Galore - Michael Crummey [146]
—If you have something in particular you wanted.
—I’m not going to live forever, is what I mean. And you’re the closest thing to blood I have in this country.
—Frig off out of it, Levi.
—I’m willing to sign over the portion of Sellers & Co. by rights is yours.
Tryphie straightened as much as his humpback allowed. —Out of the goodness of your heart, is it?
Levi laughed and shook his head. —We need something on your darling Mr. Coaker.
—We?
—Myself and others like me. Men with similar interests.
—Men of your interests, Tryphie said, are too goddamned stunned to see there’s none but Mr. Coaker could put a stop to this now.
A flicker ran under the mask of Levi’s face, something that made him look nearly human a moment. —I imagine you’re right, he said and then pressed ahead. —We’re after an affidavit that would hold up in court. It won’t even have to be made public, just something to set in front of the man, make him listen to reason.
—An affidavit saying what exactly?
—The man’s a sodomite, Tryphie. Everyone knows that.
Tryphie turned to the desk and leaned over it.
—One third of what I own, Levi said. —That’s near enough to look after that daughter of yours, and maybe keep your wife from killing you in your sleep some night.
Tryphie turned to whip a paperweight across the room but Levi was already through the door.
He went by Selina’s House on his way home that evening, found Hannah alone in the kitchen. They sat at the table with tea and talked briefly about the war and whether Esther was any better or worse. —I had a visit from Levi Sellers today, he told her finally.
She said, He’s turning into a social creature, that one.
Tryphie nodded, unsurprised. —What did he offer you, Hannah?
—A knife, she said and she smiled for just a moment, like the flame of a match lit and shaken out. —Why would he come to us, Tryphie?
—Only blood can make something like this stick. Otherwise it’s just rumor. Are you going to tell Abel?
—Tell him what?
—About his father, maid. Him and Coaker.
A red spall rose on Hannah’s neck and face. —I got no truck with gossip, she said.
—The boy’s bound to hear of it sooner or later, he said.
—Not from me, he won’t, Hannah said.
Eli didn’t come back to the shore until after Christmas, traveling with Coaker on a winter tour to report on the progress at Port Union and to make a plea for volunteers to the Newfoundland Regiment. There was no sign of an end to the war. The Russians signed an armistice with Germany in November and tens of thousands of German troops were being transported to the Western Front. The regiment suffered heavy losses before Christmas and spent the holiday season licking their wounds in Fressen, waiting for new recruits to join them. Coaker addressed a public meeting in the F.P.U. Hall, the crowd respectful but unenthusiastic, like all the union crowds he’d spoken to. They had barely enough hands to crew the boats as it was and no one outside St. John’s showed any appetite for the war.
Coaker worked the crowd afterwards, making a more personal pitch for volunteers. Eli stood with Abel and Dr. Newman, the three of them watching Coaker shake hands and plead and cajole.
—He seems worked up, Newman said.
—We might have to pull the regiment off the front lines if we don’t shore it up, Eli said.
—It hardly seems the union’s job to keep the regiment in soldiers.
—Be hard to hold off conscription if we don’t meet the need with willing bodies.
The doctor pursed his lips. —And I suppose it does you no service in the House if the union looks like a crowd of shirkers.
—Perception is half the game, Eli said.
Coaker came around to them finally and he shook hands with the doctor and the youngster beside him.
—Mr. Coaker, Abel said.
—Uncle Will, Coaker corrected him. —You’re looking well, Abel.
—He’s in the blush of health, Newman said. —A miracle recovery, Mr. Coaker. I’ve never seen the like.
Coaker nodded and stared at him longer than Abel would have liked. He looked away, waiting for the appraisal to end. Newman excused