The
boat was never there long enough to get into or be the cause of any
trouble, he thought. Besides, some of his friends felt the same way
he did and they were English, not even part Irish.
The route rarely varied, and the weather, it seemed, hardly ever mattered:
sunshine, wind, or rain. Calm seas, heavy seas, or anything in between,
the vessel sailed. From England to Ireland, and a week or so later
they threw the lines and sailed for home. Training students kept everyone
busy: diving, surfacing, starting and stopping the engines, along
with constant emergency drills, some real, most not.
Each time the submarine returned to England, Sean now made his way
to the pub. Rafferty’s cheerfulness and understanding manner
were magnetic; the submariner spent hours engaged in conversation
with him. Not only did Sean enjoy the change of pace, Rafferty’s
ear was a great listening post.
One day, Rafferty did his “hands on the bar” routine.
He smiled briefly, looked into Sean’s eyes, and said, “I
consider myself lucky holding this job, Sean, even though it does
mean being employed by the British government. But I can leave it
behind if I choose. Of course it’s much different for you, seeing
as how you belong to Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.” He gave
a brief smile and then threw his hands up, ostentatiously in a gesture
of frustration. “What happened, what possessed you, lad? Were
you not taught history? Have you forgotten the terrible suffering
the English placed on the Irish people, that we’ve had to endure?”
Sean looked at him but this time held his tongue. Hardly, he thought,
recalling the seemingly endless compelling stories he’d heard
as a child and the bitterness the elders clung to regarding England’s
role in Irish history.
“You need to spend time among your own people, Sean. Why don’t
you come over to the house for a bit, lad? We can have supper and
perhaps a few pints to lighten the load, as it were.”
“Well, thank you, Mick” he replied. “I think that
would be nice.”
Rafferty’s home became a safe harbor. Sean liked the men he
served with, but it hadn’t taken very long aboard the Ares to
see that the vessel wasn’t designed with his or anyone else’s
personal comfort in mind. He needed to get away from the submarine’s
crowded confines occasionally and Rafferty’s invitation was
both timely and welcome.
However, the invisible strings Rafferty would soon attach to his generosity
had yet to begin weaving their cloak of deception.