Page 14 of The Irish Gypsy
"Let's go," said Patrick, gathering up hishat and gloves. He stepped inside the Man & Scythe Pub andcaught Bradshaw's eye. Terry followed them to the pub's coachyard,where the carriage was parked. "Gibraltar Mill, and hurry."
The well-lit streets of the town center weresoon left behind as they drove into the poorer district. Thecarriage rumbled over the greasy cobbles of the dark street.Despite the poor light, they could see that a large crowd wasgathered. The bookkeeper was very nervous. "You can't tackle themon your own, sir; they're a bunch of mad buggers. You know what theIrish are when roused, nothing but brutes and savages. Oh! Beggin'yer pardon, sir."
Patrick's teeth showed like a wolf's. "Isuppose we are," he said reflectively. A crowd of men, women andchildren hurled curses and abuse when they spotted the carriage.They brandished bottles, bricks and assorted clubs as Patricklooked out from the carriage and saw their hard-set features.
"Put the clogs to 'im! Blood-suckin'bastard!" and a woman's shrill, "The old pisspot, let me get mehands on 'im!"
Patrick's tall figure emerged from thecarriage and someone shouted, "It's not the O'Reilly, it'sPatrick!"
He looked into the anger-filled faces whereusually he saw only despair.
"I won't let my father cut wage rates andthat's a promise. Now disperse and go home. You know you arebreaking the law, or do I have to read you the Riot Act?" Theystood back silently from the tall man. His evening dress told themclearly that they were slum rats and he was of the ruling class. Hecontinued, "The saying is that the Irish would rather fight thaneat, but I don't believe that. I think putting food on the table ismore important to you than rioting. Now take my word about thewages and go."
Slowly the crowd started to melt away.Patrick let out a relieved breath and cursed his pigheaded father."By Christ, you can always tell a Lancashire man, but you can'ttell him much!" He glanced around. "Where's Bradshaw?" he askedTerry.
"The minute the carriage stopped, he madehimself scarce. I'm after thinking he was scared shitless,sor."
"It looks like we've seen the back of themall, but before we go I'd better make sure there's nobody lurkingabout in the mill yard. You'd better stay with the horses,lad."
Patrick went around the back of the mill,heard and saw nothing and turned to retrace his steps when a darkfigure from the shadows darted out and attacked him. It allhappened so quickly; Patrick grappled with the burly figure and sawthe blade's glint just in time. He recoiled sharply and the knifethat was intended for his heart slid against his breastbone and wasdiverted upward through the breast muscle. The impact felled him,and his attacker took off over the mill wall into the blackness.Terry thought he heard a scuffle, but he was loath to leave thehorses alone. When Patrick didn't return he knew he had no choice.When he saw him, Patrick was struggling to his feet.
"Yer bleedin', sor!"
"Rather badly, I'm afraid. Here, take myscarf and wad it up against my shoulder."
Terry helped him to the carriage, terrifiedthat he would expire before he could get help for him.
"Do you think you can drive?" askedPatrick.
"Of course I can drive. Just tell me where tofind the doctor, sor."
"No, I don't want this news spread all overBolton. Just get me home." Inside, he fell back against the squabs.As the carriage jolted over the cobbles, the pain became almostunbearable and a couple of times he had to force his eyes to focuson a point in front of him to keep from passing out. Terry drovelike a demon and soon he swept up the driveway to Hey House andhelped Patrick up the front steps. Terry put his fingers to hismouth and gave an ear-piercing whistle. Three girls camerunning.
"Kitty, get some boiling water and bandages!"Terry shouted.
Julia cried, "My God, what's happened?"
"He's been stabbed," said Terry shortly.Barbara screamed.
Julia said, "Bring him upstairs."
Patrick leaned heavily on Terry's shoulder ashe climbed to his bedroom and sank gratefully into a wing-backedchair. Barbara was before him on her knees, clutching him, her faceblanched so white, Patrick feared for her. "Don't faint,sweetheart. Go and sit quietly over there. Everything will befine."
"My God, look at the blood! Stay still,Patrick, you're getting it on everything!" cried Julia. "I've gotto get the doctor."
"That's what I say, miss," Terry saidfirmly.
"No, Julia love, please. I want to keep itquiet," gasped Patrick.
Kitty came in with the bowl of hot water andtowels; her heart was in her throat with fear for him. She kneltbefore him and said to Terry, "Take off his coat and let's see howbad it is."
Patrick looked down into her face and thoughthe was hallucinating. Tears made her eyelashes spiky. He said,"Well, I'll be damned--Lady Jane Tut!"
Terry eased him out of his coat, and Juliatook scissors and cut away the shirt, which was now crimson.Kitty's heart contracted as her fingers gently washed the uglywound. Patrick never took his eyes from her. Her lips were slightlyparted and her breath quickened. He was so close to her, he couldsee the tiny blue veins in her eyelids and smell the wild heatherfragrance of her hair. It was as if he were alone with her; thebabble of Julia and Barbara faded away from his consciousness. Hercloseness was like an aphrodisiac. His nostrils quivered and hishand went without volition to her curls.
She sprang up and said, "It's not going tostop bleeding on its own; we'll have to bind it tightly. I'll fetcha clean sheet and tear it into strips," and she was gone.
Patrick looked at Terry with recognition."That's where I've seen you before."
