags; the word graven into it was ‘Coward’ – It scalded my flesh but I could not pluck it off – He was the urchin I had seen at the Governor’s.

  Awoke a moment ago – flailing at the coverlets; the counterpane and bolster saturated with perspiration – For a moment, truly, did not know where I was – Jesus – What terror – Pulse in my throat beating fit to burst my jugular.

  Someone walking on the landing. A man I think. The night is tomb-quiet. Snowing.

  Twigs at the window. Down in the street. Looking up at me, the boy. Appeared laughing.

  Someone has been into the room while I was asleep: the candles quenched and a washing-jug brought in. Creature in the loft is shifting, scraping. Shall not sleep again this night.

  Wish to Christ redeemer I had something to read.

  But have just now remembered: I do.

  CHAPTER 55

  O I AM A VALIANT FELON, BOYS MY COUNTRY DID I LOVE

  Winterton’s reading material – A biography of sorts

  INTELLIGENCE STATEMENT SECRET & CONFIDENTIAL DO NOT READ OR POSSESS THIS DOCUMENT UNLESS AUTHORIZED TO DO SO†

  Caveat Lector: Certificate is unverified & may contain errors of fact.

  GIVENNAMES OFSUSPECT:Giacomo (a.k.a. James) Cornelius O’Keeffe.

  ALIASES:None. (Certain familiars address him as ‘Con’.)

  BIRTHPLACE& DATE:Wexford County, Ireland, Unit. Kdom. April 4th or 5th, 1823.

  WARRANTS& BOUNTIES:Warrants outstanding for his arrest in any territory or possession of Great B, by any agent of her govt.

  APPLICABLEPUNISHMENT OFWARRANT (S):Death by hanging, drawing, quartering. No right of appeal.

  FATHER(if known):John Downing O’Keeffe. Grain merchant; Lord-Mayor of Wexford 1827–1829, briefly Member of (Great B) Parliament. Well-connected.

  MOTHER(if known):Annalena Margarita Rugierro (b. Pordenone, nr Venice). Descd, Dublin, consumption, when subj aged five months.

  SUBJECT’SSCHOOLING(if any):Rowanwood Coll., Kildare County, Ireland; Stonesglade Coll., Shropshire, England. Frequently disciplined. Boothman Medal for Shakespearean Recitation. Expelled (allegedly possessed opium: denied).

  PERSUASION:R. Cath., not practicing. Some anticlericalism in speeches, writings.

  MARITAL:Current legal marriage. Previous irregular situation. See below.

  DESCRIPTION:Five feet 10 inches. Eyes dark brown. (Iris of right slightly darker than left.) Swarthy. Graying hair. Prominent jaw. Beetle-browed. Mediterranean type. Bloated & gouty. Faded tattoo-mark on left breast shows flaming sword with entwined scroll reading ‘Erin go Bragh.’ (‘Ireland for Ever,’ in the Erse or Celtic language.) Slight limp due to fracture; fall from horse at Fredericksburg.

  INFORMATIONS:On expulsion from Stonesglade Coll., traveled in Europe (knows Italian, some French); returned Dublin, became militant, 45–48, of fanatical sect purposed to destroy crown rule (operating under guise of Literary Club). Attributed Irish famines to English misrule. Extolled French revolutionaries, summer 48. Devised ‘Irish tricolor’ banner. Praised ‘Chartist’ agitators & has spoken from platforms with them (Manchester, England). Writings, orations advocated armed revolution, for which he gained soubriquet ‘O’Keeffe of the Blade’. (Attribd to English belletrist W.M. Thackeray.) Plotted insurrection summer 48. Betrayed by informant. Charges: treason & ‘countenancing the death of the monarch’. Death sentence, Clonmel Assizes, Tipperary County Nov 48. Commuted on petition (by his father), life-transportation HM Penal Colony, Van Diemen’s Land, Australia.

  There enjoyed privileges. Owned livestock, sailboat, farmstead at Lake Comfrey. Permitted gentleman’s apparel, excused punitive labor. Established household with Catharine (or Kathryn) Foley, half-breed Negro, one daughter, confirmed deceased two months. Subject absconded March 52. ‘Wife’ died by own hand, Hobart Asylum, Tasmania Oct 55. Subject md Lucia-Cruz Rodríguez Y Ortega McLelland, 1 the Fifth Avenue, NY, of the respected steel family, Jan 1856. No issue. Marriage unstable. (Subj drinks. Women also? Investigate informants, brothels, & cet.) Has visited Central Amer isthmus on long sojourns of uncertain purpose. (Canal rights, goldfields, mineral exploration?) Intensely disliked by father-in-law, who regards subj as fortune-hunter. Known to be kept by wife. Investigate further. On four occasions in the late 50s he inquired of subversives in New York if a passage back to Australia could be clandestinely arranged. Informants were not told why. Revolutionism?

  WAR SERVICE:Southern sympathies, secessionist associates (cf: John Fintan Duggan, Richmond, Va.), & has refused to ‘stigmatize’ slavery; but sided with north. Raised company of ‘Irish Zouaves’ for Union 61. Brig. General, Irish Brigade, 127th New York (‘The Con O’Keeffes’). Charged with drinking while in command at First Bull Run. Exonerated by inquiry. Fair Oaks, the Seven Days, Gaines’s Mill, Savage’s Station, Malvern Hill (his men in brutal hand-to-hand battle fought with bayonets), Antietam (Bloody Lane), Fredericksburg, other engagements. Brigade destroyed at Chancellorsville: only 31 survivors. Brief service Eastern Tennessee Command. Stripped of rank for striking superior officer (General Sherman), conduct unbecoming, & reckless disregard. Request for brevet Generalcy refused. Is not entitled to be styled ‘General’. Is not entitled to wear uniform of US General, preside at inspections, receive salutes, award decorations. Is to be styled as civilian: ‘Mister O’Keeffe or James O’Keeffe., esquire.’ ON NO ACCOUNT is permitted to raise troops without WRITTEN orders from Washington. Any attempt so to do is to be prevented by the immediate detention of subject or BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

  WHEREABOUTS(if known):Redemption Falls (formerly Joliet Gulch), Mountain Terr, Nthn Sector. Appointed Territorial Secretary Feb 65 (unbeknownst to subj, wife petitioned incessantly for him to receive governmental position.) Is Acting Gov. To be DISMISSED as soon as practicable. Informants ******* & ****** report subj widely resented. Govship has seen lawlessness, summary executions by ‘Vigilante’ band; worsening outlaw & Indian depredations. Legislative matters unattended to. Waggon trains undefended. Bitter Party feuding. Railroad not progressed. Interests of capital unrespected.

  SUSPICION:Subject suspected of criminal conspiracy in grand larceny: viz, piracy of secret Federal shipment of gold bullion and sapphires, Fort Galloway, August 27th, 66. Strong intelligence indicates subj is clandestine ally of perpetrator, Cole John McLaurenson, alias ‘Johnny Thunders.’ (Confederate blackflagger.) Subj will attempt to use share of plunder to purchase weapons for long ambitioned invasion of British Canada or Ireland.

  RECOMMENDATION:Send Field Intelligence Agent directly. ‘Cartography Division.’ He is both to prepare an expedition & learn what may be learnt. Preferably unmarried & a volunteer.

  CHAPTER 56

  A-ROVING SHALL I GO

  Winterton’s Fieldwork – A meeting with Natives

  A visit to Fort Braintree – An assignation in a cowshed

  Nov. IX. 66. Temperance Hot
el, Kinsella’s Crossing

  Two days’ hellish ride north-east, badly saddle-galled & exhausted, but no knowledge of her whereabouts in the town or at any settlement along the way. Asked at every crossroads, saying I had news of a onetime friend, a Colonel whom she had nursed in the War. Wife (Mrs Blackmore) had borne the Colonel a daughter; had called her Lucia as an honor. Perilous strategy to speak so openly of her name; but disquiet becomes a spur.

  Every stage office closed and many locked up. Notice on a door at Levintown:

  ALL ROUTES SUSPENDED INDEFINITELY BY EMERGENCY ORDER OF GENERAL O’KEEFFE, OWING TO FREQUENCY OF HIGHWAY ROBBERY & MURDER. PERSONS LEAVING THIS TERRITORY ON HORSEBACK, OR BY OTHER MEANS, STAND WARNED. YOUR PROTECTION IS NOT GUARANTEED.

  Strange, my compass has joined the thermometer in failing to function. Must be sitting atop a lode of magnetic matter. Broke a trirrup†coming down, godblasted nuisance. Saddler in the town perhaps.

  THOUGHT: World where carnal and social intercourse were reversed. Sweethearts met furtively for conversation, literary criticism, & cetera. Conversely, at supper-party, would be acceptable – indeed considered bad formnot – to sexually gratify one’s hosts, or whichever guests happened to be placed either side of one. Débutante balls would be organized on the principle of pleasure (as opposed to being business occasions with an orchestra). ‘Miss Amelia, you look quite radiant since your return from Venice. Might you permit me the singular honor of the Last Rogering of the evening? If your card is not already completed, of course.’ Would be less of that dishonest poetry where swains warble on about fen and field and daffodil and lake, when what they would secretly like to immortalize is the bush, rock, mesa, Alp, & cetera, near where Daisy, or Dorothy, or Micky Muck, or Matteo was desired to, or almost, or actually did, suck on country pleasures. Unlikely to come about very soon, I suppose. Pity. Better for us all. Only that whoremongery should soon become quite as dull as most conversations now are. And then we should be longing to talk to one another.

  Spent the early morningsolus , taking readings near Lake Inishfree. Saw Koötenais watching my labors from Devil’s Backbone. One of them ventured down a little, in my direction, as I supposed; but when I raised my staff in greeting he ran away very quickly. Almost goatish in their fleetfootedness. Saw them again before long. Five males, approx 25 – also a boy. More perhaps hidden, I suppose. Felt not exactly fear, but sudden weight of being alone. Could not have outrun them had they struck.

  About 11 of the forenoon was attempting some fieldwork, as much to quell anxieties as for any other purpose. It is becoming too apparent that we have greatly underestimated the number of surveyors required, for vast tracts are heavy going, swampish or steep, and many of the forests almost literally impenetrable, so that to map them might mean their destruction. Was sketching a shallow fish-shaped gorge, about half a mile long, to the N.N.E of Mc Dermott’s Farm, when was approached by two besoiled old coots. Monitored me for a time, like schoolboys observing the distress of a scorched centipede through a lens. One attempted to disregard them, as one ignores the first shudderings of an illness. But this quadruped of filth would not be ignored.

  Was I this-hea government feller? Was I writin up this-hea map book? Did I know that this-hea gorge was known as Ducksfoot Canyon? Told me ludicrous lies about how it received its name. (Had once been a lake. Flock of Canada ducks landed thereupon. Feet froze to surface. Could not escape. Flew away in a body, taking the water with them. As though they done planned it out.)

  I fear such men. Not alone for their lies, but for the fact that they appear to believe them. ‘Dang me if nature aint cruel,’ Coot II blurted, as though the first earthly sage to have had revealed to him this nodule of trite undergraduate snots; while the other, my Virgil through the underworld of banalities, continued his peroration.

  ‘Remarkable,’ I said.

  ‘Aint it now.’

  Spat frequently, copiously, loathsomely, the goat.

  Had many other facts that would interest me, he missupposed. A floodin (I assume he meant a flood) of such biblical forcefulness that a surtn house in these-hea parts wuz carry there fowteen (I assume he meant ‘fourteen’) mile by the deluge, and the owner and his bubstill inside eatin hominy.

  Indeed, I said. I had heard that fact already.

  I had?

  Yes. The owner purchased the land beneath the spot where the house came to rest and he resideth there happily now. Extraordinary. I also had the story of the orphan raised by wolves, the floating stones, the three-breasted squaw, the squaw with an organ of generation in her abdomen, the talking apes of Idaho, the water-dragon of Liverpool Lake, and the grass that causes famishment to any who walk on it (‘till they’d ate their own childer to be full’).

  The mammalia looked at one another. Then the two of them looked at me. ‘Captain Ghoul at service,’ I did not actually say, but things may be said by a stance. I had taken off my hood, the better to permit them appreciate my full beauty. They appeared almost femininely wonder-struck.

  And away toward some adjacent latrine they staggered, thumping one another on the back like music-hall idiots, pitching and yucking with repugnant hilarity. There are moments when I am greatly troubled for the future of this Republic. Not that those two diseased old imbeciles will be part of it very long.

  Completed my calculations and sat by the river a while. Saw specks of gold in the water. Was weary, so that I nodded off into shallow of sleep. Uneasy nights of late. This not remembering very troubling. Or holes in the recollection as in a cake of Prussian cheese. Jolted back to the world by whinny of a horse.

  At least a score of Blackfoot observing me from a line of oaks. Heavily armed from what I could see (with rifles and bows). Made immediately to walk toward them, hand outstretched. Arrow whipped into the scree before me – not half a yard from my left boot. Backed slowly away with gloves raised high. But others were approaching from behind. Tallest, a leader, emerged from the body. Walked up to me without uttering a word. Eyes lined with cobalt paint, like a buccaneer’s mask. Crow feathers in his hair. Necklaces and an amulet. Fully a minute he scrutinized my person, gesturing that I was to turn about before him. Had me empty out my pockets but did not thieve anything. Squinted very disgustedly as he looked at my face. Rather shaken by the encounter…†

  …Later, was walking in the principal street (dirty soldiers drinking; skinny old horses) when I lit upon a nymph of the pave. Irish. About 25. Five feet four approx. Wantonest smile I ever saw. Followed her to barns down an alley behind the livery stable. Murphy Bros. Bounden slave.

  Cows enstalled, staring like a row of nuns. She pretended innocence. Drove me demented by her coyness. What was Mister’s profession? was he a professor or a minister, for that was what he looked in them fancy black duds. Was a lawyer, I said. (I do not know why.) She said three. I agreed. What did I want of her? That would not be possible. Was there anything else that might suffice? Loosening a corona of russet hair. The very naughty Mister I was, to be sure, to go askin a nice girleen such a badness. And myself brought up in the church and all, unstaying the lacings of her chemise.

  Redeeming Christ. There now, Allanah. We shall have a little fun, rest you easy. Permitted no kiss of her cranberrybouche , but to touch her face and hair. Was gibbering like a Bedlamite as she unfastened me. Lay in her palm like a slug on a Giotto. Anxious, I suppose. But she did not ridicule. Soon had me tiptoeing on the spot. (Christ Above; what must they think of us?) Asked me to quiet down, I suppose for fear of arousing the curiosity of some slack-jawed Pat of the pitchfork and the torch-bearing bibulous bros. Cupid’s couch was in a closet of damp, old hay; she forbade not the anointing of Venus. Beelzebub & Moloch, prepare thee my skewer, I shall roast on it happily till kingdom come – or unhappily, despairingly, whichever is required. Only baste me in the juices of a redhead’s sins, and season me with the salt of a bishop’s.

  Seconds of bliss & one’s joys ranneth over. Washed at a trough, serenaded by the horseflies and the int
ermittent philosophical low. Had a child at home, she told me, husband died at Mechanicsville; had to take to this profession for there was none other she could do. Hoped to marry again come Martinmastide; go into California with her new beau. She requested, and I did not forbid, a smoke of my meerschaum. Poor lamb was soon coughing like a broken-down train, & needed to have her back rubbed, which was delicious to do. Most exquisitely made shoulders I ever touched in my life. A sacrilege even to look on them. Before long one felt the want of a return to the fray. Maneuver I wished would cost another three, she insisted, for it was an intimacy only permitted her beau. Smoldering stars – exceptionally generous. One was practically speaking in Gaelic.

  As she fastened herself afterwards, asked me what part of England I was from. Told her I was not of that country, but from Boston in the states. There was a whole rake of Pats beyond in that place, she said. Confirmed that this was indeed the case. Did I know the bossdog of this Territory was a Pat itself? I said that I heard of the fact, but knew little of the gentleman. He was ‘a man and a half’ – this she told me proudly. Done a powerful lot for Ireland. Done a lot for the poor. It was awful sad when you thought about the talk of his late private troubles, for his wife was a fine person, too.

  ‘Your neighbor,’ I ventured.

  ‘How, Mister? My neighbor?’

  ‘Oh nothing, dear girl. May I assist you with your lacings? It was only that I had had it, I cannot recollect from whom, that the lady you mention is in residence at Fort Braintree.’

  ‘Not at all, she stays at Edwardstown. At the Plains Hotel. They say she will go back to New York when the spring rise come. For that is where her people are living.’

  I was kneeling in the straw with one of her shoes in my hand. I looked up at my backyard mavourneen.