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Updated: May 25, 2025
Sweeny was an object of suspicion and dislike to the sergeant. Therefore he stirred the gravel on the quay again and again looked at the gravel in the boat. There is no law against buying gravel; but it seemed to the sergeant very difficult to believe that Sweeny had bought four boatloads of it. Joseph Antony Kinsella felt that some explanation was due to the sergeant.
He sat quiet and silent; sometimes he slightly moved his lips; he was whispering a name. Glover and Sweeny, who had only known him for a month, and supposed that he had always been what they saw him, considered him an eccentric. "Naterally not quite himself," judged the skipper. "Some folks is born knocked on the head." "May be officers is always that a way," was one of Sweeny's suggestions.
He was a man of corpulent figure and flabby muscles. He disliked the smell of fresh air and walking was a trouble to him. The five loafers on Brannigan's window sills looked at him with some amazement when he approached them. "Is Peter Walsh here?" said Sweeny. "I am here," said Peter Walsh. "Where else would I be?"
Sweeny, commonly known as "Pete," was a lawyer of ability, and was generally believed to be the plotter of the quartet. Nast transformed his middle initial B. into "Brains." Connolly was just a coarse gangster. There was some reason for the Ring's faith in its invulnerability.
Sweeny, who had stared at the morsel with hungry eyes, now broke out, "I tell ye, ate it. The liftinant wants ye to." "Divide it fair," answered Glover, who could hardly restrain himself from sobbing. "I won't touch a bit av it," declared Sweeny. "It's the liftinant's own grub." "We won't divide it," said Thurstane. "I'll put it in your pocket, Glover.
At Thurstane's reprimand he trotted close up to him with exactly the air of a circus Jocko who expects a whipping, but who hopes to escape it by grinning. "Why haven't you fired?" repeated his commander. "Liftinint, I dasn't," answered Sweeny, in the rapid, jerking, almost inarticulate jabber which was his usual speech.
What I told him was that Timothy Sweeny had the gravel bought off me at five shillings a load and that it was likely he'd be sending it by rail to some gentleman up the country that would have it ordered from him." "And what did he say to that?"
Glover was used up; he was trembling from head to foot with fatigue; he had reached shore just in time to fall on it instead of into the river. "Ye'd make a purty soldier," scoffed Sweeny, a habitual chaffer, like most Irishmen. "It was the histin' that busted me," gasped the skipper. "I can't handle a ton o' water." "Godamighty made ye already busted, I'm a thinkin'," retorted Sweeny.
She rubbed her eyes; the blur defined itself as a man in priestly black. Not Mr. Fetherston, a she had first believed, but Father Sweeny. "A wolf in sheep's clothing!" thought Frederica, using as was her wont, the well-worn phrase with guileless zest.
"Don't seem to need much help. The river doos the paddlin'; wish it didn't. No 'casion to send anybody aloft. I'll take a seat in the stern 'n' mind the hellum. Guess that's all they is to be done." "You dum paddywhack," he presently reopened, "what d'ye break yer paddle for?" "I didn't break it," yapped Sweeny indignantly. "It broke itself."
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