The Journeying Boy (20 page)

THEIR WORM DIETH NOT

AND THE FIRE IS NOT QUENCHED.

Through the early afternoon sunshine the bug trundled westwards and the landscape began to take upon itself with surprising fidelity the characteristics of those railway posters that celebrate the beauties of Erin. In the distance the mountains showed bluer and more blue; blue peat smoke rose from the whitewashed cottages; stacks of peat lay about the bogs or moved mysteriously down the lanes, superincumbent upon invisible donkeys. It was a natural scene in which poetry was steadily gaining upon prose, and Mr Thewless endeavoured, amid the perturbations still active within him, to assume that aesthetic mode of contemplation proper in the circumstances to a cultivated English traveller. The boy who had said he was going to be sick was sick.

The bug stopped at a little whitewashed hut and there was another Customs examination. A pillar-box bearing the monogram of Queen Victoria had been painted a nice green. On the platform stood a policeman of normal proportions, and instead of a revolver and a truncheon he carried a copy of
Ben Hur
translated into Irish, which he was evidently studying for an examination important to his professional advancement. Mr Thewless realized that the imperial might of Great Britain lay behind him and that in front was the philosophic republic of Mr De Valera. He several times endeavoured to show his passport and was somewhat hurt to find that the authorities took no interest in it. The attention of the policeman and the Customs officer was entirely given to the piglets, which they examined with many expressions of admiration and surprise. Contrary to popular supposition, it appeared that a pig was almost as much of a curiosity in Ireland as an armadillo would have been in Elizabethan London.

The bug moved on – inexplicably on any merely mechanistic hypothesis regarding its constitution, since both the driver and conductor became aware of the fact only in time to race down the platform and leap on board as it rounded a bend and headed towards the Atlantic Ocean. For a couple of hours it purred and clanked from station to station, but these halts grew gradually more indeterminate in character as the afternoon advanced, and eventually it simply stopped whenever summoned to do so by agitated persons hurrying across an adjoining field. Once when the single track upon which it ran breasted a rise Mr Thewless was startled to see an identical bug rapidly advancing upon them in the middle distance. The driver, also by chance observing this appearance, called to the conductor, and the two engaged for some minutes in dispassionate conversation, bending curiously over the controls of the vehicle and pointing now to one lever and now to another. Meanwhile, the advancing bug hurtled towards them. The conductor made some suggestion which the driver upon consideration rejected; the conductor reflected and then urged some further argument; the driver, being plainly a man of open mind, agreed to give the suggestion a trial and depressed some object with his foot; with an agonizing jolt the bug came to a dead halt. Some ten yards away the second bug had done the same, and the two appeared to eye each other balefully, much like two fleas that have been taught to simulate pugilistic encounter. The drivers and conductors, however, climbing out to meet upon neutral ground, debated the situation in the friendliest spirit over cans of tea and a cigarette; eventually the oncoming bug was coaxed by its crew to back for half a mile into a siding which had been discovered by the enterprise of a reconnoitring conductor – whereon the journey was resumed. One other hitch occurred about an hour later, when the bug came to a halt, baffled by a bifurcation of the line before it. And this occasioned the only flaw in the complete harmony of the afternoon’s proceedings, for whereas the driver was in favour of taking the line to the left the conductor was obstinately wedded to the notion of taking the one to the right. Various passengers took part in the discussion, which presently re-echoed to a spirited bandying of the musical place-names of the district. Miss Liberty, hearing the driver several times enunciate in tones of disgust and repudiation the name of Killyboffin, joined in vigorously on the conductor’s side; and it was this opinion that eventually carried the day.

The journey went interminably on. Apart from two or three silent men who sat at the back, conversation was general on various points of crop and animal husbandry. A friendly farmer observing that Mr Thewless had nothing more entertaining to read than a novel by Mr Charles Morgan, insisted on lending him the current issue of the
Tullycleave, Derryness, and Kinnoghly Recorder
, and from this he learnt that at Crockacooan on the following Thursday it would be possible to bid for three store heifers in forward condition, four dairy cows springing and in full milk, a slipe, three rundlets, and a number of double and single trees. He was just speculating on the nature of a double tree when the train ran into the tunnel.

One short tunnel there had already been; traversing it had made Mr Thewless notice the absence of any form of artificial light in this primitive vehicle. One simply sat in the dark and waited. And this time the period of darkness was longer. It must be fully –

At this moment the thing happened: first a shattering jar; then a splintering crash and a tinkle of breaking glass as the bug lurched over on its side; then shouts, cries and – from somewhere at the back – a succession of spine-chilling screams.

It was a situation made all the more unnerving by the complete darkness which enveloped it. Mr Thewless, clinging with one arm to a seat which had reared itself up at an angle of some thirty degrees, stretched out the other in the direction in which he judged the shoulder of his pupil ought to be. ‘Humphrey,’ he called, ‘are you all right?’ But there was too much noise for him to be sure if there was any reply. The driver and conductor were endeavouring to restore calm by each shouting at the top of his voice; children were dismally howling; overhead the piglets sustainedly squealed. In the restricted space of the tunnel the resulting reverberations were altogether bewildering, and it was not easy to decide whether what was involved was a major disaster or a largely baseless panic. Somebody struck a match and there was a momentary vision of sprawled bodies and scared faces. From the rear a man’s voice called: ‘I’ll get back along the tunnel and bring help’ – and this was followed by a further shivering of glass, as of somebody breaking resolutely out of the coach. From the rear too the most agonized groans continued to come, and when another match was struck Mr Thewless saw that one man there was writhing as if in agony and another slumped in his seat, apparently streaming with blood. This last glimpse presented so clamant a call for aid that Mr Thewless began to scramble over the seats, the lessons of long-past first-aid classes reassembling themselves surprisingly in his mind. But he got no distance in this charitable endeavour. For in the darkness and continued confusion something struck him with unaccountable violence on the head and all consciousness left him.

He came to his senses knowing somehow that no great interval of time had elapsed. Nor had the situation greatly changed, except that he himself was now outside the coach and propped against the curved side of the tunnel. Here and there a torch flickered, but there was still more of impenetrable blackness than of light – as also more of turmoil than of order. It was clear, however, that some outside help had arrived. It must, indeed, have arrived with surprising speed, since almost the first object of which he was aware in a passing flicker of light was an efficient-looking stretcher upon which, momentarily unattended, a shrouded form reposed. And Mr Thewless felt a sudden cold fear. Could it be Humphrey who lay in sinister stillness there? The mere thought brought him staggering to his feet and he reached out towards the stretcher. As he did so another uncertain beam of light showed him Miss Liberty close by – Miss Liberty with her features set in swift calculation and with her arm oddly raised… Unaccountably, once more Mr Thewless was struck on the head and was just aware of being gripped in strong arms as he fell.

When he recovered consciousness for the second time it was to discover that a throbbing which he had supposed to be the subjective consequence of his own battered cranium was in fact the steady pulse of a powerful engine, and for a moment he had the confused impression that the bug, with that resistance to even extensive injury characteristic of lowly organisms, had again got under way. But this was an altogether smoother mode of progression, and some subtle report of the senses assured him that it was much more rapid as well. There was still complete darkness around him, but presently he discovered with great surprise that this was merely because he had his eyes shut. Opening them, he found himself to be lying on a stretcher in an admirably appointed ambulance, all chromium, white enamel, and antiseptic smell. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, a little electric radiator was thoughtfully burning, and above it was a tastefully arranged vase of flowers. There was a gay frieze of delightful nursery scenes, and perched at Mr Thewless’ feet was an uncompromisingly hygienic but nevertheless cuddlesome teddy-bear. On the other side of the vehicle was a second, and empty, stretcher.

From all this there was only one reasonable inference. He had been badly injured in the accident and was now being borne away in an ambulance hastily requisitioned from some children’s hospital. But it was odd that there was nobody else in need of similar conveyance; for example, there had been the two badly hurt men at the back. And what had happened to Humphrey? Even if he had escaped injury, what would be the consequence of these untoward events upon a boy so easily thrown off his balance?

Confronted by this thought, Mr Thewless realized that it was his first duty to ascertain the extent of his injuries and thereupon come to a determination as to what was best to be done. There being no nurse or attendant in the ambulance of whom to inquire, he decided upon a cautious exploration. Apart from a moderate headache and a decided tenderness on the top of the skull, he was aware in himself of no unusual sensation. He knew, however, that sometimes for a considerable interval after the sustaining even of grave injuries very little pain may be felt. But if sensation were delusive, movement could scarcely be so. Now, what was the worst that could have befallen him? The answer, he decided, was a broken back. And, with a broken back, there was one thing assuredly that one could not possibly do: sit up. Bracing himself against some sharp agony, Mr Thewless made the effort to achieve this position. And immediately he found that he was sitting up with as little inconvenience as he experienced every morning in bed.

Mr Thewless moved a limb. He moved all his limbs. He twiddled his toes and twisted his neck. Then, as an afterthought, he vigorously champed his jaws, blinked his eyelids, and retracted the muscles of his abdomen. The issue of all these experiments was incontrovertible. Whatever minor sprains or abrasions he might have received, he was by no means in the sort of condition that justified his thus being treated as a cot case and hurtled away from his young charge hard upon an alarming and dangerous experience. And as soon as he realized this Mr Thewless acted with vigour. ‘Stop!’ he shouted loudly. ‘Please stop at once. There has been some ridiculous mistake.’

Nothing happened. He called more loudly still, but again in vain. The hum of the engine must be rendering his cries inaudible through the partition separating him from the driver and anyone else in front. He therefore explored the back, and found only double doors which appeared to be locked on the outside. At the other end, however, and quite close to where the driver’s ear must presumably be, there was what proved to be a sliding shutter – and this Mr Thewless opened with considerable relief. ‘Excuse me,’ he said politely through it; ‘would you mind stopping, and opening the door? I find that I have sustained no serious injury.’

These remarks being, even if faintly surprising, eminently rational, Mr Thewless was a good deal startled to hear them received with a loud laugh. ‘Shut your trap, son,’ said a rough voice. ‘Hollering won’t do no good. Sit down and play with yer bloody bear.’

Mr Thewless was not unnaturally much shocked. It was evident that the driver, being accustomed to conveying children, had forgotten that upon this occasion he was dealing with an adult. But that sick children should ever be spoken to in such a way aroused his extreme indignation at once. ‘Stop the ambulance instantly,’ he said. ‘Your language is disgraceful, and you may be sure that I shall report upon it with the utmost severity to the proper authorities.’

Again the driver laughed loudly. ‘Gawd,’ he said, ‘what a rum kid?’

‘’Ere’ – it was a second voice that spoke this time –
‘is
it a kid? It don’t sound much like a kid to me.’

‘Wot’s that?’ The driver was startled and jammed on his brakes. ‘Didn’t yer have a look at ’im under that ruddy sheet?’ The ambulance jolted to a stop. ‘Let’s ’ave a look.’

And a moment later the doors were flung open. Mr Thewless, boiling with indignation, jumped to the ground and confronted two surly and oddly uncertain men, who had not at all the appearance of hospital attendants. ‘Strewth!’ said one. ‘’Ere’s a go.’

But the second appeared more self-possessed, and now presented Mr Thewless with an ingratiating smile. ‘You mustn’t mind his language, sir,’ he said. ‘He don’t belong at all regular with the ambulance; it’s just that the regular driver’s away like.’

At this the first man growled what might have been an apology. When he spoke, however, it was in tones of indignation almost matching Mr Thewless’ own. ‘Look ’ere,’ he said, ‘ain’t yer tripes ’arf torn out? Ain’t yer at death’s door? Ain’t yer a bleeding mess?’

Mr Thewless uttered a comprehensive denial of these charges. ‘I am perfectly well,’ he said sternly. ‘And I demand to know–’

‘Then we ain’t got no time to waste on yer. What d’jer mean coming joy-riding with them as is employed strikly on errands of mercy? Serious calls is wot we attend to. Come along, mate. And jigger off, yer silly old goat.’