Read Online The Closed Harbour by James Hanley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hanley
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the right occasion," he said.
"Sometimes sailors come here, and they haven't any papers, but Madame gets them away, she knows people."
"Does she. Imagine that" he said.
"Sometimes, when I look at you, quickly, when you're not noticing, I think, 'there's a frightened man, frightened of his own shadow.' Are you frightened, Captain?"
"Sometimes I try to remember, try hard," Marius said.
She felt her shoulders gripped, his breath on her face, "I've talked to you before, you're not even listening, Lucy."
"What the hell are you talking about," Lucy said.
She went off into another peal of laughter, then switched out the light, "the things I get told when I'm flat on my back," and her un-controllable laughter made Marius really frightened for the first time.
He shook her roughly, "what the hell are you laughing at?"
"You," she said, and clung hard to him.
"I've never been closer to a creature than I have to you" said Marius, and she felt his finger moving over her face, as though he were tracing its structure in the darkness.
"They all say that," she said. "Rubbish."
Feeling the warmth of her cheek he clung more tightly, as though never until this moment had he really been warm.
"And then again," she continued, "I think he's so full of something he wants to get rid of, like a person trying hard to be sick. You want to be sick, Captain, isn't that it, get something off your chest. You could tell me anything, I wouldn't say a word."
He did not answer.
"To be sick in public is not very nice," Lucy said, "you can tell me anything here, I wouldn't snitch, not me, are you being watched, Captain, you are always looking over your shoulder, we girls notice things."
Suddenly she realized he was not there, he had left her, moved away to the bed's edge, had thrown out his arms, one of which hung heavily over the side, one knee was raised, she saw his open eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"I'm not wanted by anybody ," Marius said, "that's my trouble."
He felt her arm on his neck, heard her say, "be sick here, Captain, with me, it's safer."
"Open the bloody window," he cried, "I'm stifling," and she got up and threw back the curtains.
"There."
Moonlight seeped into the room, the tiny box-like room with its high, narrow cell-like window.
"I should never have arrived," he said.
The silence of the room was suddenly heightened, it seemed an eternity before he heard her say, "that's nothing. Lots of people never arrive. Don't talk any more, Captain," she said.
"To hell with talk," Marius said, and turned towards her.
He did not stir again, and in the sudden silence she could hear the heavy breathing.
"Miserable man," she thought, her hand moving up, feeling his mouth, and higher, the muscle, the bone, the flesh that gave to the touch.
The air smelt strongly of scent and sweat, and she was conscious too of a strength in the room. Marius lay quite still. He had fallen asleep. Lucy held to him and shut her eyes.
The house was curiously silent, and only in the yard below did the mongrel dog proclaim a wakefulness that struck flat against the walls, it barked and went on barking. Above their heads an alarm-clock ticked away merrily, and in the red glass bowl under the altar, rocking gently upon the holy oil, the flickering night-light, swaying to and fro like some minute, drunken ship, under the lightest of breezes that came through the window. Each time it flickered the face of the plaster Virgin was illuminated, it seemed to move through continuing patches of light and darkness.
She could feel the relaxed muscles of his forearms, the slackness of the powerful back, the long arm upon her grow heavier still. She wanted to move, but did not. Something had gone out of him, something withdrawn, she had felt it go. She opened her eyes, then quickly closed them, she drew back her head. The eye had opened hard up against an unfamiliar darkness, something strange. She had been staring into the interior of Marius's wide nostrils, at the
"Sometimes sailors come here, and they haven't any papers, but Madame gets them away, she knows people."
"Does she. Imagine that" he said.
"Sometimes, when I look at you, quickly, when you're not noticing, I think, 'there's a frightened man, frightened of his own shadow.' Are you frightened, Captain?"
"Sometimes I try to remember, try hard," Marius said.
She felt her shoulders gripped, his breath on her face, "I've talked to you before, you're not even listening, Lucy."
"What the hell are you talking about," Lucy said.
She went off into another peal of laughter, then switched out the light, "the things I get told when I'm flat on my back," and her un-controllable laughter made Marius really frightened for the first time.
He shook her roughly, "what the hell are you laughing at?"
"You," she said, and clung hard to him.
"I've never been closer to a creature than I have to you" said Marius, and she felt his finger moving over her face, as though he were tracing its structure in the darkness.
"They all say that," she said. "Rubbish."
Feeling the warmth of her cheek he clung more tightly, as though never until this moment had he really been warm.
"And then again," she continued, "I think he's so full of something he wants to get rid of, like a person trying hard to be sick. You want to be sick, Captain, isn't that it, get something off your chest. You could tell me anything, I wouldn't say a word."
He did not answer.
"To be sick in public is not very nice," Lucy said, "you can tell me anything here, I wouldn't snitch, not me, are you being watched, Captain, you are always looking over your shoulder, we girls notice things."
Suddenly she realized he was not there, he had left her, moved away to the bed's edge, had thrown out his arms, one of which hung heavily over the side, one knee was raised, she saw his open eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"I'm not wanted by anybody ," Marius said, "that's my trouble."
He felt her arm on his neck, heard her say, "be sick here, Captain, with me, it's safer."
"Open the bloody window," he cried, "I'm stifling," and she got up and threw back the curtains.
"There."
Moonlight seeped into the room, the tiny box-like room with its high, narrow cell-like window.
"I should never have arrived," he said.
The silence of the room was suddenly heightened, it seemed an eternity before he heard her say, "that's nothing. Lots of people never arrive. Don't talk any more, Captain," she said.
"To hell with talk," Marius said, and turned towards her.
He did not stir again, and in the sudden silence she could hear the heavy breathing.
"Miserable man," she thought, her hand moving up, feeling his mouth, and higher, the muscle, the bone, the flesh that gave to the touch.
The air smelt strongly of scent and sweat, and she was conscious too of a strength in the room. Marius lay quite still. He had fallen asleep. Lucy held to him and shut her eyes.
The house was curiously silent, and only in the yard below did the mongrel dog proclaim a wakefulness that struck flat against the walls, it barked and went on barking. Above their heads an alarm-clock ticked away merrily, and in the red glass bowl under the altar, rocking gently upon the holy oil, the flickering night-light, swaying to and fro like some minute, drunken ship, under the lightest of breezes that came through the window. Each time it flickered the face of the plaster Virgin was illuminated, it seemed to move through continuing patches of light and darkness.
She could feel the relaxed muscles of his forearms, the slackness of the powerful back, the long arm upon her grow heavier still. She wanted to move, but did not. Something had gone out of him, something withdrawn, she had felt it go. She opened her eyes, then quickly closed them, she drew back her head. The eye had opened hard up against an unfamiliar darkness, something strange. She had been staring into the interior of Marius's wide nostrils, at the
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