Free The Blood Dimmed Tide by Anthony Quinn Page B

stared at me and blew out a long trail of smoke.
    ‘My young friend here has an interesting tale to share with us,’ he announced to the cabin. The walls began shaking with the reverberations of the rising waves; the glass lantern swung on its beam, and the glasses slid on the table, but all the passengers’ eyes were fixed upon me.
    ‘He tells me that he’s a ghost-feeler,’ continued Marley. ‘Do you know he’s travelling to Sligo in the hope of communicating with the spirit of a dead girl?’
    The passengers looked amused. I turned away, suddenly shy at his mocking camaraderie and his careless revelation of my secret mission.
    ‘A ghost?’ asked the major’s wife.
    ‘Quite. Mr Adams is investigating the death of Rosemary O’Grady.’
    ‘The girl in the coffin?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The major exploded with laughter and slapped me on the shoulder. ‘You go to Sligo at grave risk,’ he said. ‘The people there are sufficiently medieval to have you burnt at the stake.’
    I felt a flush of humiliation.
    ‘You’ll have a job finding your ghost,’ continued the major. ‘The entire country is possessed. Banshees, ghosts, fairies, everyone is haunted by something.’
    ‘The Irish peasants have two things that can never be taken from them,’ said the nurse. ‘One is their hunger for justice. The other is their belief in the supernatural.’
    There was a note of tension in her voice, but, fortunately, the subject of the occult proved a safer topic of conversation for her and her fellow passengers. Intrigued, they began to discuss what they knew of the case.
    ‘I gather this young woman’s body was found in mysterious circumstances, in a manner that cannot be explained by logic or common sense,’ said the major. ‘Then there’s the puzzling development concerning Captain Thomas Oates, the man who found her body. Apparently, the event so jolted his mind, he abandoned his posting and went into hiding.’
    ‘And what are Mr Adams’ thoughts on this?’
    ‘He believes we should look to the otherworld for guidance,’ said Marley.
    The nurse’s eyebrow arched. ‘I believe Mr Adams is correct. No man or woman can claim omniscience in such dreadful matters.’
    I was sensitive to every shade and nuance in their conversation and every flicker of expression on their faces, but my unwavering interest was undermined by another bout of sickness. I felt the room and their faces turn round and round, slowly at first, then quickening as though a wind had taken hold of them, spinning them further and further away.
    ‘Lie down.’ I heard the nurse’s voice suddenly beside me, magnified in my ear. ‘Take no heed of their contempt.’ Her voice was cracked with emotion. ‘Ghosts are our friends. They can tell us what we cannot see. They are our spies. I want you to listen carefully to what this ghost tells you, and record it carefully.’
    She slipped a rolled blanket beneath my head, the first comfort I had received on the voyage. I felt that under her tender care, I might make slow but steady progress back towards good health, and lulled by her presence I drifted off to sleep.
    When I came round, she had left the cabin. The attentions of Marley and the major, who leaned grimly towards me, destroyed whatever sense of ease I had gained. Relentlessly, they continued their interrogation.
    ‘Do you understand the political situation in Ireland?’ asked Marley staring at me eagerly.
    ‘Does anyone?’
    ‘I mean are you familiar with the pattern of the Irish rebellion?’
    ‘I’ve read the newspaper reports.’
    ‘You need to be careful with your English accent,’ advised the major. ‘The natives will instinctively feel something sinister is afoot when you start asking questions. And watch out for the Irish Constabulary. They’re a rum lot. They might decide you’re a troublemaker and fling you in gaol before you can cause them bother.’
    ‘Or give you a kicking just for the fun of it,’ added Marley. ‘Of