Free No Country: A Novel by Kalyan Ray

Your country shoes will give you away, surely. Do they fit?”
    “They’re long enough, but narrow,” I said, doing quickly as he spoke.
    “ ’Twill have to do. When you get a chance, soak them in sea-water. You have a country boy’s wide feet. Nay, nay, put on his stockings first.” Fergus rubbed dirt liberally on Alexander Blackburn’s neat white feet. I exchanged my trousers and coat, while Fergus mussed Alexander’s hair and added a good part of Dublin dust to it, as if he had been traveling and sleeping in the fields. Then he propped up Alexander Blackburn by the doorway. As he was doing all this, he kept telling me all he knew about Blackburn from their evening together.
    “You mustn’t lose your head and run, boy. You mustn’t, do you understand? The reason you have his clothes on is that you’re nowAlexander Blackburn. He told me he was joining the Company and catching its ship from the harbour at dawn tomorrow. Nobody knows him there. Nor did he expect anyone. He told me his family is country gentry, from County Louth. Are you listening?”
    I knew my life hung on this story’s thread.
    “No one will be looking for Alexander Blackburn as long as he is alive. When the ship is at Liverpool, make some excuse to get off. Change your clothes, don’t forget. Beware your County Sligo tongue. Best speak as little as possible—or none at all.” He was smiling grimly at me now. “That’ll be the hardest for you. Never lose your temper, boy, for you’ll give yourself away a thousand ways and not even know it.” I slouched within the doorway.
    All this while, Fergus Murphy had been readying Blackburn as he spoke to me in a rapid whisper. He pulled out a small hip-bottle and poured it on the body, and on his groin, as if he had pissed himself. There was a strong smell of whiskey. “That will buy you more time—for who’ll care about another poor drunk Irish,” he said. “Now we’ll go out together, and turn right. Ignore the Ha’Penny Bridge. Go on to the next big one. Walk with me, neither fast nor slow.”
    When we reached the broad bridge, he said to me, “Cross the bridge and go right. Keep going until you see the lighthouse. Go around it towards the left. You’ll see the ship-masts by then. Do not go too early or too late.”
    “Why are you helping me?” I asked hoarsely.
    “There’s nobody else. And we’re Irish, ye daft fool,” said Fergus with a small smile.
    “I had meant only to frighten him away,” I muttered, almost to myself.
    “Aye, I know,” he said, “but ’tis done.” I began to walk away.
    “Padraig,” he whispered, and I looked back.
    “You’re Alexander Blackburn now. Remember that.” Fergus whispered sternly, “Keep your wits about ye, lad. Do not write or send word to anyone at all. Remember that!”
    I nodded quietly.
    “Never talk about this, no matter how you’re tempted.” Fergus Murphy walked away around the corner while I waited quietly in the night. His footsteps stopped.
    “Padraig?” he called out. I remained silent.
    He chuckled softly. “Mr. Alexander Blackburn,” he whispered.
    “Aye?” I replied.
    “Na gearradh do theanga do sgornach,” he whispered. Then I heard him walking warily back into the heart of Dublin. I walked in the other direction till I was close to the harbour and lurked in the recess of a doorway, out of sight, waiting for the dawn.
    •  •  •
    T HE QUAY WAS raucous with people, chandlers overseeing the loading and baling, men hunchbacked under grain-sacks and boxes hauled up a wide gangplank. No one took any notice of me. Officers stood by in uniform, for this was the East India Company ship. Little matter, I thought to myself, it may be any company in the world. All I cared was that it carried Mr. Alexander Blackburn to Liverpool, where once on shore, he would disappear in the crowd. Lost for a few days and this Company ship gone, Padraig Aherne would use his mother’s shillings and buy a passage, if not to