Seamus O ’Fallon had felt better throughout the day and had finally gotten some sleep, the headache just a low throb that he could easily enough control.
They sat around a small table in the master’s cabin, the rough seas calmed enough that it was possible to keep a cup of coffee nearly full on the long table and not have to hold onto it to keep it from spilling. Young Martin looked green still, but what better color for an Irishman. O ’Fallon smiled to himself. And it could have been sea sickness.
They were listening to the BBC overseas broadcast.
The death toll from the bombing of the RUC barracks was only a disappointing one hundred and two confirmed. But, there were still five unaccounted-for bodies and several of the injured were listed as critical.
When the broadcast was over, O’Fallon said, “Martin. There’s a good lad and turn off the radio, will ya now.”
“Yes, Seamus.”
Martin turned off the radio, one of those things made to look like the old-time cathedral radios but thoroughly modern and very expensive.
“Well, lads,” O ’Fallon began to the dozen men seated at the table. “We coulda done better with the bombing if we hadn’t had to do it so hastily. But, on the bright side, the bloody Brits’ll barely have time to catch their wind before we do the next job. they will.”
“Seamus?”
It was Patrick Kehoe speaking, a burly young fellow who was as fine a man with a knife as anyone O’Fallon had ever seen. “What is it, Paddy?”
“What is it We’re after doing out here? You can be tellin ’ us now, sure.”
“Ahh, that I can, boyo. We’re engaged in a great endeavor, we are. When I talked about this one, I said chances were none of us would come back alive outa it, didn’t 1 now.”
“For fact you did, Seamus,” Paddy Kehoe responded enthusiastically.
“Well, the truth of it is now that I think none of us will ever touch the dry land again unless they overpower us and carry our bodies home. And the likelihood of that happenin ’ is real remote, it is.”
“What are we up to, Seamus?” Young Martin asked.
“It began when a fine fella, a son of the old sod if ever there was one, told me, ‘Seamus. Could you and the lads be after usin’ my fancy boat? ’ And I says, ‘Well, might be a nice thing for an outing with the ladies and the little ones, for sure.’ And then I got to thinkin’, I did. And I asked this fine fella—a Yank he was and a regular giver to The Aid and a helper many’s the time when we needed somethin’ real special like a LAWs rocket or somethin’. So, I says to him, ‘Would ya be after offerin’ us a crew to boot?’ And himself, he says, ‘Sure.’ Well, lads, the opportunity was too much for the O’Fallon to resist, it was. And me mind started cookin’ up on somethin’ nobody done to the bloody Brits for a long time. And, would any of ya be after guessin’ what it might be I thought up?”
There was dead silence except for the subtle throb of the engines and the creaking of the vessel around them.
“Well, then I suppose it’s me that’ll be tellin’ ya, now. I says to myself, ‘O’Fallon. How could we hurt the bloody Brits real bad and at the same time get ourselves publicity all over the world for the cause? How could a handful of stout-hearted lads such as ourselves do somethin’ that might really force the Brits out? And then it came to me—like somethin’ in a flash, it did. I was walkin’ along and me mind was driftin’ to thoughts of Mary McKeown and takin’ a roll in the covers and then the inspiration comes on me. We hijack us a British ship. One of them humongous floatin’ hotels they suck up to the rich boys with. ‘So fine,’ I says, ‘O’Fallon.’ But it had to be a special boat, it did. Any you lads remember how that one tooth of mine was hurtin’ the devil outa me?”
“I remember, Seamus!” Sean Dougherty announced. “You was worse tempered than usual, you were, Seamus!” Everybody laughed and so did O’Fallon.
“That’s the truth of it, Jack. But I was there polishin’ my arse listenin’ to all the drillin’ noises and all and tryin’ to get it outa me mind, I was. And I picked up some silly woman’s catalog or magazine. I started lookin’ through. And there, right in front of me eyes, was what I wanted all along. Me tooth even stopped hurtin’, lads. And that’s the Lord’s own truth, it is. But I seen the tooth puller anyhow.”
“What was her name, Seamus?” Paddy asked.
“The Empress Britannia, lads.” The cigarette in the comer of his mouth was nearly out and he lit another with the butt.