‘But you must give me a receipt.’
The merchant bowed, wrote on a piece of paper, sealed it, received the coins, cut the piece of string, and formally passed the children over with the customary blessing and a second bow. Stephen returned the civility, told the children that he had bought them, and bade each take a hand. This they did without a word, and he led them across the market to the blue dome.
‘Amos,’ he said, ‘do you think that the people of this house would have something suitable for children? I have just bought these two.’
‘Have they teeth?’
‘Kevin and Mona, have you teeth?’
They nodded very gravely, and showed them: fine healthy teeth, with the gaps usual at their age.
‘Then I shall call for yoghurt, sugared, and soft bread. Pray what was the language in which you spoke to them?’
‘It was Irish, the language spoken by many if not by most of the people in Ireland.’
Jacob waved his hand, gave his order, and asked, ‘Do these children speak no English?’
‘I will ask them when there is a little food in their bellies. They might weep if they were questioned before.’
How it vanished, the yoghurt and the great soft flap of bread: within minutes the children looked far more nearly human. And on being asked, after a second helping, Mona said that although she did not know much, she could say most of a Hail Mary. Kevin only hung his head.
‘Do you think that kind woman by the Gate of Woe would wash these children, clothe them in modest decency, and even brush their hair?’
‘Fatima? I am sure of it. She might find them shoes, too.’
‘I doubt they have ever worn shoes.’ He asked them and they both shook their heads. ‘Not even for Mass?’ Renewed shaking, and a hint of tears. ‘I know what might answer very well,’ said Stephen. ‘Those shoes we call espardenyas, made of sailcloth with soft cord soles and ribbons to attach them. Are they to be had, do you think? I should not like to carry them to the consulate barefoot.’
‘Certainly they are to be had. At the southern corner of this very square they’re to be had.’
In these shoes (red for the one, blue for the other) they hobbled with ludicrous pride to Amos Jacob’s dubious lair: by the time they reached it they were walking quite easily and their starved little faces were more nearly human, even ready to smile. Fatima, a capable, intelligent woman, looked at them with more sorrow than disapproval: after a longish pause she brought them back washed, clothed, brushed, fed yet again and almost unrecognizable, but perfectly willing to be friendly.
‘They are brisker by far,’ said Stephen ‘- do you notice that the sound of the wind is less? - but they will never walk up all those infernal steps. Would there be carriages to be had, do you suppose?’
‘Certainly there are carriages to be had, and I will send Achmet for one, if you wish.’
‘Pray be so kind.’
‘And certainly I have noticed a lessening in the perpetual roar: it clenched one’s innermost man, diaphragm, solar plexus, pericardium into a hard knot that is now perceptibly looser. If we take a carriage, we shall have to go a great way round to reach the consulate, and for two thirds of the journey we shall be gazing over the sea...’
Sea there was, a vast extent of white-flecked sea with its horizon growing more and more distant as they rose: but the whole of it was still empty even by the time they reached the consulate. Stephen left the wondering children with Jacob under the palms and walked in: he was told that Sir Peter was at a consular meeting, but smiling at the news he sent his name up to Lady Clifford.
‘Oh Dr Maturin,’ she cried, ‘I am so sorry Sir Peter is not at home: he is at one of those odious conferences that go on and on for ever, and all to no purpose.’
‘I grieve for him, upon my word,’ said Stephen. ‘But my errand is rather to you than to him. I bought a couple of children this morning in the slave-market, a boy and a girl, twins, of I suppose six or seven. Although they do not speak a word of English beyond the Hail Mary they are literally distressed British subjects. They were picked up by an Algerine corsair that had been raiding the Munster coast - picked up in a drifting boat, brought here and sold. May I beg you to shelter them for two or three days, while I make arrangements to send them home?’
