OUT OF THE DARKNESS
OUT OF THE DARKNESS (An Irish story by Sydney Peck)
Red Kelly couldn’t see a hand in front of him in the blackness. The cold windy night had been threatening to become even worse as the hour advanced to well after eleven. No stars, and the clouds gathered into a thunderous mass with occasional vicious flashes of lightning. The waves in the bay grew bigger and more dangerous with each swash, battering the rocks mercilessly. As he walked he stumbled again and fell over the rocks on the unfamiliar beach for the twentieth time. He checked his knife sheath out of habit, pushed his fingers roughly through his wild ginger hair, and cursed under his breath. He kept going determinedly.
Big shadowy figures were common enough in this district, with a high security prison only a few miles away. Red looked like any of the tramps and wanderers often seen hereabouts, scruffily dressed in an old sweater and torn jeans held up by a broad leather belt. The belt supported a sheath holding his bloody knife. His sinewy brown hands, scarred with cuts from knife slashes, continually hitched up the belt.
His pants and sweater were sodden, but they had half dried now after his three mile stumbling struggle along the rocky beach. He would have run across the fields but couldn’t get up the cliffs in the dark. He was angry, tired and hungry. He felt as if he had run forever. At length he reached a bay with a wider sandier beach and lower cliffs, and spotted a light in an isolated cottage in th distance, huddled under a small hill. In a second, he left the slow progress of the beach and cut inland across the rough undergrowth, stumbling into ditches in his hurry in the pitch dark. At least the wind had dropped now.
In the darkness he stumbled into a short gravel path which led to the cottage. Stepping on it in the dark, the crunch of the gravel pierced the silence so he jumped quickly on to the grass next to it. He went on tiptoe so as not to be heard. A few metres ahead the weathered wooden front door was not locked, a common practice in country areas. The brown hand lifted the latch and he slipped inside with practised agility.
There was silence except for a woman’s voice singing softly to herself in the kitchen. She was cooking something and the noise of her work would probably cover his own movements. That was good, he thought, for she could be an unnecessary distraction before he got his main task done. He closed the door silently behind him and sneaked up the stairs. In the glimmer of light from the kitchen downstairs he could just make out the three doors on the landing. He could also make out that one door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open slowly and silently.
Inside the darkened bedroom a tiny girl was sitting on the bed with her back to him with knees drawn up under the blanket. Her curls spilled over the blanket around her narrow shoulders. Looking out over the wooden window-sill she was staring wide-eyed at the flashes of lightning over the sea. The window was slightly open and the howl of the wind added a ghostly touch to the lightning flashes which mesmerised her. She was completely unaware of his presence.
Checking his knife sheath, the shadowy shape tiptoed quickly across behind her, and smoothly slipped a heavy brown hand over her mouth to stop her calling out. Her eyes widened in momentary disbelief. Then she turned and saw the knife reflected in a lightning flash - and she relaxed, as he released her silenced mouth.
“Oh daddy, I’m glad you got home safe! Oh, your pants are wet. I was so worried when you were so late. Did you catch many tonight?” She hugged him tightly.
“Strong offshore breeze picked up when I was a mile or two out, Princess. Had to pull the boat in at Pitcher’s Cove. Couldn’t get in with the swell at the bay down our cliff. Had to walk along the beach three miles. Yeah, caught a few all right.” He spoke in a practised technical tone. His daughter understood the technicalities well.
“Got some cod for your mother, but I want to surprise her so I came up here first without any noise. Wanted to say goodnight. I knew you’d be waiting up for me.” He smiled and his voice softened.
Her red curls jiggled in nodded unison against his brown hand as she hugged him again.
“So you can stop worrying now, Princess. Go to sleep. I’m going to sneak down and surprise your mother with these fish. You’ll be eating them tomorrow,” Red laughed, “Goodnight, sleep tight.” He kissed her curls and retreated through the doorway and closed the door silently.
And her sleepy eyes closed happily in the darkness.
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