Ulysses Part 136

BLOOM: I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to...

CORNY KELLEHER: _(Laughs)_ Sure they wanted me to join in with the mots.

No, by G.o.d, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. _(He laughs again and leers with lackl.u.s.tre eye)_ Thanks be to G.o.d we have it in the house, what, eh, do you follow me? Hah, hah, hah!

BLOOM: _(Tries to laugh)_ He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don't know him (poor fellow, he's laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together and I was just making my way home...

_(The horse neighs.)_

THE HORSE: Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome!

CORNY KELLEHER: Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen's and I told him to pull up and got off to see. _(He laughs)_ Sober hea.r.s.edrivers a speciality. Will I give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in Cabra, what?

BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop.

_(Stephen, p.r.o.ne, breathes to the stars. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the horse. Bloom, in gloom, looms down.)_

CORNY KELLEHER: _(Scratches his nape)_ Sandycove! _(He bends down and calls to Stephen)_ Eh! _(He calls again)_ Eh! He's covered with shavings anyhow. Take care they didn't lift anything off him.

BLOOM: No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick.

CORNY KELLEHER: Ah, well, he'll get over it. No bones broken. Well, I'll shove along. _(He laughs)_ I've a rendezvous in the morning. Burying the dead. Safe home!

THE HORSE: _(Neighs)_ Hohohohohome.

BLOOM: Good night. I'll just wait and take him along in a few...

_(Corny Kelleher returns to the outside car and mounts it. The horse harness jingles.)_

CORNY KELLEHER: _(From the car, standing)_ Night.

BLOOM: Night.

_(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and turn. Corny Kelleher on the sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Bloom's plight.

The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher rea.s.sures that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow nod Bloom conveys his grat.i.tude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher again rea.s.suralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand a.s.suralooms Corny Kelleher that he is rea.s.suraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephen's hat, festooned with shavings, and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder.)_

BLOOM: Eh! Ho! _(There is no answer; he bends again)_ Mr Dedalus!

_(There is no answer)_ The name if you call. Somnambulist. _(He bends again and hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate form)_ Stephen! _(There is no answer. He calls again.)_ Stephen!

STEPHEN: _(Groans)_ Who? Black panther. Vampire. _(He sighs and stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels)_

Who... drive... Fergus now And pierce... wood's woven shade?...

_(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)_

BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. _(He bends again and undoes the b.u.t.tons of Stephen's waistcoat)_ To breathe. _(He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen's clothes with light hand and fingers)_ One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. _(He listens)_ What?

STEPHEN: _(Murmurs)_

... shadows... the woods ... white breast... dim sea.

_(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom, holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks in the distance.

Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on Stephen's face and form.)_

BLOOM: _(Communes with the night)_ Face reminds me of his poor mother.

In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him. _(He murmurs)_... swear that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts... _(He murmurs)_... in the rough sands of the sea... a cabletow's length from the sh.o.r.e... where the tide ebbs... and flows ...

_(Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on guard, his fingers at his lips in the att.i.tude of secret master. Against the dark wall a figure appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an eton suit with gla.s.s shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, kissing the page.)_

BLOOM: _(Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly)_ Rudy!

RUDY: _(Gazes, unseeing, into Bloom's eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling. He has a delicate mauve face. On his suit he has diamond and ruby b.u.t.tons. In his free left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a violet bowknot. A white lambkin peeps out of his waistcoat pocket.)_

-- III --

Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fas.h.i.+on which he very badly needed. His (Stephen's) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes. .h.i.t upon an expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the cabman's shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near b.u.t.t bridge where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk and soda or a mineral. But how to get there was the rub. For the nonce he was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as the duty plainly devolved upon him to take some measures on the subject he pondered suitable ways and means during which Stephen repeatedly yawned. So far as he could see he was rather pale in the face so that it occurred to him as highly advisable to get a conveyance of some description which would answer in their then condition, both of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, always a.s.suming that there was such a thing to be found. Accordingly after a few such preliminaries as brus.h.i.+ng, in spite of his having forgotten to take up his rather soapsuddy handkerchief after it had done yeoman service in the shaving line, they both walked together along Beaver street or, more properly, lane as far as the farrier's and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the livery stables at the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street round by the corner of Dan Bergin's. But as he confidently antic.i.p.ated there was not a sign of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably engaged by some fellows inside on the spree, outside the North Star hotel and there was no symptom of its budging a quarter of an inch when Mr Bloom, who was anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by emitting a kind of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his head, twice.

This was a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently there was nothing for it but put a good face on the matter and foot it which they accordingly did. So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the Signal House which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the direction of Amiens street railway terminus, Mr Bloom being handicapped by the circ.u.mstance that one of the back b.u.t.tons of his trousers had, to vary the timehonoured adage, gone the way of all b.u.t.tons though, entering thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, he heroically made light of the mischance. So as neither of them were particularly pressed for time, as it happened, and the temperature refres.h.i.+ng since it cleared up after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they dandered along past by where the empty vehicle was waiting without a fare or a jarvey. As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be returning and the elder man recounted to his companion _a propos_ of the incident his own truly miraculous escape of some little while back. They pa.s.sed the main entrance of the Great Northern railway station, the starting point for Belfast, where of course all traffic was suspended at that late hour and pa.s.sing the backdoor of the morgue (a not very enticing locality, not to say gruesome to a degree, more especially at night) ultimately gained the Dock Tavern and in due course turned into Store street, famous for its C division police station.

Between this point and the high at present unlit warehouses of Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, a.s.sociated with Baird's the stonecutter's in his mind somehow in Talbot place, first turning on the right, while the other who was acting as his _fidus Achates_ inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke's city bakery, situated quite close to where they were, the very palatable odour indeed of our daily bread, of all commodities of the public the primary and most indispensable. Bread, the staff of life, earn your bread, O tell me where is fancy bread, at Rourke's the baker's it is said.

_En route_ to his taciturn and, not to put too fine a point on it, not yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom who at all events was in complete possession of his faculties, never more so, in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word of caution re the dangers of nighttown, women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which, barely permissible once in a while though not as a habitual practice, was of the nature of a regular deathtrap for young fellows of his age particularly if they had acquired drinking habits under the influence of liquor unless you knew a little jiujitsu for every contingency as even a fellow on the broad of his back could administer a nasty kick if you didn't look out. Highly providential was the appearance on the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was blissfully unconscious but for that man in the gap turning up at the eleventh hour the finis might have been that he might have been a candidate for the accident ward or, failing that, the bridewell and an appearance in the court next day before Mr Tobias or, he being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he meant to say, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a chap when it got bruited about. The reason he mentioned the fact was that a lot of those policemen, whom he cordially disliked, were admittedly unscrupulous in the service of the Crown and, as Mr Bloom put it, recalling a case or two in the A division in Clanbra.s.sil street, prepared to swear a hole through a ten gallon pot. Never on the spot when wanted but in quiet parts of the city, Pembroke road for example, the

guardians of the law were well in evidence, the obvious reason being they were paid to protect the upper cla.s.ses. Another thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any description liable to go off at any time which was tantamount to inciting them against civilians should by any chance they fall out over anything. You frittered away your time, he very sensibly maintained, and health and also character besides which, the squandermania of the thing, fast women of the _demimonde_ ran away with a lot of l s. d. into the bargain and the greatest danger of all was who you got drunk with though, touching the much vexed question of stimulants, he relished a gla.s.s of choice old wine in season as both

nouris.h.i.+ng and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues (notably a good burgundy which he was a staunch believer in) still never beyond a certain point where he invariably drew the line as it simply led to trouble all round to say nothing of your being at the tender mercy of others practically. Most of all he commented adversely on the desertion of Stephen by all his pubhunting _confreres_ but one, a most glaring piece of ratting on the part of his brother medicos under all the circs.

--And that one was Judas, Stephen said, who up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any kind.

Discussing these and kindred topics they made a beeline across the back of the Customhouse and pa.s.sed under the Loop Line bridge where a brazier of c.o.ke burning in front of a sentrybox or something like one attracted their rather lagging footsteps. Stephen of his own accord stopped for no special reason to look at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the light emanating from the brazier he could just make out the darker figure of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the sentrybox. He began to remember that this had happened or had been mentioned as having happened before but it cost him no small effort before he remembered that he recognised in the sentry a quondam friend of his father's, Gumley. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to the pillars of the railway bridge.

--Someone saluted you, Mr Bloom said.

A figure of middle height on the prowl evidently under the arches saluted again, calling:

--_Night!_

Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the compliment. Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the _qui vive_ with just a shade of anxiety though not funkyish in the least. Though unusual in the Dublin area he knew that it was not by any means unknown for desperadoes who had next to nothing to live on to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some secluded spot outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the Thames embankment category they might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell swoop at a moment's notice, your money or your life, leaving you there to point a moral, gagged and garrotted.

Stephen, that is when the accosting figure came to close quarters, though he was not in an over sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. Lord John Corley some called him and his genealogy came about in this wise. He was the eldest son of inspector Corley of the G division, lately deceased, who had married a certain Katherine Brophy, the daughter of a Louth farmer. His grandfather Patrick Michael Corley of New Ross had married the widow of a publican there whose maiden name had been Katherine (also) Talbot.

Rumour had it (though not proved) that she descended from the house of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its kind and well worth seeing, her mother or aunt or some relative, a woman, as the tale went, of extreme beauty, had enjoyed the distinction of being in service in the washkitchen. This therefore was the reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who now addressed Stephen was spoken of by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley.

Taking Stephen on one side he had the customary doleful ditty to tell.

Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings. His friends had all deserted him. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called him to Stephen a mean b.l.o.o.d.y swab with a sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor expressions. He was out of a job and implored of Stephen to tell him where on G.o.d's earth he could get something, anything at all, to do. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to finish. Anyhow he was all in.

--I wouldn't ask you only, pursued he, on my solemn oath and G.o.d knows I'm on the rocks.