The Gambling Man

Mr Nickle had also been a strong advocate for better sewerage, especially since the outbreak of cholera in ’66, and the smallpox outbreak in 1870. He had helped, too, to bring about the new Scavenging Department under the Borough Engineer. Before this the removal of the filth of the town had been left to contractors.

Oh, Mr Nickle was a good man, Rory wasn’t saying a thing against him, but Mr Nickle had a failing which was looked at askance by the temperance societies and the respectable members of the community.

And although Rory himself thought none the less of Mr Nickle, for if the crowned heads could gamble . . . and it was well known that Bertie, the Prince of Wales, was a lad at the game, why not Mr Nickle, and why not Rory Connor, or any working man for that matter? But it was the same injustice here, one law for the rich, another for the poor. Yet these sentiments did not deter him from harassing, or even threatening little Joe, nor did little Joe see any injustice in Mr Connor’s treatment of him. He had a rough-hewn philosophy: there were gents of all grades, there were the high gents, middle gents, and the lower gents. Mr Connor was of the lower gents, but his money was as good as anybody else’s and often he was more generous than the middle gents. The real toffs were open handed, and the waterfront gamblers were free with their money when they had it, but the middle gents were mean, and although Mr Nickle was prominent in the town and lived in one of the best ends he was, to little Joe, a middle gent, in the upper bracket of that section maybe, but still a middle gent. But he was a man who had power, as had those who worked for him, and they could be nasty at times.

Little Joe was worried for Mr Connor, but apparently Mr Connor wasn’t worried for himself. In a way Joe admired a fellow like Mr Connor; he admired his pluck because it was something he hadn’t much of himself.

So it was that little Joe spoke to Mr Nickle’s man. Mr Nickle’s man was a kind of valet-cum- butler-cum-doorman, and his wife was Mr Nickle’s housekeeper, and his two daughters were Mr Nickle’s parlour-maid and housemaid respectively. Altogether it was another close-knit family. There was no Mrs Nickle, she had died some years previously.

Little Joe did not lie about Mr Connor’s position, that is not exactly. What he said was, he was a gent in the property business. Also, that he played a good hand and was very discreet. He had known him for some years and had set him on in schools along the waterfront, and he had added that, as he understood that two of Mr Nickle’s friends had passed away recently, he had stressed the word friends, he wondered if Mr Nickle was looking for a little new blood. One thing he told Mr Nickle’s man he could assure his master of, and that was Mr Connor was no sponger.

Mr Nickle’s man said he would see what could be done. What he meant was he would look into Mr Connor’s mode of business. He did.

When next little Joe met Rory all he could say was, ‘I’ve got you set-in for a game in a place in Ocean Road, just near the Workhouse.’

‘Do you think you’ll make it the night, Rory?’ Jimmy asked under his breath as he stood near the door watching Rory pull on his overcoat.

‘I’ll have a damned good try, I can’t say better. It’s a new place; I’ll have to see how the land lies, won’t I?’

‘You’ll find yourself lying under the land if you’re not careful.’

Rory turned his dark gaze on to Lizzie where she sat at one side of a long mat frame jabbing a steel progger into the stretched hessian. He watched her thrust in a clipping of rag, pull it tightly down from underneath with her left hand, then jab the progger in again before he said, ‘You’d put the kibosh on God, you would.’

Ruth looked up from where she was sitting at the other side of the frame. In the lamplight her face appeared delicate and sad, and she shook her head at him, it was a gentle movement, before she said, ‘Just take care of yourself that’s all.’

‘I’ve always had to, haven’t I?’

‘Aw, there speaks the big fellow who brought himself up. Suckled yourself from your own breast you did.’

Rory now grabbed his hard hat which Jimmy was holding towards him, then wrenching open the door, he went out.

It was a fine night. The air was sharp, the black sky was high and star-filled. He could even make out the gate because of their brightness, and also with the help of the light from the Learys’ window. They never drew their blinds, the Learys.

He picked his way carefully down the narrow lane so that he shouldn’t splash his boots. He had also taken the precaution of bringing a piece of rag with him in order to wipe them before he should enter this new place because the houses in King Street and down Ocean Road were mostly decent places.