If it was degrading to the Bishop's place as father of the Church that
his son should consort with all the "ragabash" of the island, the scum
of the land, and the dirtiest froth of the sea, the Bishop was made to
know the full bitterness of that degradation. He would listen with head
held down, and when the Deemster, passing from remonstrance to reproach,
would call upon him to set his own house in order before he ever
ascended the pulpit again, the Bishop would lift his great heavy eyes
with an agonizing look of appeal, and answer in a voice like a sob,
"Have patience, Thorkell--have patience with the lad; he is my son, my
only son."
It chanced that toward the end of the herring season an old man of
eighty, one William Callow, died, and he was the captain of the parish
of Michael. The captaincy was a semi-civil, semi-military office, and it
included the functions of parish head-constable. Callow had been a a man
of extreme probity, and his walk in life had been without a slip.
"The ould man's left no living craythur to fill his shoes," the people
said when they buried him, but when the name of the old man's successor
came down from Castletown, who should be the new captain but Daniel
Mylrea? The people were amazed, the Deemster laughed in his throat, and
Dan himself looked appalled.
Hardly a month after this event, the relations of Dan and the Deemster,
and Dan and the Bishop, reached a climax.
For months past the Bishop had been hatching a scheme for the
sub-division of his episcopal glebe, the large extent of which had long
been a burden on the dwindling energies of his advancing age; and he had
determined that, since his son was not to be a minister of the Church,
he should be its tenant, and farm its lands. So he cut off from the
demesne a farm of eighty acres of fine Curragh land, well drained and
tilled. This would be a stay and a solid source of livelihood to Dan
when the herring fishing had ceased to be a pastime. There was no
farmhouse on the eighty acres, but barns and stables were to be erected,
and Dan was to share with Ewan the old Ballamona as a home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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