The Secret of Roan Inish

Lord of all spirit and all flesh in whose ever embrace all creatures live...

and whatsoever world or condition they be.

I beseech thee...

pull her hand to his name and dwell into the every need thou knowest.

Thou art life and rest, refreshment, joy and consolation...

and paradise and in companionship of the Saints...

the presence of Christ and the hands that hold, all guide with love.

Where is father?

- Where is father? - He's in the pub.

- It's the little sprout again. - Poor creature.

- As pale as a fish's belly. - And those eyes.

She's only lost in the world and that's all.

And what would you be in a strange land without a mother's touch?

- A drunkard. - You're already that.

Jim, wake up, will you? It's your daughter.

- How you girl? - She's worn out Jim.

Open your eyes, she looks as if she's raised in a tin box.

Fresh air, that's the ticket.

Little sprout like her breathing the poison fumes in the air of this town.

- You have to take her to the country. - It's no work to be had at home.

I'm never going back to the island, that's done.

A lemon squash for you dear.

It isn't a place to be raising a girl around here.

- I do my best. - You try, bless you.

Why not send her off to her grandfather's place then?

You'd like that, wouldn't you love?

You'd like that, living with the old people.

Grandfather.

Fiona.

We were expecting you later.

- Father had to put me on the morning boat. - You've climbed all this way up by yourself?

It's great to see you.

Your grandmother saw you below, she nearly had a fit.

- She knew it's me? - With that head of hair?

At double the distance I'd know you were a Coneelly.

- And your father and his brother the same. - All but for Jamie, he's the only dark one.

You better not mention anything about Jamie in front of grandmother.

She's got the tea ready for you now.

Oh, look at your arms dear, like sticks they are.

- Eat up now. - The sea air she's needing.

Sure, I hear you can't find a proper hen's egg in that city.

But the one's here is nothing compared to those laid on the island.

- Oh, you and that island. - It's true enough though.

That old cow only give half the milk she gave on Roan Inish.

Look, what's done is done and there's no use moaning over it.

Why did we have to leave?

It was the young people dear, like your father and his brothers.

They were restless on the island and then came the war and jobs across the sea.

Now, as they have the taste of the city in their blood.

Ah, city indeed, nothing but noise and dirt and people that's lost their senses.

Couldn't tell the difference between a rip...

tide and a rain drop if you shoved their face in the water.

- But you and grandmother? - Oh, no.

We couldn't start up from naught, living alone on an island.

There isn't a thing out there for us but sad memories.

- Can you see it from here? - If the sky is willing, some can.

Look out there, you see a lighthouse on a long, flat island?

- Think I do. - And down there, to your right.

A great island of dark hills.

And there's a wee green bit of an isle lying between them.

- She sees it Tess. - Ah, you put it into her head.

She sees it.

Only them that's born to the islands can see it from this distance.

They say the east is our future and the west is our past.

The island is to the west of us, Hugh.

That's Roan Inish girl, island of the seals.

And there's more of them now that the people have deserted.

- You've been out there? - Once a week, if the current is right.

- God bless all here. - Eamon, get in and sit for tea.

You remember him Fiona? Your cousin Eamon, uncle Patrick's boy.

- Hello. - So you moved back to the west.

- Are you pleased? - Oh yes, I'm well pleased.

How come you never left with your family?

I tried it for a month, then I ran back here.

I'm not clever enough to live in town, too fast for me.

Which is good a young fella in a curragh as ever I've seen.

Oh now, the love of the sea is a sickness.

And you two will come to grief for it, eat.

She's seen Roan Inish Eamon, on her first look.

- Is that so? - You go there too?

I've not set foot there since the evacuation.

But Grandfather knows the shoals all about it.

And what feeds there and when, you always come back with a full net.

When the rest of them are scared to fish it.

- Why are they scared? - Eamon.

- Tales is all. - Tales of what?

If it clears up this evening, you might see the light again.

- Light? - There's an end of it.

I'll not have nonsense and superstition in my house.

Here, come on, do your duty by those cakes Eamon.

They won't keep, your grandfather is already filled his gullet.

The sea gives and the sea takes away.

This is my father's father's father.

A Coneelly man, he was only a few years older than you are now.

His name was Sean Michael, smart boy, dark hair, bit of the rebel in him.

Though times weren't as hard on the island as they were on the mainland.

It's never easy pulling a living from the sea.

The English were still a force in the country then.

They had the schools...

and it was their language and their ways that you had to learn there or else.

I seek.

Was a new schoolmaster in school one year, stiff as a cat's whiskers he was.

And Sean Michael, wasn't a week in his class before he put the cingulum about his neck.

It was a punishment of those days for speaking Irish within his earshot.

Eject. Eject. Eject. Eject. Eject. Eject.

Sean Michael stuck it for as long as he could, for he had the strength of character.

But the shame was too great and he tore it from his neck...

and he went for the schoolmaster and began to beat on the man, crying out.

Hugh, please. It's a little girl.

- You don't understand, do you girl? - I don't have any Irish.

- More is the pity of it. - Aye.

Now, Sean Michael's father had great hopes for the boy clever as he was...

that he would learn to read the Englishman's language and study his laws...

and grow to be a leader for his people.

There was his son, knuckles bloody, anger in his heart, standing before him.

You'll need to kill me to make me go back he says.

His father sighed then and looked out to the sea beyond them.

You'll have nothing now he said...

the black rocks and the wild waves and the hard sky above you.

And wasn't it his first right trip out with his father...

that a fierce storm from the north blew over them.

Sean Michael, his father, his brothers, his uncles and his cousins.

Four boats in all.

And it took them in its terrible grip and lifted them high and turned them over and...

and slapped them back down in the violent black sea...

with the scraps of their curraghs around them.

His father caught in their net and dragged below without a whisper.

Out as far as they were, in a northern storm...

an experienced fisherman would swallow his drought of water and swim to the bottom.

For to fight the cold sea is only to prolong your suffering.

But Sean Michael was green with it.

And he flailed and he cried out and he beat the water with his legs and arms...

until the sea grew to hate him and refused to swallow him up.

Was a full day later when people gathering muscles on the strand found him.

And was some was even afraid to touch him.

But was women, mostly, soft-hearted as they are.

The boy was more dead than alive, cold as ice to the touch.

And there wasn't a fire in Ireland could bring the blood of life back into him.

This is the time when the country people still lived with their beasts inside.

And the woman as owned the house they brought him to said, here, bind him up to my cow.

And then she brought another alongside and their heat went out through him.

And soon he began to shiver and then he began to shake.

And then he slept like a Christian for hours and hours.

When he started to sweat, the woman cut him loose from her animals.

And they bathed him and wrapped him in blankets warmed at the hearth.

He woke to their faces above him, all women and girls.

Is this heaven then, he said.

No lad, said the woman of the house, it's only Tech Duin.

Now, Tech Duin is the islands where the people thought...

that the souls of all Ireland's dead were held to rest.

And so, Sean Michael believed he had drowned and come to the hereafter.

Was a seal that brought me here, he told them.

I was sinking under, destroyed by the effort of keeping my head above the swell.

And a body, warm body, came under me and lifted me up.

Was a seal, from the feel of its hide.

A great dark seal that bore me along through the storm and I hugging its neck.

That's all I remember until I woke to your faces above me.

And now, with his father and brothers and uncles and cousins all gone...

there's only Sean Michael left to keep the Coneellys alive in these islands.

- And he was saved by a seal? - And two cows.

And a woman that had her wits about her.

- It's a wonderful story. - Some think so.

And some say you should never save a drowning man.

What the sea will take, the sea must have.

That's a lot of foolishness, Hugh.

It's said that some that are saved turn wicked afterward.

What happened to Sean Michael, your great-grandfather?

Jailed by the English, died in prison, a man of fifty.

- Smuggling arms to the Fenians, he was. - Oh, that's enough for now.

Take the child to bed, Hugh; she's exhausted.

Aye.

Sweet dreams dear.

Superstitious old man.

I rake this fire as the pure Christ rakes us all.

Mary at the foot and Brigid at the head.

And may the eight brightest angels in the city of Grace...

preserve this house and all its people until the coming of the day.

The light.

Out into the sun with you now, you'll find him below on the strand.

Just follow the path across.

Grandfather.

Ah, Fiona.

I was just wishing I had someone to lend me a hand.

It'd be a great help to me if you just kept stirring the tar in this bucket here.

I'd love it.

In the olden times, people used cow hide on their curraghs.

Then it was calico and now we make do with canvas.

The tar is what it always was.

- Would you like some tea dear? - Yes please.

She sent down an extra mug for you.

There.

I think I saw the light last night.

Light, is it?

- What light might that be? - The one Eamon spoke of on Roan Inish.

Ah, there's plenty of things could be taken for a light in the dark.

- And no telling how far off the light be. - You just want me to forget about Jamie.

We'll none of us forget him dear.

But life goes on.

I can't even remember when we lost him, I was already off in the ship when it happened.

Was a strange day.