Free The Blood Dimmed Tide by Anthony Quinn Page A

what they were saying.
    ‘Sleuth Wood, Glencar’s waterfall, Rosses Point, none of them are worth the detour,’ sniffed the major. ‘Their names rouse the fancy but Mr Yeats has romanticised them out of all proportion. When his readers think of Sligo, they see gaunt cliffs, wild woods and crystal cascades. His image of Ireland might delight English readers but it hides a grim truth. The disquiet that pervades the country. Houses ablaze and men with guns everywhere. If Mr Yeats visited Sligo today none of it would feel familiar or safe.’
    ‘Is it true they’ve started assassinating English people?’ asked the major’s young wife, who had yet to visit the country.
    ‘Only those who have lived there for hundreds of years,’ replied the nurse with a glint in her eye.
    ‘Tell me about Sligo,’ the major’s wife asked the nurse. ‘I’ve heard the landscape is impressive.’
    The major grunted. ‘The rain is impressive.’
    ‘I’ve been that long in France I’m homesick even for the rain,’ said the nurse, a soft dreamy look filling her features, as though she were the queen of bad weather returning to her kingdom of rain.
    ‘The Irish seasons,’ said the major gruffly, ‘can only be distinguished by the temperature of the downpours. The cottages there and many of the big houses are so damp you could wash your face in the water streaming down the walls. The peasants and servants collect the drips in pots and pans and pour them into the rivers, which sweep the water out to sea where great clouds sweep it all back again. It’s an endless cycle of misery.’
    ‘But Sligo can be wonderful, in spite of the rain,’ said the nurse.
    ‘Thanks to its prosperous Protestant merchants and the great Anglo-Irish families who built it up from a muddy hovel,’ replied the major.
    I felt another convulsion heave my stomach. I rushed from my seat and burst forth onto the deck. When I returned to the dining cabin, the mood of the conversation had darkened. Marley had joined in the discussion.
    ‘They’re all leaving you know,’ he said.
    ‘Who?’ asked the major’s wife.
    ‘The Burkes, the Butlers, the Gibsons and the Montgomerys. One by one, they’re going away. They’re forsaking their mildewy mansions and leaving in trains and boats and automobiles. Before the rebellious mobs take their estates apart.’
    ‘It’s true,’ said the major. ‘We were in Liverpool last week and the place resembled an aristocratic refugee camp. They even have their own solicitors and clergymen in tow.’ His voice took on a low grumbling tone. ‘This rising is nothing more than the whim of a lunatic population. Ireland has had countless rebellions in the past. Its peasants don’t know how to react from one day to the next except to oppose everything England affirms. The landlords will return with their entourages when the mood changes.’
    The nurse interrupted. ‘This time it’s different. The Rising wasn’t a stray event. It marked a distinct stage in the development of the Irish nation. Everything has changed utterly.’
    A silence greeted the vehemence of her words.
    ‘Shouldn’t you be tending to your patient,’ asked Marley, ‘rather than trying to justify an act of treason?’
    The nurse’s jaw was clenched as she fought to control her annoyance.
    ‘What are you? A doctor? Whatever you are you’re not a gentleman.’
    ‘And what are you? A nurse or a revolutionary? Haven’t you grown tired of cradling the heads of dying Irishmen in France? Or do you wish to spend your days dressing the wounds of Irish men on Irish soil?’
    ‘One can be sick in peacetime, too,’ she replied. ‘An entire nation might be dying on its feet and not a drop of blood shed.’
    The ship tilted and the door of the cabin flew open with an unseen force and then slammed shut again. No one spoke, and the tension in the cabin rose. Marley lit a cigarette and put his feet up on the bench opposite, right next to where I was sitting. He