The Tomb and Other Stories

by Stanley Salmons

  ‘He’s nearly ready, steer him towards me,’ shouted Padraic, who was wading now with his net in the water. The first time I tried to bring it in, the fish saw the net and made another brief bid for freedom. I steered it carefully round in a wide circle and then brought it gliding in nice and straight and with a single movement Padraic scooped it up. My heart was banging with excitement.

  ‘Very nice spring fish,’ said Padraic. ‘Very fresh. Look, the sea lice aire still alive.’

  I’d never seen sea lice before; nasty little square things with a short tail, still clinging to the flanks of the fish and still wiggling. They don’t live more than a few hours in fresh water, so the salmon was fresh run. It looked fresh, too. Shining silver flanks, shading to pure white on the belly and black on the back. I was surprised to see that the pectoral fins were sticking out from the body, like one of those jet fighters with a tailplane in the front. Before this I’d only ever seen salmon when they were on the fishmonger’s slab, and by that time, of course, the fins are flush to the body.

  ‘Nice deep belly. Well over ten pounds, mebbe twelve,’ said Padraic. He looked up, and grinned. It wrought a complete transformation of his normally gloomy features. As for me, it would have taken a plastic surgeon to get the smile off my face. We shook hands warmly.

  ‘Well played,’ he said.

  ‘Well netted,’ I replied.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Get yer fly back in the water, there could be a pod o’ them. Ai’ll wrap the fish up and put it in the cool grass over there, under the trees.’ He was already pulling what looked like a plastic dustbin liner from a pocket. For someone of his pessimistic outlook, he came well prepared. I smiled to myself. We’d certainly come a long way since I first met this character at the beginning of the week.

  By the time he’d rejoined me at the bank I’d decided what I was going to do.

  ‘Padraic,’ I said. ‘I want you to have that fish.’

  He shook his great head. ‘No, sor, that’s your fish. Ye took it with as pretty a cast as I’ve ever seen. Ye hooked it and ye played it. It’s your fish.’

  ‘I know it’s my fish but I want you to have it. Look, I’ve had all the thrill and excitement of catching it, and when it goes on display in the foyer I’ll be on a high the entire evening. But what after that? I’m a single man. What the hell do I want with a whole salmon. You’re a family man, with seven kids to feed. It would double my pleasure if I knew you were taking it home to your family. It’s no big deal; it’s only a salmon. Will you do that for me? Could you come by the hotel at about nine o’clock to pick it up?’

  Padraic looked shattered. I knew he was a proud man and I was hoping I hadn’t offended him. Then he said quietly:

  ‘Ye’re a fine gentleman, sor.’

  ‘That’s great. Now the other thing. I gather that Colom will put a notice on the slab to say who caught it and where, and with what fly. I want to call the fly Padraic’s Pulser. All right?’ I was grinning at him. He gave a sort of embarrassed grunt, which I took as acquiescence.

  ‘The thing is, you know how fishermen are when they hear about a killer fly. They’ll all be wanting one. You could probably sell several to every fisherman who comes to the hotel. You know the kind of thing: large and small sizes, for different water conditions, single and double hooks. It’s only if you feel like it. All I’m saying is, if you do, you won’t charge less than two punt for each fly, will you?’

  He nodded, as the implications sank in. It wasn’t a bad way of turning a hobby into an extra thirty or forty quid a week. It wouldn’t last long, but it would be good while it lasted. And by next season, who knows, he could have another killer fly on his hands.

  All this time I was casting and retrieving, mainly to keep the whole conversation as casual as possible. And then I sensed Padraic stiffen, and he growled softly:

  ‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves some company.’

  Following his gaze downstream I saw three men sauntering along the bank towards us. My first reaction was: What the hell are the guys doing on this beat? They’re supposed to stick to their own beat. Then as they got a bit closer I realised that these were not fishermen from the hotel. Far from it. I reeled in.

  One of the men was bigger than the other two, and as they approached he moved slightly ahead of them and stopped a couple of yards in front of Padraic. I noticed that Padraic had placed himself squarely between them and me.

  ‘So, Pat, are there salmon in the river?’

  There was nothing friendly about the question, and I knew that ‘Pat’ was just a condescending form of address. Padraic’s answer was commendably short.

  ‘Mebbe.’

  The big man nodded slowly, smiling grimly. ‘I’ll bet there are few enough when yer man here is through reelin’ them in.’

  ‘If he catches any it’ll be because he paid good money f’r to be here, unlike some. And he’ll be using a fly, not a net like ye have in that bag there.’

  The big man tensed. ‘How the hell d’ye know what we have in the bag?’

  ‘I been around long enough to know what ye’re up to.’

  The big man ran his tongue round his lips, and his eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll tell yer what, Pat,’ he said, and this time he spat the word as an insult. ‘Ye have a creel full of salmon stashed back here somewhere, so why don’t you just hand it over and we’ll be on our way.’ His two companions smirked confidently.

  I wanted to say to Padraic ‘Give them the salmon, it’s not worth it’ but somehow my tongue had turned into a dry piece of leather and was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I was scared witless. They were three of the most evil-looking villains I had ever set eyes on, and it was three against one, because I was no fighter. I looked at those big boots and thought about the damage they would do when they went in. I had not the slightest doubt that when they’d finished with Padraic they’d start with me, and probably leave us both for dead on the bank.

  It was remote here. No-one would think of coming to look for us until I failed to show up at the hotel, and it would be getting dark by then. We could be lying here, injured or worse, all night. I tried to swallow but there was no saliva. Yet Padraic’s voice was rock steady. I was amazed at his composure.

  ‘There ain’t no creel full o’ salmon, and if there were I wouldn’a give it t’the likes o’ you.’

  God, I thought, this is getting nastier by the minute.

  The big man’s eyes flashed. ‘Not good enough fer yer, eh?’ he said.

  Padraic still spoke in a slow, normal voice: ‘Ye’re not good enough fer me dog to piss on.’

  It was all the invitation the big man wanted. He lunged forward, and then something happened that was too quick for me to see and the big man doubled over and dropped to his knees gasping. I think I had seen Padraic’s famous body punch, or at least the effect of it. There was a frozen instant of shock and surprise when nothing happened, and then the other two piled in. Padraic side-stepped smartly to the left to place one behind the other. The man in front lurched round to follow the movement and he stumbled slightly as he changed direction, throwing his arms out to catch his balance. Padraic stepped in immediately with a right cross, his great bunched fist crashing into the man’s jaw. It was a punch that would have dropped a pony and the man collapsed like a house of cards.

  The third man stopped short. He was skinnier than the other two, and in the sudden absence of their support his courage was draining away into his boots. The fact that Padraic, having put away his two friends, was barely drawing breath, could not be doing a whole lot for his morale. He tried to compensate by hurling threats and abuse at the impassive Padraic.

  ‘We’ll be back fer yer, don’t ye worry ’bout that!’ he yelled. ‘We’ll be taking care of yer.’

  ‘You and whose airmy?’ Padraic taunted.

  The man fumbled around for something stronger, something more threatening, anything to disrupt Padraic’s infuriating composure.

  ‘An’ we’ll call on yer fam
ily too…’ he started to shout, and then he faltered.

  Oh dear, I thought, you shouldn’t have said that. You really shouldn’t have said that.

  Something had happened to Padraic. It was as if a fire had ignited inside him. His face had gone dark, his eyes were ablaze. The transformation was not lost on the poacher. Too late the man turned and ran. With those long legs I’m sure he could have outdistanced Padraic over a hundred yards – but not over three yards. Padraic accelerated like a scrum-half out of a ruck and nailed him. Without a pause he lifted the struggling, protesting poacher by the ankles, carried him over to the river and plunged his head under the water.

  I rushed over. The man’s body was shaking and writhing and I saw a cloud of bubbles rising to the surface.

  ‘Padraic,’ I said in alarm, ‘you’ll drown him.’

  He winked at me. ‘Only a little bit,’ he replied. Then he yanked the spluttering man clear of the water and shouted at him: ‘Ai’ll be having to apologise to the salmon for the foul company they’re keepin’.’

  The man was coughing violently. ‘Yew big bairst’d (cough) ye’re drowning me.’

  ‘Are ye goin’ to leave this place and never show your dorrty faces here again?’ demanded Padraic.

  ‘Put me down, yew big bairst’d …’

  ‘That’s not the answer I wanted t’hear,’ said Padraic in a normal voice, and dunked him back. There was more writhing, more bubbles, and then I spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was the big man. He had recovered his wind and now he was covering the ground between himself and Padraic in a wild charge.

  ‘Padraic,’ I shouted, ‘look out!’

  Padraic glanced over his shoulder, calmly let go of the poacher’s ankles so that he dropped into the river and ducked into a crouch just as the big man came upon him. With immaculate timing Padraic rose, catching him under the pectorals with the bunched fingers and thumbs of both hands and lifted, using the man’s momentum to launch him through the air and into the river. Now the two poachers were floundering downstream, unable to get their footing because the river was flowing deep and fast here. As the current carried them away I noticed, with grim humour, a flat cap bobbing along in their wake.

  Padraic looked down the river after them with an expression of distaste. What was going on in his mind? He wasn’t by any chance concerned that this had put paid to my fishing? One thing about salmon: they don’t like water with poachers in it? He needn’t have worried. My arteries were still flowing with pure adrenaline, and fishing was the last thing on my mind. I suddenly remembered the other poacher and looked around. He was still lying on the grass. Padraic and I went over to him. He was groaning and making some feeble movements. I thought his face looked rather mis-shapen.

  ‘I think you may have broken his jaw, Padraic,’ I said.

  ‘More than likely. I hit him pretty haird, now.’ And he wiped his knuckles in a hand-washing motion. Then he spotted the poachers’ bag, still lying in the grass. He opened it, nodded grimly, and picked it up. ‘Is there a phone in your cair?’

  ‘A mobile? Yes.’

  ‘Come on, then. If we’re quick maybe we can get the Garda down here to pick ’em up. Ai’ll keep the bag as evidence. Ai’ll just go and get the fish.’

  The fish! I’d almost forgotten the fish!

  Back at the car he called a number, which I dialled for him. When I handed him the tiny phone it all but disappeared into his great paw. He spoke loudly at it. I was busy breaking down the rod and putting everything away, but I heard snatches of the conversation.

  ‘Ye won’t be finding it haird to pick them out, now, Joseph. Two will be wet to the skin, and the t’ird has a broken jaw. No, don’t come on yer own. They have nairsty tempers, these t’ree. Bring the Garda with ye. But ye’ll have to be quick.’

  When he’d finished I cancelled the connection and asked him: ‘Was that Joseph who used to be the water bailiff?’

  ‘Aye.’

  A quarter of a mile back along the road we came across a very dilapidated Land Rover parked on the verge. There were no houses nearby. Padraic jumped out, had a good look inside and came back to me.

  ‘It’s theirs, for sure. Let’s give Joseph another ring. This’ll be a good place for us to wait for ’em.’

  ‘Padraic, forgive me for saying this but I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’

  He looked slightly puzzled that I wanted to miss the fun. ‘Ah, all right. We’ll make the call and then ye can leave me here. I’ll give ’em a hand. They can drop me off after. Can ye find your way back to the hotel yerself?’

  ‘Oh yes, no problem.’ I pressed the redial button on the phone and handed it to him. ‘I’ll look out for you at nine o’clock at the hotel, then? You can tell me what happened.

  ‘Right y’are.’

  *

  The salmon weighed a bit over twelve pounds. I gave Colom the details of the catch and told him briefly about our encounter with the three poachers. Then I went upstairs and dropped gratefully into a hot bath. I would have given a lot to see the faces of my fellow fishermen when they came into the lobby and saw my fish, but I didn’t want to gloat, did I? Like hell I didn’t.

  I passed through the foyer on my way to the bar and saw that my fish was the only one on display. In a way I felt sorry for the others, although of course it heightened my own sense of achievement. When I entered the bar Morton was among the first to shake my hand, although I thought he looked a bit crestfallen.

  ‘Nice fish. Well done. What the hell’s this killer fly you were using – Padraic’s Pulser, for God’s sake?’

  I described the fly and saw how interested they all were, both in the fly and the fact that Padraic had tied it for me.

  ‘Heard you ran into a bit of trouble with poachers,’ said Bill. It seemed the story was all over the hotel.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I’m bloody glad I wasn’t on my own.’

  ‘Padraic would be a good man to have with you in a situation like that,’ said Morton generously.

  ‘None better,’ I replied.

  Colom insisted on giving me my malt on the house, possibly to celebrate the salmon, or to try to compensate for the trauma that had followed it. I bought a round for the chaps and they toasted me, and I toasted Padraic. I had one more malt, and reserved the last on the shelf to have after dinner with my coffee. In fact I was enjoying it when Colom came looking for me in the lounge. It was about ten to nine.

  ‘Ah, there y’are, sir. I wanted to tell you Padraic came by for the salmon. I gave it to him like you said. He asked me not to disturb you. I think he was a little shy about saying goodbye himself. He just said to thank you for the salmon and tell you that they picked up those three poachers. One of them’s in hospital under guard. The other two will be charged in the morning.’

  ‘That’s great news, Colom, thanks.’

  ‘The Garda said they’d come round in the morning to take a statement from you, about ten o’clock. Will that be all right, now?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t have to leave till about twelve. Colom, something I was curious about. Padraic didn’t speak to the Garda direct, he phoned Joseph. Why would he do that? The man’s retired isn’t he?’

  ‘Ah, he is retired now, but Padraic knows Joseph very well, he’s an old friend of the family. Nice man. You know, after the children left home the mother was on her own a lot o’ the time. He would always drop in if he was passing and have a cup o’ tea with her. phoning him was a smairt thing to do. The Garda have a lot o’ time for Joseph. They may not’ve come so quickly if he’d contacted them himself.’

  ‘I see. Thanks. It does point up the need for a full-time bailiff, though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, you couldn’t be more right there. They’ve left it far too long. I will be having another word with the Estate Manager myself in the morning about it.’

  You won’t be the only one, I thought grimly.

  *

  Actually there was time for
me to make several other phone calls before ten o’clock, when two Gardaí arrived. They were very business-like, and so was I. I gave them a full account of the poachers’ malign behaviour, and of Padraic’s bravery. They duly noted it all down. Then one of them told me that the poacher with the broken jaw wanted to sue Padraic for assault.

  ‘Oh, really?’ I said. ‘Well I’m quite prepared to fly back and give evidence in court that Padraic was defending himself from a vicious and unprovoked attack. Perhaps you’d like to tell him that, and ask him whether he thinks the court is likely to accept my word or his.’

  The two policemen smiled grimly. The younger one asked: ‘You’d go to that much trouble for a ghillie?’

  ‘Most certainly. I owe it to him. That and more. If it hadn’t been for what he did the pair of us would have been beaten up very badly. Maybe worse. I couldn’t possibly let him face a charge like that undefended.’

  They left the hotel shortly afterwards and then it was time for me to leave too. I drove my rented car to the airport and caught my flight home.

  •

  I’d been back at work for a couple of weeks when I decided to phone Colom to see what was happening.

  ‘Ah, hallo sir, and how’re ye doing? My saints and didn’t you set the cat among the pigeons before you left? We had the Garda here again, and the Irish Tourist Board, and the Water Company. Very unhappy about what had happened, they were. It was right what you said to them. Very bad for tourism, an incident like that. Could have been a disaster. And they all went over to talk to the Estate Manager. But you already spoke to him too, didn’t you, about Padraic?’

  ‘Yes, I did. So did anything happen?’

  ‘Oh yes. The Estate Manager offered Padraic the Game Warden job, and he took it all right. And I understand there’s a lovely house on the Estate goes with the job and Padraic is moving in with his family. And his little wife is thrilled to pieces, and he must be like a dog with three tails, ’cos they’re in a proper house and there’s plenty of room for the whole family, not like the little cottage he was renting. And the ghillies say he’s taking the job very serious, and he’s down the river every day. But he’s wasting his time, because after word got around there isn’t a poacher in the country wants to come on his territory.’