Bird by Rita Murphy Page A

commented, “is like something I’ve seen before. It is strong in weave yet made so fine. Tough enough to endure the ravages of the wind, but light enough to ride upon it.” I explained that the captain must have made his own paper with the screens in the attic, for the kites and all his maps were of the same grade and texture.
    When we stopped for lunch, Farley suggested we store the kites inside a small enclosure that backed up to the cliffs. To call it a cave would have been extravagant, but there was enough of an opening that we could wedge the kites and the wing inside, where the wind could not find them.
    Farley had brought a large loaf of bread, which was his ration for the week, and a few sardines wrapped in a plain cloth. I’d brought a canister of dried currants from the pantry. Wysteria saved currants for special occasions, which never came, as she did not celebrate any, not even Christmas. She doled them out in minute amounts to be sanctimoniously consumed on the first of May, when the captains made their spring payments, and late in the summer, once all the fleet owners had signed her on again for the coming year. When she returned to the Manor, she would undoubtedly search for them, and I would have to find a reason for their absence, for I planned that Farley and I would feast on them until the jar was empty and take whatever punishment was due me at a later date.
    “Are you sure you can spare these?” Farley asked.
    “Yes. It’s a special occasion. That’s what they’re for.” He smiled and poured out a handful. In a playful and distinctly boyish manner, he lay back, popping the currants into the air and catching them in his mouth.
    “What will you do when you grow up?” I inquired.
    Farley laughed. “Why, miss, I’m already grown up enough to work. But I don’t want to be at sea forever, that’s for certain.”
    “I thought you liked sailing?”
    “I like the boats, miss. I like the clean, fresh smell of the open water. But I don’t like to pull up more fish than I need, or to obey the orders of another man.”
    “What will you do, then?”
    “Maybe I’ll build kites and sell them to people all over the world.”
    “Will you go back to Ireland to build them?”
    He shook his head firmly. “I’ll never go back. Me family is all but gone now, and the prospects of work are slim.”
    “Will you stay here?”
    “I’ll stay only as long as there’s work.” He opened his eyes wide and sat up. “I’m afraid to say, miss,” he said, looking suddenly sad, “that on our last trip we also purchased a new canal boat. It’s in harbor in Burlington, still. We’ll be taking it through the locks to the Hudson.” He paused and gazed down at his hands. “Leaving in a few days’ time. There’s no saying when I’ll be back.” I was stunned at his words, and could not find my way to a proper reply. Farley’s visits were unpredictable, but I had begun to rely on him. He was the one person I really knew. The only one who knew me.
    “I’m sorry, miss. I am, truly. I would have liked to stay.” We sat for a long time before he spoke again.
    “And what about yourself, miss? What do you wish for? To be a grand lady with a palace and land to spare?”
    “Maybe.” I couldn’t imagine myself staying at the Manor without the prospect of Farley’s visits.
    “Cheer up, miss. Let’s enjoy the time we have. Let’s see a smile on your face.” But I could not muster a smile.
    “Come, now. What do you see for yourself ?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’d just like to go outside one day and not fear the wind.”
    He smiled. “Then today is your day.” He stood and picked up the old ball of twine the Hounds had dragged with them and abandoned. Then he took off his leather belt and folded the waist of his pants over twice to keep them up. He unwound the twine, measuring it against the length of his forearm. When he had the right length, he took out his pocket knife and cut