The Snake's Pass: Historical Novel. Брэм СтокерЧитать онлайн книгу.
head in the steaming jorum, which the hostess had already prepared.
The company then began to discuss the legend. Said one of the women:—
"I wondher what forrum he tuk when he kem back!" Jerry answered:—
"Sure, they do say that the shiftin' bog wor the forrum he tuk. The mountain wid the lake on top used to be the fertilest shpot in the whole counthry; but iver since the bog began to shift this was niver the same."
Here a hard-faced man named McGlown, who had been silent, struck in with a question:—
"But who knows when the bog did begin to shift?"
"Musha! Sorra one of me knows; but it was whin th' ould Shnake druv the wather iv the lake into the hill!"—There was a twinkle in the eyes of the storyteller, which made one doubt his own belief in his story.
"Well, for ma own part," said McGlown, "A don't believe a sengle word of it."
"An' for why not?" said one of the women. "Isn't the mountain called ' Knockcalltecrore,' or ' The Hill of the Lost Crown iv Gold,' till this day?" Said another:—
" Musha! how could Misther McGlown believe any-thin', an' him a Protestan'."
"A'll tell ye that A much prefer the facs," said McGlown. "Ef hestory es till be believed, A much prefer the story told till me by yon old man. Damn me! but A believe he's old enough till remember the theng itself."
He pointed as he spoke to old Moynahan, who, shrivelled up and white-haired, crouched in a corner of the ingle-nook, holding close to the fire his wrinkled shaky hands.
"What is the story that Mr. Moynahan has, may I ask?" said I. "Pray oblige, me, won't you? I am anxious to hear all I can of the mountain, for it has taken my fancy strangely."
The old man took the glass of punch, which Mrs. Kelligan handed him as the necessary condition antecedent to a story, and began:—
" Oh, sorra one of me knows anythin' except what I've heerd from me father. But I oft heerd him say that he was tould, that it was said, that in the Frinch invasion that didn't come off undher Gineral Humbert, whin the attimpt was over an' all hope was gone, the English sodgers made sure of great prize-money whin they should git hould of the 'threasure chist. For it was known that there was much money goin' an' that they had brought a lot more than iver they wanted for pay and expinses in ordher to help to bribe some of the people that was houldin' off to be bought by wan side or the other—if they couldn't manage to git bought be both. But sure enough they wor all sould, bad cess to thim! and the divil a bit of money could they lay their hands on at all."
Here the old man took a pull at his jug of punch, with so transparent a wish to be further interrogated that a smile flashed round the company. One of the old crones remarked, in an audible sotto voce: —
"Musha! But Bat is the cute story-teller intirely. Ye have to dhrag it out iv him! Go on, Bat! Go on! Tell us what become iv the money."
"Oh, what become iv the money? So ye would like to hear! Well, I'll tell ye.—Just one more fill of the jug, Mrs. Kelligan, as the gintleman wishes to know all about it.—Well! they did say that the officer what had charge of the money got well away with some five or six others. The chist was a heavy wan—an iron chist bang full up iv goold! Oh, my! but it was fine! A big chist—that high, an' as long as the table, an' full up to the led wid goolden money an' paper money, an' divil a piece of white money in it at all! All goold, every pound note iv it."
He paused, and glanced anxiously at Mrs. Kelligan, who was engaged in the new brew.
" Not too much wather if ye love me, Katty. You know me wakeness!—Well, they do say that it tuk hard work to lift the chist into the boat; an' thin they put in a gun carriage to carry it on, an' tuk out two horses, an' whin the shmoke was all round an' the darkness of night was on they got on shore, an' made away down South from where the landin' was made at Killala. But, anyhow, they say that none of them was ever heerd of agin. But they was thraced through Ardnaree an' Lough Conn, an' through Castlebar Lake an' Lough Carra, an' through Lough Mask an' Lough Corrib. But they niver kem out through Galway, for the river was watched for thim day an' night be the sodgers; and how they got along God knows! for 'twas said they suffered quare hardships. They tuk the chist an' the gun carriage an' the horses in the boat, an' whin they couldn't go no further they dhragged the boat over the land to the next lake, an' so on. Sure one dhry sayson, when the wathers iv Corrib was down feet lower nor they was iver known afore, a boat was found up at the Bealanabrack end that had lay there for years; but the niin nor the horses nor the treasure was never heerd of from that day to this—so they say," he added, in a mysterious way, and he renewed his attention to the punch, as if his tale was ended.
"But, man alive!" said McGlown, "that's only a part. Go on, man dear! an' fenesh the punch after."
"Oh, oh! Yes, of course, you want to know the end. Well! no wan knows the end. But they used to say that whin the min lift the boat they wint due west, till one night they sthruck the mountain beyant; an' that there they buried the chist an' killed the horses, or rode away on them. But anyhow, they wor niver seen again; an' as sure as you're alive, the money is there in the hill! For luk at the name iv it! Why did any wan iver call it 'Knockcalltore'—an' that's Irish for ' the Hill of the Lost Gold '—if the money isn't there?"
"Thrue for ye!"murmured an old woman with a cutty pipe. "For why, indeed? There's some people what won't believe nothin' altho' it's undher their eyes!" and she puffed away in silent rebuke to the spirit of scepticism—which, by the way, had not been manifested by any person present.
There was a long pause, broken only by one of the old women, who occasionally gave a sort of half-grunt, half-sigh, as though unconsciously to fill up the hiatus in the talk. She was a ' keener' by profession, and was evidently well fitted to, and well drilled in, her work. Presently old Moynahan broke the silence:—
"Well! it's a mighty quare thing anyhow that the hill beyant has been singled out for laygends and sthories and gossip iv all kinds consarnin' shnakes an' the like. An' I'm not so sure, naythur, that some iv thim isn't there shtill—for mind ye! it's a mighty curious thin' that the bog beyant keeps shiftin' till this day. And I'm not so sure, naythur, that the shnakes has all left the hill yit!"
There was a chorus of "Thrue for ye!"
"Aye, an' it's a black shnake too!" said one.
"An' wid side-whishkers!" said another.
"Begorra! we want Saint Pathrick to luk in here agin!" said a third.
I whispered to Andy the driver:—
"Who is it they mean?"
"Whisht!" he answered, but without moving his lips; "but don't let on I tould ye! Sure an' it's Black Murdock they mane."
"Who or what is Murdock?" I queried.
"Sure an' he is the Gombeen Man."
"What is that? What is a gombeen man?"
"Whisper me now!" said Andy; "ax some iv the others. They'll larn it ye more betther nor I can."
"What is a gombeen man?" I asked to the company generally.
"A gombeen man is it? Well! I'll tell ye," said an old, shrewd-looking man at the other side of the hearth. "He's a man that linds you a few shillin's or a few pounds whin ye want it bad, and then niver laves ye till he has tuk all ye've got—yer land an' yer shanty an' yer holdin' an' yer money an' yer craps; an' he would take the blood out of yer body if he could sell it or use it anyhow!"
"Oh, I see, a sort of usurer."
"Ushurer? aye that's it; but a ushurer lives in the city an' has laws to hould him in. But the gombeen has nayther law nor the fear iv law. He's like wan that the Scriptures says ' grinds the faces iv the poor.'. Begor! it's him that'd do little for God's sake if the divil was dead!"
"Then I suppose this man Murdock is a man of means—a rich man in his way?"
"Rich is it? Sure an' it's him as has plinty. He could lave this place if he chose an' settle in Galway —aye