Читать книгу Ireland in Travail онлайн

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The policeman suddenly lost all joy in the day; but he got the boat. He gave it over to the officers, who clambered in.

Some girls giggled.

The senior of the officers reached out his hand and carefully drew the oil drum towards him. He fell upon the notice and destroyed it, and captured the Sinn Fein flag.

“Empty!” he said, as he cleared the drum from its moorings and they lifted it into the boat.

“It’ll be full next time,” I couldn’t help saying.

Everybody looked at me with one accord as if I had done it. I started to depart, and the good example set the soldiers scrambling into the lorry, the policemen stalking off on their beat, and the crowd drifting on its way.

Such adventures as this might be met with at any street corner.

Himself speaks.

Everywhere there were signs of the times. All day long the military lorries rumbled about the city—great brutal concerns crowded with armed soldiers in tin hats, so that they looked like mouths bristling with teeth. And faster than they rolled the armoured cars like little forts on wheels. And faster still and more furious, lighter lorries choked with Auxiliary police and Black-and-Tans.