Strandloper

by Alan Garner

  “Mother of God. The hammock.”

  “Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low!”

  “‘What will you give me if I sink that French gallee?’!”

  “‘As ye sail to the Lowland –’”

  The chaplain stepped in the puddle of moisture, slipped, and fell across the slung hammock, face down.

  “Oh, Christ and His Saints.”

  There was not a breath, not a chink.

  “This man,” said the chaplain. “How long has he been dead?”

  “Dead, sir.” said Pad.

  “He is putrefaction.”

  “Well, we did think he was in a bit of a sulk.”

  “Sulk?”

  “But then he was never the great talker.”

  “And you claim to have smelt nothing.”

  “We thought it was the fumigatising you did, sir.”

  The chaplain stood and lapped the edges of the hammock over and made the sign of the cross above it. He walked along the deck, and the crowd opened for him in silence. At the companion ladder he turned, and said, “I shall send those to sew him in. Four of you to carry.” And he left.

  No one spoke. No one moved. Two sailors, and armed guard, came down; and they sewed the hammock into a shroud with twine. They laid the leg chain along the body.

  “Take ’em off him!” said William. “Don’t send him in slangs!”

  “He needs the weight,” said Jeremiah.

  “He must go down free!”

  “He is free,” said Jeremiah.

  The sailors finished the job, and went. Pad lifted the body onto his shoulder and made for the companion. He moved his head. “Who’s for some air?”

  Renter took the lashings of one end and gave a handful to Eggy Mo. William and Jeremiah took the other end.

  “Follow me,” said Pad. “And easy does it.”

  The body was nothing, but their irons made them unsteady onthe ladder.

  “Watch for your eyes up top,” said Pad. “It’s a honeycomb of ages since you’ve seen such light.”

  They went on the companion through the decks and out at the top. They yelled, and dropped the body, covering their faces with their hands.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” said Pad, himself squinting.

  They parted their fingers. The light was agony, and there was no colour but yellow gold. Gold deck. Gold mast. Gold sail. Gold agony of sky. Gold agony of flashing sea. No depth. No shade. All gold.

  “Take him up,” said the voice of the chaplain, “and bear him here.”

  There were the shapes of golden men, outlined in a greater gold, standing at a gold bulwark.

  “Here’s me hand,” said Pad, gripping William’s. They lifted the body again, and Pad led them along the deck.

  There was a plank already balanced on the after-rail, steadied by marines. Next to it were the Captain, the surgeon and the chaplain.

  “Lay him on the plank,” said the chaplain. “Take hold.” The marines stepped back. William, Jeremiah, Renter and Eggy Mo held the plank.

  “He did ought to go down free,” said William.

  “The sea-lawyers will look to that,” said Pad, “when they render their account.”

  Colour was coming back into the air, and William could open his eyes. He saw the water behind the ship slit by fins.

  “Have you command of yourselves, Erbin?” said the chaplain.

  “We have, sir,” said Jeremiah.

  “Commit the body when I signify.”

  “We shall, sir.”

  The water was flecked with blue.

  The chaplain opened his book.

  “‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die –’”

  “Oh, fake the slangs,” William sobbed.

  “‘Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery –’”

  Take them off!

  “‘In the midst of life we are in death –’”

  Off! Off! Off!

  “‘– suffer us not, in our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.’

  “What may we say of our brother, Christopher, here departed?”

  “Non omnis moriar,” said Jeremiah.

  “He was sore afflicted; yet, in his affliction, we may see eternal hope still shine, and say with him: Yea! He did chase them. His apron he did flap at them. But they did see him coming. They did see his apron. Yet shall he get them. One day.”

  “‘I shall not entirely die,’” Jeremiah said to William.

  The chaplain nodded, and Jeremiah lifted the end of the plank. The hammock slid, and dropped.

  “We therefore commit this body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the Sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the world to come –”

  “He’s not sinking,” said Eggy Mo.

  “Too much gas in him,” said Renter.

  The shroud bobbed in the water, and slowly went under.

  “Land ho!” cried the look-out from the crow’s nest.

  “Na-a-a-a-y!” shouted William. “But you could have waited! Why did you not wait on? And lay him in earthen lake?”

  “Land ho!”

  “– who at His coming shall change our vile body, that it may be like His glorious body –”

  “The sea-lawyers would appear to contest the brief,” said Jeremiah.

  13

  WILLIAM WAS AS far forward as he could get in the boat. He could smell and taste the earth on the air. The colours of green to the edge of blue, and broken by the trunks of silver trees. The tents and stores of the landing party, the fires on the beach, and the chaplain’s marquee were separated from this world by the line of the perimeter guard; but which side was the guarded, William could not see.

  He jumped the instant he felt the keel grate. He disappeared, but rose again to his waist and began to labour for the shore. He swung from side to side with his chains; then he was in foam, and his step reached land. Though it heaved under him in its stillness, he kept himself firm.

  “I’m coming. Not long now, Het. I’m here.”

  The others were behind him in the water. Some had to be pulled up from drowning. Some moved as though drunk. Some crawled onto the sand. Some lay, too dizzy to move, until kicked to their legs.

  Men went down from the camp and waded out to unload the boat. The new men were formed up to have their chains unlocked. William stood in his chains, and felt them, one by one, taken from him.

  I’ve bested you. You bugger.

  Yet they still held him. He had to force his arms apart, and there was no weight to them. He took a step, but could not raise his foot from a shuffle.

  He made himself lift, and the leg that had worn the long chain, now without its heaviness, jerked upwards and out, and he fell. On hands and knees, he tried to stand, but he had no balance without iron, and fell again.

  “Easy does it, Crank,” said Pad, and kept him steady while he teetered upright. “You’ll soon be in fine twig. Just keep on the go till you find yourself.”

  “Get. Me. Home.”

  William walked. The heavy chain leg strode too far each time, so that his knees bent at a square angle and he sank at his hips. Pad gripped his upper arm and elbow and forced him along the beach. They turned back at the guard line, and walked again. His legs straightened and the rise and dip of his head grew less, until Pad could let go of the arm, and William’s stagger became a slow, but even, pace. They came to a fire. “Good as caz,” said Pad. “He’ll be good as caz.”

  Renter and Jeremiah were sitting by the smouldering wood, and Eggy Mo was waddling up and down, without his leg irons, trying to stride, but he, too, was thrown by the missing long chain.

  “Welcome to New Holland,” said Jeremiah; “or to that part of it that is now Sullivan Bay, for such has been its nomenclature for the past week. It strikes me as remarkable how
those in authority seem to be unable to recognise a place until they have named it, though there can be no doubt of its existence before our coming.

  “Now. Take meat and drink, William; but I suggest that you remain standing until you are in full command of your limbs, for I consider it essential, since you are determined on your leaving, that you do not delay, but go while there is still some disorder in the camp. To which end, always be sure to carry something and to move as with purpose, then no one will distract you from your true errand of seeking provender. Why have you not yet been issued with clothing?”

  “There was none as would fit,” said William. “The quarter-master says it’ll have to be made special.”

  “Then you must go as you are,” said Jeremiah. “And you may be the better for it. The new cloth does scoriate the tender parts most grievously, and hampers movement.”

  “But it doesn’t eat the night out of you,” said Pad. “And we’re well rid of our old togs, eh?” He laughed with Renter.

  “It was the best Adam Tilering I’ve seen in a long while,” said Renter, and pointed to Jeremiah. “Don’t let them binnacle words fool you. That one could make his fortune.”

  “I’m fit,” said William. “Let’s be off.”

  “Wait while I tell you, won’t you?” said Pad. “Oh, it was beautiful. It was gorgeous. You see, Bobby isn’t the one to live in a tent. Oh no. There’s no room for his dining table. So he ships out his own marquee, and there’s no rest for us till it’s up and to his liking. Then there’s himself, standing over his goods and chattels on the shore, and me toing and froing with his comestibles, as he calls them. Now there’s a word.”

  “Are you with me, or aren’t you?”

  “Festina lente, William,” said Jeremiah. “All in its season.”

  “Eh! I’m walking proper!” said Eggy Mo.

  “So I takes four bottles of his liquid comestibles, and wraps them in a bit of old sacking; and there’s meself out of the marquee with it, past the guard, when who goes by but this old reprobate, with a sack of his own, not looking, and knocks right into me. ‘Arrah,’ says I, ‘do you squint like a bag of nails, that you can’t see a man before you?’”

  “And I says, ‘Hold your mag, frig pig,’” said Renter, “‘or your glims’ll be shining like a shitten door.’”

  “Frig pig, he calls me! ‘Who, you, you moving dunghill?’ says I. ‘You piss more than you drink!’ Well, the guard knows trouble’s on the way, so he’s quick to send us packing, and on I goes with me little bundle.”

  “And I’m shouting, ‘I’ll mill your glaze for you!’, said Renter, “when round the corner of the marquee, slap bang, this one steps; and he’s got his bundle, too.”

  “I can run! I can run!” cried Eggy Mo.

  “Anyway,” said Renter, “out come the binnacle words. ‘Oh, Charles!’ he says. ‘Charles! My sincere apologies!’ he says. ‘I was the cause entirely!’, or some such. And he starts turning me round, and making me tidy; and I shove him off, and he goes one way, and I goes t’other.”

  “I can’t eat any more,” said William.

  “Put it in your shirt, and take my drinking can, and do not part with it,” said Jeremiah.

  “And there’s me, down the beach with Bobby,” said Pad, “and him standing over his furniture like it was a saint’s bones.”

  “But these britches is giving me jockam some gee up,” said Eggy Mo.

  “So do it in your hands and rub it in,” said Renter.

  “‘Oh,’” says Bobby, ‘what’s that you’re carrying, McAllenan, from my marquee?’”

  “‘Oh,’” says I, “‘it’s me old togs, sir, for the fire. There’s no wear left in them, and besides, they’re walking. Indeed, I don’t know why I carry the idle creatures.’ And I throws the bundle on the fire, and up it goes in flames, with the creatures crackling in it. ‘Well,’ I says, ‘I promised them hell fire, and now they’re there straight, and no purgatory.’”

  “Choice,” said Renter. “Very choice.”

  “The long and the short of it, William,” said Jeremiah, “is that, having ascertained which of the marines can least hold their liquor, I have persuaded them, by letting them see what is in my gift, that they should stand guard together this evening on the eastern perimeter, where I shall visit them an hour or so before sunset. And you and your companions shall happen to pass that way in the gloaming, when we shall see whether yet again the peculiar ability of the Irish to wage war with brandy wine has been successful.”

  “Ah, it’s only four bottles of red tape I could get,” said Pad. “With two of me granny’s poteen, they’d not see a hole in a ladder.”

  14

  THE AIR WAS purple; the sky; the sea; the sand; the grass; the trees; all purple.

  “Well, lads, shall us be doing?” said William.

  “Aye aye, Crank!” said Eggy Mo.

  “And think on: no stopping; and no rush. See you, there’s Jeremiah.”

  “He’s done his job, by the looks of things,” said Renter.

  “Ah, but that red tape: it’s not the stuff to make the likes of them paralyticised. I’m not easy,” said Pad.

  “Right,” said William. “Come on.”

  They began to walk towards where Jeremiah was with four of the guard, who were leaning on their flintlocks more as props than guns.

  William, Eggy Mo, Renter and Pad carried tin mugs, and bread and meat wrapped in sacking.

  “Now be listening to me,” said William, “and take no notice of them, same as they weren’t there.”

  Other food was in their clothing, which fitted so badly that they looked no more misshapen than any of the rest.

  “Once upon a time ago,” said William, “Henny-Penny were in the stackyard.”

  “It was the field,” said Renter.

  “It were the stackyard. It had to be the stackyard, didn’t it, because that’s where the oak were, else it couldn’t have happened, could it?”

  “No, it couldn’t’ve,” said Eggy Mo. “Go on, Crank.”

  “There she is in the stackyard,” said William, “when, thump, wallop, down comes an acorn and hits her on the head.”

  “Does it hurt?” said Eggy Mo.

  “Not a lot,” said William, “but, ‘Eh up!’ says Henny-Penny. ‘The sky’s a-going to fall. I must tell king.’”

  “Why?” said Renter.

  “Never you mind,” said William. “It’s got nowt to do with you.”

  The guard looked up. Jeremiah laughed, and passed round a bottle.

  “So she goes along and she goes along and she goes along, until who should she meet but Cocky-Locky. ‘Where are you going, Henny-Penny?’ says Cocky-Locky.”

  “‘I’m going to tell king the sky’s a-falling,’ says Henny-Penny. ‘Oh, I’ll come with you,’ says Cocky-Locky. So Henny-Penny and Cocky-Locky go to tell king the sky’s a-falling.”

  “And was it?” said Eggy Mo.

  “They thought as it were, and that’s all what matters,” said William. “Anyroad, they goes along and they goes along and they goes along, when who should they meet but Ducky-Daddles.”

  “I think it was just an acorn,” said Eggy Mo.

  “Oh, thee hold thy rattle,” said William. “And Ducky-Daddles says, ‘Where are you going, Henny-Penny and Cocky-Locky?’” “Wasn’t it Foxy-Woxy?” said Renter.

  “No it weren’t,” said William. “That’s later. And you be told, and all.” “Eh. And where do you think you’re off to?” said one of the guard. “Halt. Who goes there? Friend or foe?”

  “Friend. We’re going to tell king the sky’s a-falling,” said William.

  “Advance, friend, and be recognised,” said the guard. “Parole.” “‘Sullivan’,” said William. “And Counter Sign, ‘Woodriff’.”

  “Pass, friend,” said the guard.

  “Foxy-Woxy,” said another marine. “Foxy-Woxy. Poxy-Doxy.” He giggled. “Doxy-poxy-woxy-foxy. Poxy-foxy-woxy-doxy.”

  They stepped ove
r the boundary of the camp.

  “And the fum, William,” said Jeremiah in a whisper. “The fum!”

  “‘Then I’ll come with you,’ says Ducky-Daddles.” Their backs were now to the guard.

  “Ah well, Bobby got his Parole right, and that’s a mercy,” said Pad.

  “So Ducky-Daddles, Cocky-Locky and Henny-Penny go to tell king the sky’s a-falling.”

  “Ain’t the king in London?” said a marine.

  “You’re right! He is! Oi! You! Come back here!”

  “Take no notice. ‘So they goes along and they goes along and they goes along, when who should they meet but Goosey-Poosey –’”

  “Halt!”

  “Don’t run. ‘Where are you going, Henny-Penny, Cocky-Locky and Ducky-Daddles?’ says Goosey-Poosey.”

  “Halt! Or I fire!”

  “‘We’re going to tell king the sky’s a-falling.’”

  There was a crack, and a ball ripped past them.

  “Nedash, Crank!” Eggy Mo stopped. “The caterpillars are down!” He turned, and put his hands above his head. “I give up! Don’t shoot!” The guard fired again. Eggy Mo ran towards the camp. “I give up! Mam!” There was another shot, and Eggy Mo dropped.

  “Cut stick!” shouted Pad, and the three scattered.

  The lieutenant and more marines came running, pushed the staggering guard aside and took aim.

  “Wait!” called the chaplain. He was hurrying from his marquee.

  “I cannot wait, sir!” said the lieutenant. “There has been a breakout!”

  “Give the hare law,” said the chaplain. “McAllenan! Come back, you fool! McAllenan! There’s nowhere for you! Come back!”

  “In your own time!” ordered the lieutenant. “Free fire!”

  Pad sprawled on his stomach. William swerved to him.

  “Cut stick, Crank. I’m bung upward, me.”

  “Give us your arm!”

  “We’re spoiled and boned. The compass. Me pocket.”

  William crouched as the air tore. He dragged a sheet of crumpled paper from the pocket.

  “This?”

  But Pad was fingering small stones from the beach, passing them through his hand. “Ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum –”