The Blooding of James

James waited a little way from the lantern on the bridge. He was learning, day by day, to melt into the shadows, to disappear into the folds of the city. Dublin at night in this district was a sinister place, filled with the songs and complaints of vagabonds, the hard laughter of shapes clustered in doorways, and the dark fury of coaches hurtling down the quays as fast as the coachman could drive the horses, in case anyone thought to stop them. It was a place where, at any moment, your life might be threatened or terminated with a few quick knife thrusts. How many grim-faced Kellys and Hares were lurking here now, waiting for their victims?

James froze as he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder, but it was only Darcy, who seemed to materialise out of nowhere like a spectre. He felt James start.

‘Is James Brown frightened of his own shadow?’ Darcy laughed. He led the way across the bridge, entered a tavern at the sign of the Bear, and called for gin. He drank swiftly and urged James to do the same.

‘We’ll need it this night,’ he said. ‘Courage, guile and warmth, all in a single bottle. It’s a miracle, don’t you find?’

James struggled with the drink, wishing he could spit it out.

Darcy enjoyed his clear discomfort. ‘Can’t drink either, James Brown? One of these days, if you live much longer, we’ll find something you can do.’

They went out onto the street, climbed up the hill under the gaunt frowning cathedral and made their way through the narrow streets around the castle until they arrived at the Quaker graveyard. James shivered as they entered. He thought of the graveyard where Miss Deakin had brought him the day he left his father’s house for the last time. That had been the beginning of his misfortune, and he didn’t expect much good could come from this encounter. They stood behind some trees at the back and watched the entrance. They didn’t have to wait long before they heard low voices and a soft whistle. Darcy whistled back and they could soon make out the shapes of Kelly, Hare and Kitty. Kelly and Hare didn’t look too secure on their feet, James noticed, and as they approached he could smell enough drink on their breath to wake half the poor Quakers from their rest. Only Kitty was light on his feet, tense and ready for action.

‘What’s the plan?’ he asked Darcy as soon as they reached the cover of the trees.

‘To die rich,’ Darcy said evenly. ‘Tonight’s lodgement will be provided by some stuffed buck who is about to stray from The Beaux Walk, with a little help from our young and good-looking friend here.’ He indicated James with a mock bow.

The Beaux Walk was one of the sides of Stephen’s Green. James had often strolled there with his father in the days before he met Miss Deakin. That was when his father still wanted to be seen with a son.

Darcy then despatched the three Uglies, as James thought of Kelly, Hare and Kitty, to conceal themselves behind the pavilion in the centre of the green. A little later, he and James set out for the Walk. They kept out of sight of the avenue, working their way from tree to tree. The hour was late and it was dark, and surely no sensible person would be so foolish as to venture abroad on the walk now? But Darcy was cunning, and it seemed he knew his fellow man better than James; they weren’t long in the Green before they saw a man coming towards them from the other end. Almost as if Darcy had invented him, he was portly and his walk was unsteady. He waved his cane in the air for no reason James could see, for he couldn’t have seen them, and he was singing softly to himself.

‘This is it,’ Darcy whispered fiercely to James. ‘We’ll have him for supper, and maybe for breakfast and dinner too. Who knows what he might have with him? Now, James Brown, this is where you earn your onions. I want you to approach the gentleman in great distress, and tell him some boys have taken your unfortunate father and are even now robbing him just a little way from this very path. Mind you look convincing. Have you ever been to the theatre in Smock Alley?’

James had once, but he doubted if the acting he had seen there would be much use to him here.

‘You must look pitiful, with weeping and wailing as if your poor little life depended on it. If he has any honour, he’ll run to your aid. Go to it now, quickly.’