The Man With The Wooden Leg

________________________________________________
Title:     The Man With The Wooden Leg
Author: Seumas O'Brien [More Titles by O'Brien]

"A man who loves nature and lives near the country need never be lonesome," said Micus Pat to his friend Padna Dan, as they strolled along a mountain road near the southwestern coast.

"That's very true," said Padna. "And if a man owes a lot of money, he has the consolation of knowing that he will not easily be forgotten."

"Like every other man of poetic temperament, I think more about the glories of nature, for they are both inspiring and incomprehensible, than about what I owe, or the people who were good enough to oblige me with the loan of money," said Micus.

"'Tis real decent of you to say so, and you such a judge of everything but your own idiosyncrasies," said Padna.

"Look around and about you," said Micus, "from the north to the south, and from the east to the west, and from the west again back to the east, and from the south again to the north, and if you are not impressed with the wonder and grandeur with which you are surrounded, you might as well give up your life to reading the newspapers and talking politics at the street corners."

"Beauty confronts us at every turn. The saffron moon peeps through the vista of pines on the distant hills, the sky is all ablaze with twinkling stars, and not a sound is heard except that of my own voice, and the creak of a toad in the rushes," said Padna.

"I can hear, or I seem to hear," said Micus, "the rippling of a brook as it joins the Owenacurra on its way to the sea, and it is the sweetest of all music, because it is of nature's own making, and more soothing to a troubled mind or a weary spirit than all the melodies made by man."

"I hear no sound but my own voice," said Padna.

"Put your ear to the ground, and if you are not deaf you will hear the maddening rush of the brook and the low murmuring of the Owenacurra and the heart of the world itself beating," said Micus.

"I will, then," said Padna, as he put his ear to the ground.

"Well," said Micus, "do you hear anything?"

"I hear the pulse of the earth."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"'Tis wonderful, surely."

"I knew you'd like it."

"Sure 'tis myself always loves to walk alone by the seashore when the world does be sleeping, and listen to the melancholy cry of the sea lark and the curlew, and the soft splash of the waves against the boulders on the beach on a dark night without any light at all, except maybe the flash from the lightship, or the glow from the binnacle lamp of some passing vessel, and she sailing over the seas with a cargo of groundsel for the Emperor of Japan's linnets. There's an eeriness about the night that creates an atmosphere of poetry and mystery, the like of which we never experience in the most glorious sunshine, even when we might be in love itself, and listening to the silvery speech of the most beautiful woman in all the land," said Padna.

"When a man is listening to the silvery speech of some lovely woman, he never knows how expensive 'tis going to be for him afterwards."

"The silvery speech of women is a magnificent thing, but their golden silence is a more magnificent thing still."

"That's true indeed, but let us forget all about the contrary creatures for a little while, and I will tell you a story that the Emperor of Russia would give his two thumbs and two little fingers to hear."

"And what is it all about?" said Padna.

"'Tis the story of a man with a wooden leg," said Micus.

"Begin," said Padna.

"Well," said Micus, as he filled his pipe, "as I was sauntering home the other night, I dropped into the Half Way House to get a toothful of something to keep out the cold, when lo and behold! who should come in and flop down beside me but a one-legged sailor and he minus an eye as well, and no more hair on his head than you'd find on a yellow turnip. He was the first to speak, and he up and ses: 'Good night, stranger,' ses he, as he poked the fire with his wooden leg, and lit his pipe with a piece of his old straw hat.

"'Good night kindly,' ses I.

"''Tis a cold kind of night,' ses he.

"'The devil of a cold night entirely,' ses I.

"''Tis indeed,' ses he, 'and a bad night for a poor man who has neither friends nor relations, or one to bother their heads about him, or even the price of a drink inself.'

"'If 'tis a drink you want,' ses I, 'all you have to do is to call for it, and I will pay. What will you have?' ses I.

"'I'll take all I can get for nothing, and give as little as I can help in return. I'm a capitalist by temperament, but poor because I didn't get a chance of exercising my talents,' ses he.

"'I suppose you wouldn't say no to a glass of whiskey,' ses I.

"'I'd say no to nothing except a black eye,' ses he.

"'You couldn't afford to have an eye blackened, when you have only one good eye already,' ses I. And then and there I treated him to two glasses of whiskey, and when he had them swallowed, I up and ses: 'How did you lose your lamp?' meaning his eye, of course.

"'In a duel with the King of Spain,' ses he.

"'Glory be to the Lord!' ses I. 'All over a woman, I presume?'

"'Of course,' ses he. And then the salt tears flowed down his sunken cheeks and formed a pool on the floor.

"'Tell me,' ses I, 'was she a very handsome woman?'

"'She was the most beautiful woman in all the world,' ses he, 'except my seventh wife, who was more beautiful than Venus, herself.'

"'And what happened to your seventh wife?' ses I.

"'Oh, she was too fond of her own people, and they got her to do all their washing and scrubbing, and never gave her a moment's rest until they killed her with hard work. And then the devil blast the one of them came to the funeral, and 'twas strangers that lowered her into the grave, and no one but myself and the clergyman said a prayer for the repose of her soul,' ses he.

"'She was too good to be remembered, I suppose,' ses I.

"'She was, God help us,' ses he. 'But my ninth wife wasn't either a Venus or a Helen of Troy. She was so ugly that one day when we were going over a bridge, the river stopped, and didn't begin to flow again until she left the town.'

"'You had a lot of wives,' ses I.

"'Yes, I had a few, but 'tis a mistake to marry more than ten or twelve times,' ses he.

"Well, when I saw that his grief was getting the better of him, I ses: 'Let us not talk any more about your eye, but tell me how you lost your leg, and I'll give you another glass of grog.'

"'I never told that story to any one for less than three glasses of grog and a small bottle of rum to bring home with me for the morning, except one time I told it to the Shah of Persia for nothing, when he promised me the hand of his favourite daughter in marriage.'

"'Tell me the story, whatever 'twill cost,' ses I.

"'All right,' ses he. And then he moved closer to the fire, and this is what he told:

 

"'It was a cold and stormy night in the long long ago. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed and the rain fell down in torrents. I was aboard ship in the middle of the ocean; the stars and moon were screened and not a light was seen except a glimmer from the port side of another vessel labouring in the storm. Peal after peal of thunder resounded until one thought that the gods of war on all the other planets had gone mad, and were discharging their heavy artillery at the earth, trying to shatter it to atoms. The canvas was torn from the yards, and spar after spar fell, until nothing but the masts remained.

"'And as the storm grew in intensity, the ship lurched and the masts themselves fell, and crashed through her as though she was only made of matchwood; and in their fall they killed as many as five and twenty men at a time. And as the last mast made splinters of the deck house, the good ship Nora Crena sank beneath the waves never to rise again.

"'Not a soul was saved but myself, and in those days I was a great swimmer, and I swam and swam until I found a piece of floating wreckage, and clung to it the way you'd see a barnacle clinging to the rocks. I remained that way for three days and three nights, without a bit to eat or anything to read, and nothing to drink but salt water. And sure I need not tell you that the more you'd drink of that, the more thirsty you'd become.

"'Well, at the end of the third night, I was cast up on a little bit of a rock no larger than a stepmother's supper, and while I was wondering how I could get a bit to eat or reach the shore in safety, a large fish about the size of a shark, but much more refined and respectable looking, came up from the depths of the sea, and as he came ashore and sat beside me, he up and ses: "God bless all here," ses he.

"'"And you too," ses I.

"'"How are you feeling to-day?" ses he.

"'"A good deal worse than yesterday," ses I. "Can't you see, you foolish omadhaun, that I am all dripping wet from being saturated in the waters of the briny deep, for this last three days and nights?"

"'"That's nothing at all," ses he. "How would you like to be dripping wet like myself for twenty years or more?"

"'"Are you as old as all that?" ses I.

"'"Every day of it, if not more. My poor mother, God help her, had all our birthdays written down in a book, and she had us all called after the saints of America. Originality was a weakness with her, but now she's dead and gone, more's the pity!" ses he.

"'"What did she die of?" ses I. "Too much old talk, maybe."

"'"She didn't die a natural death at all, but was caught in a net and sold to a fishmonger, the same as everyone belonging to me, both young and old, and the list includes aunts and uncles, first and second cousins, fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law, and they the first blight on a man's happiness. And here I am now," ses he, "and I a poor orphan and the last of my name and race." And then the tears began to come to his eyes, and when he had stopped weeping he up and ses: "Do you know," ses he, "that I'm a misanthrope?"

"'"I'm not a bit surprised at that," ses I, "if, as you say, all belonging to you were philanthropists, and gave up their lives for the sustenance and maintenance of the people in the great world beyond. Indiscriminate philanthropy like that would make a pessimist of any one. Howsomever, things might be better or worse. You might have been caught in a net yourself, and sold to a family of tinkers, and I'm sure all your relations wouldn't bother their heads about you, or care whether you were boiled or fried. They would logically conclude that as they were so numerous, they could afford to lose at least one of the family," ses I.

"'"About that I haven't the remotest doubt," ses he. "But what I can't understand is why some women will marry their husbands so that they can help their own sisters' or brothers' children, as the case may be."

"'"Well," ses I, "once women arrive at the age of indiscretion, there's no use trying to understand them."

"'"Of course," ses he, "the great trouble with women, I'm thinking, is that they don't understand themselves or any one else, either."

"'"Be all that and more as it may," ses I, "even the most foolish women are well able to look after themselves. But old talk like this would never get me home. And unless you will take me on your back and swim with me to the shore, 'tis the way I'll be after dying both from cold and starvation."

"'"There was many a better man died from hunger," ses he. "And better men have died from believing all their wives told them. Howsomever, I will take you to the shore on one condition."

"'"And what may that be?" ses I.

"'"Well," ses he, "you must promise that you will never again taste a piece of fish while you live."

"'"Why, that's an easy matter," says I. "Sure, of course, I'll promise you that much, or as much more if you like."

"'"That's just like a coward," ses he. "A coward would promise anything to save his skin, and make a promise as quickly as he'd break one."

"'"I don't see for the life of me why you won't take the word of a decent man," ses I.

"'"Wisha, who told you that you were decent?" ses he. "Can't I see and tell what you are by the shifty look in your eye. To be candid, I wouldn't trust you as far as I'd throw you, and you with two ferrety eyes, and they so close together that only a rogue, a thief, a bla'guard, or a bully could own them, and one of them blind at that."

"'"If you only knew how I lost that winker," ses I, "'tis the way you'd be taking off your hat to me, and shaking hands with yourself for having met the likes of me."

"'"God knows," ses he, "there's no limit to the conceit of some and the ignorance of others. I have eaten my dinner off men and women too, that wouldn't recognise you at a dog fight. There was the King of Himyumhama and his royal daughters, for instance, who were drowned in the Skidderymackthomas. And there were two American millionaires besides, and they as tender and as nourishing as a boiled chicken or a porterhouse steak."

"'"I bet you," ses I, "that you never ate Irish stew."

"'"And who the devil would want to eat Irish stew but the Chinese? Sure the Irish themselves never eat it. However," ses he, "there's no use trying to convince me against my will. I'm a man of fixed ideas, and people with fixed ideas are nearly as impossible as women. Nevertheless, I suppose you are anxious to get to the shore, and for that I don't blame you. Like us all, you carry your character in your face, and I won't lose much by parting company with you. I'm sorry all the same that you haven't an honest countenance, because a face like yours would do you no more good among decent people than letters of introduction in the United States of America, and they are no more use to any one than the measles or the whooping cough."

"'"Well," ses I, "don't you think you are talking too much and doing too little?"

"'"That may be. Sure, my poor father always told me I'd make a good politician. Howsomever, sit up on my back, and I'll bring you safe and sound to the shore." And without waiting to say as much as thank you, or anything else, I jumped on his back, and he swam for a few hundred yards, but, lo and behold you! all of a sudden he stopped and turned around to me and ses: "Do you know what?" ses he. "I'm losing confidence in you."

"'"Indeed, then, is that so?" ses I.

"'"Yes, it is then," ses he, "and the little bit of respect I had for you in the beginning is nearly all gone."

"'"Is there any way by which I can inspire confidence in you, at all?" ses I.

"'"I don't believe there is," ses he. "I'm a patriot and want to do something for the race, besides making speeches about the achievements of my ancestors and getting well paid for my pains, and getting all my children and relations good jobs as well."

"'"And what is it you want to do, at all?" ses I.

"'"I want to make sure," ses he, "that you will keep your promise never to eat fish again."

"'"I will keep my promise," ses I.

"'"I don't believe a word of it," ses he. "There's nobody forgotten sooner than a good friend. But I'll make sure that you will remember me, as the traveling salesman said to the landlady, when he ran away without paying for his board and lodging."

"'"'Tis true," ses I, "that we forget our friends when they cease to be an advantage to us, and equally true that we lose respect for our enemies when they cease to torment and persecute us, but all the same I can't see why you won't finish your job, considering the good start you have made."

"'"I never pay any attention to flattery," ses he. "But whist. I have an idea! I suppose you often heard tell of the law of compensation?"

"'"Many and many a time," ses I.

"'"All right then!" ses he. "You know, of course, that we must pay a price for everything we get in this life, and some, they say, pay in the other world as well. That being so, then you must pay for your passage to the shore. And as I haven't had my breakfast yet, I think you couldn't do better than forfeit one of your legs, and in that way you would serve the double purpose of paying for your journey and helping me to appease the pangs of hunger. And, besides, you will be sure to remember me, and 'tis a matter for yourself whether you will keep your promise or not." And then and there he did a double somersault, and I fell into the water, and before I had realized what had happened, my leg was bitten off. And while I tried to keep myself afloat by hanging on to some seaweed, he up and ses: "Bedad," ses he, "that was the nicest meal I had for many a long day. And I think now that I like the Irish better than the French, Germans, Scotch, Americans, or the Australians, and I have tasted them all."

"'"How do you like the English?" ses I.

"'"Don't talk to me about the English," ses he, "I wouldn't taste one of them if I had to go hungry for ever, for the stupid way they treated the Irish."

"'"God knows then, in a way, I wouldn't blame you. But 'tis a queer thing for you to leave me here to drown when you could carry me safely to the shore."

"'"Tell me, are you a Protestant?" ses he.

"'"I am, God forgive me," ses I.

"'"I am sorry for that," ses he.

"'"And why?" ses I.

"'"Well, I don't think I can carry you to the shore at all now,' ses he.

"'"How's that?" ses I. "Sure all the Protestants are fine, decent, respectable people."

"'"They think they are," ses he. "But who's to know whether they are or not? The Protestants would eat fish every day of the week, if they could get it, but the Catholics will only eat it on Fridays, and wouldn't eat it then if they could help it. And moreover, the Protestants have all the good jobs in Ireland and the United States, but for choice, 'tis a Freemason I'd be myself, if I could."

"'"That's not the question at all," ses I. "Are you, or are you not, going to bring me to the shore?"

"'"Well, I'm about sick and tired of you now, anyway," ses he, "so sit up on my back, and I'll land you at the Old Head of Kinsale." And sure enough he kept his word, and I was landed high and dry on the rocks of my native parish in less time than you'd take to lace your shoe. And all he said as he went his way was: "Good-by, now, and don't forget all I told you. I have an invitation to lunch at the Canary Islands, and I'll be late if I don't hurry." And with that, he plunged beneath a breaker, and that was the last I ever saw of the fish who ate my leg off, and made me a cripple for life."

"'And did you keep your promise?' ses I to the man with the wooden leg, when he had finished his story."

"'No,' ses the man with the wooden leg, 'but instead, I swore ten thousand holy oaths that I would eat nothing but fish, if I lived to be as old as Batty Hayes's old goat. And that's why I am always so thirsty.'"

"Bedad, but that's a queer story, surely," said Padna. "I suppose the fish would have eaten his other leg off, only it might spoil his appetite for lunch."

"Very likely," said Micus.

"Well, I don't believe I could beat that for a yarn," said Padna.

"I wouldn't try, if I were you," said Micus.

[The end]
Seumas O'Brien's short story: Man With The Wooden Leg

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN