Grand Canary by A. J. Cronin Page A

thumb, inhaled gravely, then dusted himself gently with the palm of his hand.
    â€˜â€œWhin the object of his desire has faded,”’ he quoted oracularly, ‘“then he departs and is seen no more.” That’s Playto, that is. But faith, ye wouldn’t be askin’ me to go yet awhile. Me that took a proper notion On ye the minnit ye come into the saloon. Sure, I knew booze was the trouble as soon as I clapped oi on ye. It’s sent many’s a good man for the count. I followed the beer meself in the ould days. Cyards and the dthrink – ah! –’ He sighed and looked at the other sideways with a sort of sly solemnity. ‘But divil the one or t’other am I after touchin’ now. Mind ye, despite me faults and failings I’ve always spoke the thruth. Let a man be tinder to the thruth and I’ll rispect him. And me heart draws to a man that’s had a rap from distiny. Faith, I’ve had a troublous life meself, up and down, off and on, since first I seen the light in Clontarf sixty odd year ago. Me folks was poor – proud people, mind ye, from Tralee, but poor. I got me early eddication holdin’ horses’ heads in Sackville Street, and learned me letters spellin’ the Guinness’s advertisements. Ye wouldn’t believe it, me that reads Playto like a scholard.’ He paused, as for encouragement, but Harvey’s eyes remained tightly shut. ‘ Then I went in for the game, the glorious game. A foine set figure of a lad was I. Unsurpassable. There wasn’t a man could stand in the ring against me. In Belfast I knocked Smiler Burge over the ropes with one crack of me left. Sure, I’d have been the world’s champeen if I hadn’t bruk me leg. But bruk me leg I did. And carry the mark to this day. Faith, it robbed the world of a champeen. That’s how I came to emigrate in the black nineties.’
    Harvey groaned.
    â€˜Is that the end? If so, will you kindly get out?’
    â€˜The end?’ cried Jimmy. ‘Faith, ’twas only the beginning. Since then hivin alone knows what I done. I marked billiards in Sydney. Then I marked time in Mexico in wan of them popgun revolutions. The next year I was in the Bull Gulch gold rush, and the next I took a pub in San Francisco. But sure, I couldn’t stand the loife. Then I tried a turn at farmin’ in the Southern States. And I liked that best of all. If ever the ship comes in, that’s where ye’ll find Jimmy C. – wid a cow and some hens in his own backyard. But I took a foolish fit and wandered off to Colorado, scratchin’ silver. And after that I travelled with Professor Sinnott’s circus. Dear old Bob, I hopes to see him soon. I’m joinin’ him in Santa Cruz, ye see – there’s business all fixed and waitin’ – a great affair. Ah, but these was the palmy days with old Bob Sinnott’s show. Every evenin’ for a twelve-month I intered the din of the untamable lioness Dominica. She’d attacked and killed three keepers – so ’twas said upon the posthers. But in the end she died on Bob and me. ’Twas somethin’ out of the monkey-house got in her grub. And thin the circus busted.’ He sighed, thrust his thumb in his armhole. ‘’Twas a sorry day, I tell ye, when I took good-bye of Bob.’
    Harvey turned restlessly in his bunk.
    â€˜I wish to God you’d take good-bye of me.’
    â€˜I’m goin’,’ cried Jimmy. ‘Of course I’m goin’. I can see yer feelin’ none too grand. I only wanted to inthrojuice meself and let ye know I’m at yer service. Faith and I am. And don’t be judgin’ by appearances, me boy. I may look down on me luck.’ He stopped and straightened his paste tie-pin with an air. ‘Sure, ’tis only timporary. ’Tis now I’m on the best thing ever was. Wid the Professor, ye understand. A foine affair.