A Son of Aran (7 page)

Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hush,' he said to Tadhg, ‘what is that sound coming out of the mist?' ‘It's like as if somebody was moaning or calling for help. Listen; there it is again. Can you hear it?'

Both men strained their ears to listen—only the cry of a gull and the wash of waves against the boat reached them.

‘It must be a seal,' said Tadhg, ‘the call of the mother seal to her young is like the cry of a human being. What person would be calling for help at this hour in any case? We haven't seen sight of a boat since we left Connemara.'

Peadar wasn't convinced. Saying no more, he remained alert for any repetition of the sound. None came. It was well past midnight when they got their first glimpse of land.

‘Begorra, Tadhg, we're on the right course after all. If I'm not mistaken that's the island ahead to starboard; we should reach it within the hour.'

Kilronan and the village above the pier were silent as a grave when they tied up the hooker at the quay wall.

‘Come on, Eileen, we're home at last,' said Peadar, as he raised the girl on his shoulder and set out on the half mile trek to his house, with Tadhg following close behind. There was no welcoming hearth fire to greet them. Máirtín or his mother had no forewarning of their arrival. They partook of whatever food they had brought with them and, having prepared sleeping quarters for Tadhg and Eileen, Peadar threw himself down on a mat of straw on the kitchen floor. Tomorrow he would make arrangements for fuel and food; to-night all would sleep soundly after their voyage.

Cackling of hens and heavy footsteps aroused him from his dreams; he figured that either Máirtín or his mother had arrived to feed the poultry and milk the cow. Without waking the others, he pulled on his corduroy trousers and homespun jacket, and tried to open the door. Someone had bolted it on the outside. Looking through the window he alerted Máirtín and signed to him to undo the bolt. Máirtín was astonished to see him—he felt sure nobody was in residence when he secured the door late the night before after returning from a wake on the other side of the island. He greeted him warmly and asked where had he been these past months. Taking him to one side, Peadar related to him in confidence the story of his wife's infidelity and departure to Spain. Máirtín was silent as he listened. Two nights previously when he came to close the hens' coop, he suspected somebody was in the house but he didn't disturb them. At this stage he decided not to mention the incident to Peadar.

‘Better by far for everyone that she's gone,' he said. ‘Who wants a wife or a mother of her kind? Eileen will come to realise that in her own time. On the island you can make it known that you and your wife have separated. Situations like this are not unknown here. Young women become dissatisfied with their isolation from the outside world. Sometimes they leave their husbands for the bright city lights. Don't worry, Peadar, with time and patience everything will come right. We'll try to console Eileen until she becomes used to the changed circumstances. I'm sure my mother will help. Women are better than men at handling those situations.'

‘Surely, that is a coat that Saureen used to wear when we lived in Galway—how come it is hanging in our room?' Peadar asked himself when, later that day, he had time to look more closely around the house and prepare sleeping quarters for Eileen.

‘Saureen hasn't been to Aran for several months—did she leave it behind the last time? There's a faint smell of perfume too? I haven't taken much notice of what scent Saureen has been using since Eileen was born. Maybe the smell is coming from the coat! It doesn't matter now in any case—she'll not want for fine clothes or perfumes in Spain.'

On visiting Máirtín's house that morning to discuss plans for resuming fishing, Máirtín's mother had something to tell: ‘A strange woman with a scarf tied closely around her head and face called here in the dark two nights ago. I asked her to come in but she declined—she just stood at the door in the half-light. She wanted to know if Peadar O'Flaherty had come back to Aran. She gave no reason for her inquiry. I don't trust strangers looking for information about islanders. I told her I had no knowledge of your movements, and that I couldn't enlighten her. I said if she told me her name and where she was living, I would let her have any news I heard. She didn't reply; she went away without saying another word. I thought that very peculiar.' Peadar listened but he didn't pursue the conversation.

‘Is it possible that Saureen hasn't gone to Spain with the captain after all?' he thought. ‘Is this part of another devious plan hatched between them to get hold of Eileen? Where is Saureen now? Is she on the island awaiting her opportunity? I must take precautions for Eileen's safety.'

‘Tadhg, will you do me a favour?' he asked, later that day. ‘Máirtín and I have arranged to join the crew of a bád mór (big boat) to fish for hake seventy miles out to sea where a shoal is running. An opportunity of this kind doesn't often arise—a catch of hake will command a good price. We leave on the tide tomorrow morning. I would be grateful if you would stay here until I return and keep an eye on things for me. Eileen will stay with Máirtín's mother and she will go to school from there. I have another reason for asking you. An attempt was made to kidnap Eileen before we left Galway— I'll tell you the full story some time. I am afraid the people concerned might try again here in Aran. If you oblige me by staying, I'll be forever grateful to you.'

‘Of course, Peadar, I'll stay as long as you want. I have no urgent reason to go back to the mainland. I can start applying the poultice while I'm here. If I run short of clay, I won't have far to go for more. Off you go fishing. I'll keep an eye on things and I'll be here when you get back.'

Having given his word to the crew of the fishing boat, Peadar didn't want to leave them in the lurch. Although he was concerned for Eileen's safety, he was confident that she would be all right until they returned from the fishing trip in a day or two. To be doubly sure he confided his fears to the local Garda sergeant, and asked him to be on the alert for strangers coming or going on the ferry at Kilronan. Despite heavy seas and high waves blown up by a westerly gale, their first day's fishing was successful. All hands worked in concert to pull net after net laden with fine specimens of fish. At nightfall the boat was laden to gunwale—it was time to turn for home. Exhausted after their strenuous labour, the crew took turns at catching up on sleep. A bright morning sun dazzled their eyes as they entered port.

‘What is all the commotion about?' one of them asked. A crowd of people had gathered around some object on the pier. Berthing the boat, not waiting to discharge their haul of fish, they pushed their way through the assembled throng. The parish priest was there with the local sergeant. A cordon had been formed to keep the public from approaching too near. Within the circle lay the partly clothed body of a female that had evidently only recently been taken from the water.

‘Does anybody recognise this woman?' the sergeant asked each man in turn as they approached. Peadar stood over the corpse for a moment before he bent down to look more closely. Ashen faced, he reeled and grabbed hold of Máirtín.

‘It's my wife,' he cried aloud. ‘Saureen, Saureen, what has happened to you? I thought you had gone to Spain. What foul deed has brought you to this state? Who has done this to you?'

‘Peadar Ó Flathartaigh, come with me to the barracks,' said the sergeant. ‘There are questions I must ask of you. Guard, you will arrange for the removal of the body to the boat house. I will contact the medical doctor and the coroner. This woman appears to have been dead for some time. An inquest must be held as soon as possible to establish the cause and time of her death.'

‘Mr. Ó Flahertaigh, you have stated that the deceased is your wife. Will you recount to me all you know about her presence on Aran, how long she has been here, and her movements over these past days. You will also relate to me when and where you last saw your wife alive, what transpired between you on that occasion, and where you have been in the intervening period. I must warn you before you begin that you are a prime suspect for her death—anything you tell me may be used in evidence later.'

Peadar trembled at the thought that he might in any way be accused of Saureen's death. He told the sergeant he had nothing to hide; he himself was the most surprised to see her body on the pier. He told him of their parting in Galway, following which he understood that she had gone to Spain with the captain of the Sansander. He told him of their attempt to take his daughter Eileen with them, and how he had thwarted their plans. He had no knowledge of when or for what purpose his wife had come to Aran. He himself had been away fishing for the past two days and had only just returned.

Listening intently, the sergeant reminded Peadar of his earlier statement to him that he was afraid a further attempt might be made to kidnap his child. He asked if this concern was occasioned by a fear that his wife had somehow returned to the island. Peadar replied that he heard a report of a strange woman having inquired about him, but he had no knowledge as to who that might have been. He had no reason to assume that his wife was anywhere in the country.

‘I believe you are telling the truth,' said the sergeant, ‘but there are unanswered questions in this case. You are free to go, but do not attempt to leave the island until police investigations are complete. I sincerely hope that you have proof of where you were and who was with you these past days.'

‘I can vouch for every hour since I left Galway on the day before the storm and I have witnesses to bear this out,' answered Peadar.

The inquest was brief and inconclusive. Peadar identified the body as that of his wife, Saureen Uí Fhlathartaigh. Two local fishermen, out checking their lobster pots in the early hours that morning, testified that they found the body floating in the sea about a mile off shore. Sorcha, Máirtín's mother, recognised the deceased as the woman who had called to her door very late on the night of the storm to ask about Peadar. The doctor who examined the corpse certified that death resulted from drowning. There were no marks on the body to indicate force. The time of death was uncertain, but he estimated that this had occurred within the past seventy-two hours. The inquest returned a verdict of death by drowning—there being no evidence to show how the deceased had got into the water.

Eileen wept uncontrollably as her mother was laid overboard in Kilronan lifeboat station.

‘Daddy, Daddy,' she cried, ‘why has this happened to us? Why didn't Mammy come to Aran with us in the hooker? We could all have been so happy here—why, Daddy, why?' Sorcha and other women tried to comfort her but to no avail. Peadar would have liked to have Saureen waked in his own home but local superstition held that, in the event of death outside the family home, a corpse should not be taken back there. After Mass in the local chapel on the following day, she was laid to rest in the Ó Flathertaigh family plot alongside his grandparents and great grandparents.

‘Isn't it ironic,' thought Peadar, ‘that Saureen, despite her deviousness and infidelity, now occupies my mother's family grave, while she is condemned to resting among strangers in Bohermore cemetery in Galway. Lord, have mercy on them both,' he prayed as the sparse Aran earth was piled over the coffin.

Investigations into Saureen's death continued for some months. The sergeant learned that a woman answering the description of the deceased had boarded a boat at Rosaveel on the evening of the storm. The captain remembered that she was dressed in a long brown coat, and insisted on remaining on deck despite his warning of impending gales and heavy seas. He had seen her disembark as soon as the boat berthed, and wondered why she hurried away so quickly. Peadar accounted for his voyage in the hooker from Galway along with Eileen on the night before the storm and told how they had sheltered in Kilkieran for two nights. Tadhg confirmed this and told of their slow journey to Aran the following day, arriving in Kilronan at midnight, and going direct to Peadar's cottage. Máirtín gave evidence of coming to the cottage late that night after he returned from a wake, in order to close the hens' roost and milk the cow. He was unaware of anybody being in the house when, before departing he shot the outside bolt on the door. He returned late on the following morning and was surprised to find Peadar knocking on the window signalling that he wanted to be released. Máirtín's mother gave her account: ‘Awakened by a cry in the night, I went to the corner of the house from where I had view of a stretch of the beach below. I could see nothing, but I heard splashing in the tide off shore—a low moan followed by a gurgling sound. It sounded like seals mating. A head bobbed for a moment above the water and disappeared. Then I heard a wailing sound far out at sea. I couldn't tell if it was the rising wind, the cry of a seal, or a human voice—it was impossible to identify above the surge of the tide.'

All told, it appeared to be a case of accidental drowning, but the sergeant, a meticulous policeman, was still not happy. He had never experienced a case like this before.

‘Could it be murder?' he wondered.

Several factors pointed to Peadar as the possible culprit:

‘Had he not a motive? Deserted by his wife who had left him for another man, fear that she was again planning to take Eileen away from him, reprisal for the shame she had brought on them—all good reasons for getting rid of her. Had he opportunity? His alibi was cast iron; he had witnesses to cover all his movements from Galway to Kilkieran and from there to his house in Aran. Had he engaged somebody else to do her in? That would have involved violence—there was no evidence of force having been used.

‘Is there a missing factor?' he wondered. ‘Hold on for a minute! Peadar testified that on the night of their return to Aran, Tadhg and the girl had gone to sleep in the room while he bedded down on the kitchen floor. Could he not have slipped out quietly and met with his wife? A woman had been around earlier looking for him? He may have suspected it was his wife. Luring her into the water on some pretext wouldn't have taken very long. He could easily have been back in the house before morning. I believe there's a hole in his testimony!'