The Wind Bloweth | Page 8

u's and heavy gutturals were so like Gaidhlig, it seemed
queer wee Shane could not understand the poem; but Uncle Robin
translated it into Gaidhlig:
Os cionn na morbheanna Ta sith--
And the melody of it was like the plucking of a harper's strings. So
much in so little, and every note counted, and the last line like a dim
quaint bar:
Beidh sith agad fein! "You will rest, too!"
A queer thing, the men who were beaten and smiled. A queer thing the
men who, beaten, were more gallant than the winners. A queer thing for
the cummer of Cushendhu to say, she who was so wise after the hot
foolishness of youth, that he was his uncles' nephew and his father's son.
A queer thing that. A queer, dark, and secret thing.
§ 5
The memory of his Uncle Robin stuck in his mind and he going up the
mountain. His Uncle Robin knew all there was to be known in the
world, the immense learned man. When he was spoken to of anything
strange, he had always an explanation for it. When the mirage off
Portrush was mentioned, he could talk at length of strange African
mirages that the travelers see in the desert at the close of day, oases and
palm-trees and minarets, so you would think you were near to a town or
a green pasture and you miles and miles away. And there was a sight to
be seen off Sicily that the ignorant Italian people thought was the work

of Morgan le Fay. And in the Alps was a horror men spoke of and
called the Specter of the Brocken.
All these strange occurrences were as simple as the alphabet to Uncle
Robin. He would explain it as a sight reflected on the cloud and thrown
on a sea of mist or a desert as on a screen, using difficult words, like
"refraction," and words from Euclid, like "angles." But Uncle Alan
would object, Uncle Alan mistrusting difficult words and words from
Euclid. Alan would raise his head from splicing a fishing-rod or
cleaning the lock of a gun or polishing a snaffle:
"You were ay the one for explanations, Robin. Maybe you've got an
explanation for the gift?" By the gift Uncle Alan meant the second
sight.
"Ah, sure; 't is only mind reading and sympathy."
"O my God! Now listen, Robin. You ken when you dragged me from
the horse-show the last time we were in Dublin, to the library of the
What-you-may-call-him--Archæological Society or so'thin'. You ken
the book you showed me about Antrim, and what was seen off the cliffs
one time. There was a great black arm in the air, and a hand to the wrist
of it, and to the shoulder a crosspiece with a ring, like one end of an
anchor. And that disappeared. And then immediately there showed a
ship, with the masts and sails and tackles and men, and it sailed stern
foremost and it sank stern foremost, all in the red sky. And then there
was a fort with a castle on the top of it and there were fire and smoke
coming out of it, as if a grand fight was on. And the fort divided into
two ships, that chased each other, and then sank. Then there was a
chariot with two horses, and chasing that was a strange thing like a
serpent, a snake's head at one end, and a bulk at the other like a snail's
house. And it gained on the chariot and gave it a blow. And out of the
chariot came a bull, and after it came a dog, and the bull and the dog
fought as in a gaming-pit. And then suddenly all was clear, no cloud or
mist or anything in the northern air. Am I right or am n't I? Wasn't that
in the book, Robin More?"
"It was."

"And now, Robin, my man, wasn't that signed by respectable people:
Mr. Allye, a minister, and a Lieutenant Dunsterville and a Lieutenant
Dwine and Mr. Bates and twelve others, all of whom saw it near or
around the time of the Boyne Water? Wasn't it signed by the decent
people?"
"It was."
"And what explanation have you got for that, you and your master of
arts of Trinity College!"
"They were daft--gone in the head. Daft or drunk."
"My song! And maybe John was daft when he saw the vision of
Patmos!"
"I would no' be surprised."
"Na, Robin More; you would not be surprised if you saw a trout that
cantered or a horse that flew. You'd have an explanation. You're the
queer hard man to live with, Robin, with your explanations."
Willie John Boyd, the servant boy, removed his cutty pipe and
hazarded a