The Voyage of the Dolphin Read Free

assume I’d been brought low by degenerate southern Papists like yourself, corrupted into your ways of strong liquor and fornication, and remind me in no uncertain terms that drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of God .’
    â€˜Romans?’
    â€˜Corinthians.’
    â€˜Interesting. And what would you say to them?’
    â€˜I’d probably say, drink thy wine with a merry heart for God now accepteth thy works.’
    â€˜Proverbs?’
    â€˜Ecclesiastes. Anyway,’ he took another sip, ‘all things in moderation, including moderation itself . ’
    â€˜Leviticus?’
    â€˜Oscar Wilde.’
    A skeletal woman in a black pinafore ascertained with her eyebrows that Rafferty was finished with his plate and whisked it away.
    â€˜How was the steak?’ Crozier enquired.
    â€˜First class. Best in town.’
    â€˜It’s well for you. I’ve barely enough left to pay my Commons fees.’
    Rafferty grunted. Crozier looked around. The place was busy but not full, its clientele made up largely of newspapermen and politicians, clerks, and a smattering of tormented writers mumbling into their pints. Seated further along the bar, among them the orator from earlier, was a group of drinkers. One of them glanced over. Catching Rafferty’s eye, he nodded in recognition and approached.
    â€˜Friend of yours?’
    â€˜Acquaintance,’ said Rafferty, sitting up.
    The man was tall and fleshy with shiny jowls and a face too small for his head, and had on a heavy coat of navy-blue wool such as a bookmaker might wear. He was swaying slightly.
    â€˜Didn’t see you down the road earlier, Frank. Were you busy studying?’ he said, winking at Crozier.
    â€˜Haha, you got it in one, Joe,’ Rafferty replied. ‘Sure, there’s no rest for the wicked.’
    â€˜You have that right. Will we see you on Tuesday at the hall?’
    â€˜I’ll do my best.’
    â€˜Good man.’ He was regarding Crozier with a smiling but calculating eye. ‘Quick word, Frank, do you mind?’
    As Rafferty climbed to his feet he set a coin on the table and gestured for another round. His drink was waiting for him when he returned a few minutes later.
    â€˜Sorry about that,’
    Crozier grinned.
    â€˜Are you with the rebels now, Frank?’
    Rafferty extracted a Wild Woodbine from his pack and lit it.
    â€˜Not exactly,’ he said, exhaling.
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    â€˜They want me to be. They think I am…’
    â€˜But?’
    â€˜I’m not sure. I mean, I believe they have a point, or at least I think I do, thought I did.’
    â€˜How involved are you?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing serious. A couple of meetings, a bit of fundraising, that sort of thing. And I got caught up in some of the high-jinks in the Phoenix Park.’
    â€˜I heard there was mayhem.’
    â€˜There was drink involved, I can’t deny it,’ Rafferty conceded. ‘Anyway, enough of my problems, what about you? Any word from Jenny?’
    Crozier gazed into the remains of his whiskey and shook his head, his eyes brimming.
    â€˜Come on, ye black-hearted hallion,’ Rafferty said. ‘One for the road.’
    Â 
    The streets, as the pair rolled back to College, were still thick with fog, the gaslamps casting barely a glimmer on the ghostly human shapes that passed beneath. Aside from an occasional mumbled ‘excuse me’ at a near-collision, neither man spoke, immersed, as they both were, in their own troubles: preoccupations that, though neither could have known (or imagined), were about to be forgotten in an instant, dwarfed by a sudden and unusual development.
    When they arrived back at chambers, Fitzmaurice surged from the sofa like a spaniel fresh from the reeds.
    â€˜Where the hell have you two been?’ he cried. ‘I was looking all over town.’
    Taken aback, both began to speak at once but Fitzmaurice rushed between them