At Swim-Two-Birds

I have the cards in my hand, said Shorty, gather in closer, my arm isn’t a yard long. How many hands now?

  Is Sweeny playing, asked Casey, are you, Sweeny?

  Have you any money, Sweeny? asked Slug.

  Six hands, said the Good Fairy placidly, everybody is playing.

  You in the pocket, barked Shorty, if you think you are going to play cards you are making a bloody big mistake.

  Mad Sweeny was sprawled on a chair in an attitude of in-advertence, idly plucking the blood-stiffened lichen from the gash in his nipple with an idle finger. His eye-lids fluttered as he addressed himself to the utterance of this stave.

  They have passed below me in their course, the stags across Ben Boirche, their antlers tear the sky, I will take a hand.

  Tell me, said the Pooka putting his hand in his pocket, are you going to play?

  Of course I am going to play, said the Good Fairy loudly, certainly I am going to play, why shouldn’t I play?

  We are playing for money, said Shorty roughly, what guarantee have we that you will…pay?

  My word of honour, said the Good Fairy.

  You have your porridge, said Shorty.

  How are you going to take the cards if you have no hands and where do you keep your money if you have no pocket, answer me that, asked Slug sharply.

  Gentlemen, interposed the Pooka civilly, we really must learn to discuss difficulties without a needless resort to acrimony and heat The party in my pocket would not be long there if I were not satisfied that he was of unimpeachable character. The charge of cheating or defaulting at cards is a vile one and a charge that cannot be lightly levelled in the present company. In every civilized community it is necessary that the persons comprising it shall accept one another at their face value as honest men until the contrary is proved. Give me the cards and I will deal out six hands; one of which I will pass into my pocket Did I ever tell you the old story about Dermot and Granya?

  Take the cards if you want them, snapped Shorty, and talk about face value, that fellow has no face. By God it’s a poor man that hasn’t that much.

  We’ll try anything once, said Casey.

  No, said the Good Fairy, I never heard that particular story. If it is dirty, of course, etiquette precludes me from listening to it at all.

  The Pooka shuffled clumsily with his long-nailed fingers.

  Go on, man, deal, said Slug.

  It is not dirty, said the Pooka, it is one of the old Irish sagas. I played a small part in it in the long ago. The card-playing here brings it all back – how many hands did I say I would deal?

  Six.

  Six fives are thirty, one of the even numerals. Where women were concerned, this Dermot was a ruffian of the worst kind. Your wife was never safe if you happened to live in the same town with Dermot.

  Don’t waste so much time, man, said Slug.

  You don’t mean to tell me, said the Good Fairy, that he ran away with your kangaroo? Hurry and pass my cards in to me here. Come on now.

  There you are now, said the Pooka, six hands. No he did not, all this happened before the happy day of my marriage. But what he did do, he ran away with Granya, the woman of Finn Mac Cool By Golly it took a good man to do that.

  The light is very bad in here, said the Good Fairy, I can hardly see my cards at all.

  Don’t be striking matches in there, that’s all, said the Pooka, fire is one thing that I don’t like at all. Throw your cards on the floor, gentlemen. How many cards can I give you, Mr Casey?

  Three.

  Three gone over, said the Pooka. He had not gone far I need not tell you when Finn had started off behind him in full chase. It was hard going in the depth of winter for the fleeing lovers.

  A knot of green-topped bunch-leaves, said Sweeny, is our choice from a bed of sorrel, acorns and nuts and cresses thick, and three cards we desire.

  Three for you, said the Pooka.

  Put your hand in your pocket, said the Good Fairy, take out the two cards on the left hand side and give me two new ones.

  Certainly, said the Pooka. One dark night the woman and Dermot strayed into my cave in their wanderings, looking if you please for a night’s lodging. I was working at that time, you understand, in the west of Ireland. My cave was by the seaside.

  What in the name of God are you talking about? asked Shorty. It’s up to me, I go threepence.

  One thing led to another, continued the Pooka, till Dermot and myself agreed to play a game of chess for the woman. Granya was certainly a very fine-looking lump of a girl. I will advance the play to fivepence.

  I cannot hear right, said the Good Fairy querulously, what are we playing for – a woman. What use is a woman to me?

  Fivepence, you dumb-bell, shouted Shorty.

  I will double that, said the Good Fairy. Tenpence.

  At this stage certain parties signified that they were retiring from the game.

  So we sat down to the chessboard the two of us, said the Pooka. My guest succeeded in getting white and opened with pawn to king’s bishop four, apparently choosing the opening known as Byrd’s, so much favoured by Alekhine and the Russian masters. I will make it a shilling.

  One and sixpence, said Shorty quickly.

  I will see one and sixpence, said the Good Fairy.

  I replied with a simple pawn to king’s three, a good temporizing move until my opponent disclosed the line he was to follow. The move has received high praise from more than one competent authority. I will also see Mr Andrews for the sum of one and sixpence.

  All right, the two of you are seeing me for one and six, said Shorty, there you are, three kings, three royal sovereigns.

  Not good enough, I am afraid, said the Good Fairy in a jubilant manner, there is a nice flush in hearts here in the pocket. Take it out and see it for yourselves. A flush in hearts.

  None of your bloody miracles, shouted Shorty, we’re playing for money! None of your trick-o’-the-loop, none of your bloody quick ones! If you try that game I’ll take you out of that pocket by the scruff of the bloody neck and give you a kick in the waterworks!

  What was his next move do you think? asked the Pooka. You would hardly credit it – pawn to king’s knight four! I have a full house here, by the way.

  Give us a look at it.

  Three tens and two twos, said the Pooka quietly. All I had to do was to move my queen to rook five and I had him where I wanted him. Pay up, gentlemen, and look pleasant.

  A good-looking one and sixpence, growled Shorty as he groped in the interior of his fob-pocket.

  Queen to rook five was mate, of course, said the Pooka, mate in two, a world record. Stop tugging like that or you will tear my little pocket

  One moment, said the Good Fairy in a whisper, could I see you alone in the hallway for a couple of minutes. I want to discuss something private.

  Hurry up for. barney’s sake till we have another round, said Slug rubbing his hands, give the luck a chance to circulate.

  There you are, one and sixpence, said Shorty.

  Most certainly, said the Pooka courteously, pray excuse us for a moment, gentlemen, the Fairy and myself have a private matter to discuss in the hallway, though itself it is a draughty place for colloquy and fine talk. We will be back again directly.

  He arose with a bow and left the room.

  What is it, he asked politely in the passage.

  When you won the woman, said the Good Fairy, what did you do with her is it any harm to ask?

  Is that all you require to know?

  Well no. As a matter of fact…

  You have no money!

  Exactly.

  What explanation have you to offer for such conduct?

  You see, I always win at cards. I…

  What is your explanation?

  Don’t talk so loud, man, said the Good Fairy in alarm, the others will hear you. I cannot be disgraced in front of a crowd like that.

  I am sorry, said the Pooka coldly, but I am afraid it is my duty to make the matter public. If
it were my own personal concern solely, it would be otherwise, of course. In the present circumstances I have no alternative. The others allowed you to play on my recommendation and you have callously dishonoured me. I cannot be expected to stand by and see them exploited further. Therefore…

  For God’s sake don’t do that, don’t do that under any circumstances, I would never get over it, it would kill my mother…

  Your concern for your family does you credit but I’m afraid it is too late to think of that.

  I will pay back every penny I owe you.

  When?

  Give me time, give me a chance…

  Nonsense! You are merely wriggling, merely…

  For God’s sake, man…

  I will give you one alternative to instant exposure and you can take it or leave it. I will forget the debt and advance you an extra sixpence – making two shillings in all – provided you relinquish absolutely your claim to influence the baby that is expected inside.

  What!

  You can take your choice.

  You cad, you bloody cad!

  The Pooka twitched his pocket with a profound shrug of his gaunt shoulders.

  Which is it to be? he inquired.

  I’ll see you damned first, said the Good Fairy excitedly.

  Very well. It is all the same to me. Let us go inside.

  Stop a minute, you, you…. Wait.

  Well?

  All right, you win. But by God I’ll get even with you yet if it takes me a thousand years, I’ll get my own back if I have to swing for it don’t forget that!

  That is very satisfactory, said the Pooka with a grateful re-dawn of his urbanity, you have undoubtedly done the right thing and I offer you my congratulations on your pertinacity. Here is the extra sixpence. Let us rejoin the ladies.

  You wait! Even if it is a thousand years, you wait!

  In regard to the little question you asked me about the lady I won as a result of my skill at chess, it is a long story and a crooked one-shall we go in?

  Go in and be damned to you!

  The Pooka re-entered the room with his civil smile.

  There’s your hand, said Slug, hurry up, we haven’t all day, man.

  I’m sorry for the delay, said the Pooka.

  The company again fell to card-play.

  After a moderately lengthy interval a good-quality Yale key grated in the lock and the door of the bedroom was thrown open, a broad beam of gaslight pouring in on the players as they turned their questioning faces from their cards to the light. The pallor of the glare was tempered about the edges by a soft apparently-supernatural radiance of protoplasmic amethyst and spotted with a twinkling pattern of red and green stars so that it poured into the ante-room and flowed and eddied in the corners and the shadows like the spreading tail of a large male peacock, a glorious thing like muslin or iridescent snow or like the wispy suds of milk when it is boiling over on a hob. Temporary discontinuance of foregoing.

  Note on Constructional or Argumentive Difficulty: The task of rendering and describing the birth of Mr Trellis’s illegitimate offspring I found one fraught with obstacles and difficulties of a technical, constructional, or literary character – so much so, in fact, that I found it entirely beyond my powers. This latter statement follows my decision to abandon a passage extending over the length of eleven pages touching on the arrival of the son and his sad dialogue with his wan mother on the subject of his father, the passage being, by general agreement, a piece of undoubted mediocrity.

  The passage, however, served to provoke a number of discussions with my friends and acquaintances on the subject of aestho-psychoeugenics and the general chaos which would result if all authors were disposed to seduce their female characters and bring into being, as a result, offspring of the quasi-illusory type. It was asked why Trellis did not require the expectant mother to make a violent end of herself and the trouble she was causing by the means of drinking a bottle of disinfectant fluid usually to be found in bath-rooms. The answer I gave was that the author was paying less and less attention to his literary work and was spending entire days and nights in the unremitting practice of his sleep. This explanation, I am glad to say, gave instant satisfaction and was represented as ingenious by at least one of the inquirers concerned.

  It may be usefully mentioned here that I had carefully considered giving an outward indication of the son’s semi-humanity by furnishing him with only the half of a body. Here I encountered further difficulties. If given the upper half only, it would be necessary to provide a sedan-chair or litter with at least two runners or scullion-boys to operate it. The obtrusion of two further characters would lead to complications, the extent of which would not be foreseen. On the other hand, to provide merely the lower half, videlicet, the legs and lumbar region, would be to narrow unduly the validity of the son and confine his activities virtually to walking, running, kneeling and kicking football. For that reason I decided ultimately to make no outward distinction and thus avoided any charge that my work was somewhat far-fetched. It will be observed that the omission of several pages at this stage does not materially disturb the continuity of the story.

  Penultimum, continued: Momentarily shutting out the richness of the beam with his stout form furrily outlined in the glow, a stocky young man had entered the ante-room and stood looking with polite inquiry at the group of card-players about the fire. His dark well-cut clothing was in sharp contrast to the healthless rubiness of his face; there were pimples on his forehead to the size of sixpences and his languorous heavy eyelids hung uneasily midway over the orbs of his eyes; an air of slowness and weariness and infinite sleep hung about him like a cloak as he stood there standing.

  The Pooka arose with a slight bow and pushed back his chair.

  Three hundred thousand welcomes, he said in his fine voice, we are honoured to be here at the hour of your arrival. We are honoured to be able to present you with these offerings on the floor there, the choicest and the rarest that the earth can yield. Please accept them on behalf of myself and my friends. One and all we have the honour to wish you good day, to trust that you had a pleasant journey and that your dear mother is alive and well.

  Gentlemen, said the newcomer with gratitude in his deep voice, I am deeply touched. Your kind gesture is one of these felicities that banish for a time at least the conviction that wells up in the heart of every newcomer to this world that life is empty and hollow, dis-proportionately trivial compared with the trouble of entering it. I thank you with all my heart. Your gifts, they are…

  He searched for a word with his red hand as if to pull one from the air.

  Oh, that is all right, said the Good Fairy, these things are plentiful and it was small trouble to bring them here. You are very welcome.

  How much of that tack did you carry? snapped Shorty.

  Fighting in front of strangers, said the Good Fairy, that, of course, is the height of vulgarity. The parents that brought you up must have had a terrible cross to bear.

  You have your porridge, said Shorty.

  The world is wonderful all the same, said Orlick. Everybody has a different face and a separate way of talking. That is a very queer little mouth you have in your clothes, Sir, he added to the Pooka. I have only one mouth, this one in my face.

  Do not worry or wonder about that, said the Pooka. That is a little angel that I carry in my pocket.

  Glad to know you, Sir, said the Good Fairy pleasantly.

  A little angel? said Orlick in wonder. How big?

  Oh, no size at all, said the Pooka.

  I am like a point in Euclid, explained the Good Fairy, position but no magnitude, you know. I bet you five pounds you could not put your finger on me.

  Five pounds that I would not put my finger on you? repeated Orlick in imperfect comprehension.

  If you don’t mind, said the Pooka, let us confine ourselves for the moment to what is visible and palpable. Let us proceed by degrees. Now look at these fruits and jars on the floor there…

/>   Yes, said the Good Fairy, Irish apples, go where you will in the wide world you won’t get better There’s a great flavour off them certainly.

  We are honoured that you accept our poor offerings, said the Pooka humbly. You are very kind, Mr…

  According to my mother, said Orlick, my little name is Orlick.

  Orlick Trellis? said the Pooka. That is very satisfactory.

  Shorty tore his sombrero from his head and waved it in the air.

  Three cheers for little Orlick, he shouted, three cheers for Orlick Trellis!

  Not too loud, counselled the Pooka with a motion of his head towards the door of the bedroom.

  Hip Hip…Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!

  There was a short pleased silence.

  May I ask, said Slug civilly, what your plans are, Sir?

  I have nothing settled yet, said Orlick. I shall have to have a good look round first and find out where I stand. I must say I was very surprised that my father was not present here to welcome me. One expects that, you know, somehow. My mother blushed when I asked about it and changed the subject. It is all very puzzling. I shall have to make some inquiries. Could anyone oblige me with a cigarette?

  Certainly, said Slug.

  These things in the baskets, they are bottles, said Shorty.

  Why not open them and have a drink, said Orlick.

  A modest celebration is undoubtedly called for, concurred the Good Fairy.

  I say, said the Pooka in a whisper putting his hand in his pocket, I must ask you to leave my pocket for a minute. I wish to talk alone with our host. You remember our agreement?

  That is all very well, said the Good Fairy querulously, but where am I to go? Put me on the floor and I’ll be walked on, trampled to my death. I am not a door-mat.

  Eh? asked Slug.

  Be quiet, whispered the Pooka, what is wrong with the mantel-piece?

  Nothing, I suppose, said the Good Fairy sulkily, I am not a door-mat.

  Very well, you can lean on the clock until I am ready to take you back, said the Pooka.

  He approached the fireplace with a few aimless paces and then turned courteously to his host. Shorty, stooping among the offerings, was engaged with earthen jars and kegs and wax-crusted green bottles, fondling and opening them and pouring dusky libations into medhers of old thick pewter.