Jump to content

The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 103

From Wikisource

The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly man, ambushed among the
grasses, raised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their caps.

John O’Connell, Mr Power said, pleased. He never forgets a friend.

Mr O’Connell shook all their hands in silence. Mr Dedalus said :

I am come to pay you another visit.

My dear Simon, the caretaker answered in a low voice. I don’t want
your custom at all.

Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin
Cunningham’s side, puzzling two keys at his back.

Did you hear that one, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the
Coombe?

I did not, Martin Cunningham said.

They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. The
caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watch chain and spoke in a
discreet tone to their vacant smiles.

They tell the story, he said, that two drunks came out here one
foggy evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for
Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After traipsing
about in the fog they found the grave, sure enough. One of the drunks spelt
out the name : Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was blinking up at a statue
of our Saviour the widow had got put up.

The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He
resumed :

And, after blinking up at the sacred figure, Not a bloody bit like the
man, says he. That’s not Mulcahy, says he, whoever done it.

Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleher,
accepting the dockets given him, turning them over and scanning them as he
walked.

That’s all done with a purpose, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes.

I know, Hynes said, I know that.

To cheer a fellow up, Martin Cunningham said. It’s pure good-
heartedness : damn the thing else.

Mr Bloom admired the caretaker’s prosperous bulk. All want to be on
good terms with him. Decent fellow, John O’Connell, real good sort. Keys :
like Keyes’s ad : no fear of anyone getting out, no passout checks. Habeat corpus.
I must see about that ad after the funeral. Did I write Ballsbridge on the envelope
I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? Hope it’s not chucked

Annotations

[edit]