But the length of the way, the uncertainty of a place to stop at
had some weight, and I found myself unable to decide. To clear up my
brain I asked for a bit of fish for dinner, but such a thing could not
be obtained at Newport. The fish caught there are exported. They might
get a fish by going down to the boat for it, and paying dearer for it
than the Dublin price. I asked for fish at Westport with the same
result. If you mention salmon they will say, "Oh, yes," and if not
stopped, rush off and buy a can of American salmon for you. I got
something to eat - not fish, and not very eatable - and wrote a little
while, with the same stupid sensation bothering me that I had felt
during my interview with Mr. Smithwick, and decided to put off all
decision and go to bed, which I did.
In the morning, having found that Newport was the nearest point by which
to reach Achill Island, I determined to go there, and if I thought I
could endure the journey to diverge at Mulrany and drive to Ballycroy on
my return from Achill Island.
XXXIX.
BY THE SHORE OF CLEW BAY - ACROSS ACHILL ISLAND - A LONELY LOVELY
RETREAT.
The drive from Newport, Mayo, to Mulrany was very pleasant. The roads
winds along Clew Bay, that bay of many islands, for quite a distance.
Clew Bay was resting, calm as a mirror, blue and bright, not a lap of
the wave washed up on the shore of Green island or Rocky Point the day
we drove past. No fisher's boat divided the water with hopeful keel. The
intense solitude of bays and inlets as well as the loughs looks like
enchantment. It reminds one of the drowsy do-nothingness of "Thompson's
Castle of Indolence," only here the indolence is not the indolence of
luxurious ease but of hunger and rags. If the knight of arts and
industry will ever destroy monopoly, and these silent waters will be
alive with enterprise:
"When many fishing barks put out to fish along the coast."
there will be a happy change in the comfortless cabins that dot the
shores of Clew Bay.
The islands of Clew Bay, being treeless and green, have a new look, as
if they had just heaved up their backs above the waters and were waiting
for the fiat that shall pronounce them good. I looked with longing eyes
in the direction of Clare Island, that has one side to the bay and one
side to the broad Atlantic which lies between me and home.
