Улисс
Chapter 1
Idon’twanttoseemycountryfallintothehandsofGermanjewseither.That’sournationalproblem,I’mafraid,justnow.
Twomenstoodatthevergeofthecliff,watching:businessman,boatman.
—She’smakingforBullockharbour.
Theboatmannoddedtowardsthenorthofthebaywithsomedisdain.
—There’sfivefathomsoutthere,hesaid.It’llbesweptupthatwaywhenthetidecomesinaboutone.It’sninedaystoday.
Themanthatwasdrowned.Asailveeringabouttheblankbaywaitingforaswollenbundletobobup,rollovertothesunapuffyface,saltwhite.HereIam.
Theyfollowedthewindingpathdowntothecreek.BuckMulliganstoodonastone,inshirtsleeves,hisunclippedtieripplingoverhisshoulder.Ayoungmanclingingtoaspurofrocknearhim,movedslowlyfrogwisehisgreenlegsinthedeepjellyofthewater.
—Isthebrotherwithyou,Malachi?
—DowninWestmeath.WiththeBannons.
—Stillthere?IgotacardfromBannon.Sayshefoundasweetyoungthingdownthere.Photogirlhecallsher.
—Snapshot,eh?Briefexposure.
BuckMulligansatdowntounlacehisboots.Anelderlymanshotupnearthespurofrockablowingredface.Hescrambledupbythestones,waterglisteningonhispateandonitsgarlandofgreyhair,waterrillingoverhischestandpaunchandspillingjetsoutofhisblacksaggingloincloth.
BuckMulliganmadewayforhimtoscramblepastand,glancingatHainesandStephen,crossedhimselfpiouslywithhisthumbnailatbrowandlipsandbreastbone.
—Seymour’sbackintown,theyoungmansaid,graspingagainhisspurofrock.
