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Updated: May 11, 2025
He went to Father Moran to tell him that he would not buy Durkan's boat. He laughed to himself at the thought of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing mackerel round the rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting like one of the ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, for a great cause? The priest met him at the presbytery door. 'Come in, Mr.
What work is there for a man like me to do in Ireland? 'Don't I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan's boat? Isn't there work enough for any man in her? 'But that's not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would it be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught boatloads of mackerel? 'Don't be making light of the mackerel, now.
Then he walked over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. 'Did you hear that Thady Durkan's giving up the fishing? Since he broke his arm he declares he'll never step aboard the boat again. You know the St. Bridget. She's not one of the biggest boats, but she's a very lucky one.
There's nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of her except himself, barring, of course, what's due to the Board. Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats and nets to understand Father Moran's rather involved statement of Durkan's financial position.
Wouldn't there be work enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy Thady Durkan's boat, and stay here and help to keep the people to the old tongue and the old ways? Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow him to think highly of what the priest said to him.
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