A short story by Hugh Gallagher: The inquisition at the Christian Brothers

Fight! Fight!

The cry went up after school.

Jimmy Doherty, the hard man, versus Cathal McCallion, the new boy.

Manus Boyle dashed forward to see the craic.

He pushed his way through the excited cheering crowd of boys to the front.

In the thick of things was Barney Kelly. He was egging Jimmy on. Jimmy was 12 years old but already he was the tallest boy in the school being almost six feet in height.

“Knock his block off!” he roared.

“Go on Jimmy. Get tore into him! Sure, he's only a College boy!”

He circled around Cathal, his opponent, who was smallish and fat but made no move to attack him. They 'dared' each other to go first, jabbing fingers and shoving.

“D'ye see that scar on Doherty's face, Manus,” said Eugene McIntyre, tipping Manus on the shoulder.

“Aye, how did he get that?” whispered Manus, afraid he would get drawn into the proceedings if overheard.

“I did that!” said Eugene, proudly.

Manus stopped watching and stared at him in disbelief. “You!” he laughed. “Wise up! Sure he'd knock your block off as quick as look at you!”

“I know that,” said Eugene. “But, I was riding a bike at the time. I ran smack dab into him, ye see! He scraped his face on a broken spoke on my wheel. Had to get stitches and everything!”

The two boys eyes then returned to the main attraction.

The new boy, Cathal, threw the first punch, a straight right.

Jimmy shook his head, pretending that he was unhurt but everyone could see the blood trickling from his busted nose.

Cathal weaved and bobbed away from wayward return punches and to everyone's surprise he landed another blow. The boys cheered. This time he scored a direct hit on Jimmy's right ear. He winced in obvious pain.

“Hold me coat!” he shouted, removing his jacket and giving it to Barney Kelly.

“No more messing! I'm goin' to war on this wee squirt!”

His greasy black hair was ruffled and his face was an ashen colour. Cathal too removed his jacket and tie and handed them to Manus Boyle. He was shocked. The fight resumed.

“I bet ye any dough ye like that Doherty fights dirty now, Manus!” said Eugene.

“Wise up! Sure, he has no call to,” said Manus. “He's built like a tank!”

He studied the jacket and tie he was holding and then tossed them over his left shoulder unto the ground. “I'm no clothes hanger, neither!” he declared.

Eugene's prediction came true.

Things took a nasty turn.

Jimmy swung his boot and his toe-cap connected with Cathal's shin-bone.

He squealed and fell forward clutching his right leg with both hands. His head hit the ground with a thud. The crowd gasped and then booed.

Slowly Cathal struggled to his feet but could barely stand. The contest was over.

“Told ye so, Manus,” said Eugene. “He's as dirty as they come!”

“Good on ye Jimmy!” cried Barney. “Still the champ!”

The crowd began to drift off home.

Two friends supported Cathal as he hobbled away.

Doherty was being treated as a hero with cronies slapping his back and shaking his hand.

He strutted down the road as if he'd just been crowned World Champion.

“Right now boys, put away those books for a minute or two,” said Brother McGinty. “I have an important decision to make!”

All the boys began fidgeting and staring at one another wondering what was to come next. The odds were that it would be nothing good.

“Sit up straight!” ordered the Christian Brother.

Manus Boyle feared the worst.

Usually, when this kind of event happened at the C.B.S. Tech it was a prelude to collective punishment or the weeding out of certain individuals or groups for some 'crime'.

Brother McGinty said nothing but began to walk slowly up and down the aisles stopping every now and then in front of a boy and staring at him.

When he came to Manus, he began to consider if it was possible that he would become a victim.

His thoughts wandered back to the week-end before. Yep, he had stayed away from Saturday morning school to go to the Pictures but he was certain he hadn't spotted any Brothers outside. So how could he know, he thought. It can't be helped now, anyhow! If it's me he's after I'll just have to brazen it out, that's all I can do.

Brother McGinty was a great believer in telling the truth.

“I know when a boy's telling me lies!” he would often say. “It's the eyes, you see! Liars can't look me straight in the eyes!”

Manus felt the sweat gather at the back of his neck.

The Brother produced a long thin leather strap from the cloth sash he wore around his stomach and placed it on the desk.

His rounded pink face came closer to Manus but he didn't flinch. The teacher resumed his silent inquisition and went on to stand in front of Harry Beattie's desk next. Harry was the nervous type. Ten seconds of that stare and he cracked.

“Okay! Alright Brother,” he blurted out. “I'm sorry!”

“Sorry! Sorry for what, young Harry!” said Brother McGinty. “Come on. Do tell. We're all dying to know!”

“I... I took thruppence from me ma's purse this morning,” he sobbed.

All the boys began laughing but the Brother ensured that it didn't last long.

“Silence!” he bellowed. “So. You boys think that's funny. You boy, Beattie – stand you up there at the blackboard. I'll fix you in just one minute!”

Harry shuffled forward. He was a pathetic sight, crying and sniffling. The inquisition resumed. Three desks later and that silent stare had claimed a second victim. This time it was Gerry Coyle who buckled.

“He made me do it, Brother,” he shouted.

“What? Do what? Who made you do what?”

“Manus Boyle did, Brother! He made me go with him to the ABC Minors last Saturday morning!”

“Really. That's interesting. To the Pictures, eh! Screwed your arm up your back, did he?” said Brother McGinty.

“You gave me a note from your mother saying you were sick, at death's door! Get up there with Beattie... wretched boy! You'd better stop that sniffling, too!”

He then went and grabbed hold of some hairs above Manus Boyle's left ear and dragged him out to join the others.

Squealer, thought Manus, glaring at Gerry.

He was resigned to his fate and watched with interest as the Brother warmed to his task.

“Right, lads. Let us continue where we left off,” he announced. “I'm beginning to enjoy this!”

Up and down the aisles he tramped once more, a wicked smile planted permanently on his face. The hard man, Jimmy Doherty was next and last to crack up, to everyone's surprise. In doing so he 'named' half a dozen others.

“It was him that started the fight, Brother!” he blubbered, pointing at Cathal McCallion. “He busted my nose!”

“Fight! What fight is this?” cried Brother McGinty. “Didn't I warn you boys about this!”

“But McCallion started it!” cried Jimmy.

“I don't care who started it. I am going to punish anybody caught fighting and anybody watching a fight. You McCallion... Get up there with the rest. I'm surprised at you!”

Cathal said nothing.

Manus Boyle admired the way he stepped forward in a dignified manner. He was still limping noticeably.

“Now – Doherty,” said the Christian Brother. “Who else was at this fight. Come on, tell me, or it'll be all the worse for you, and them, when I find out!”

Several boys shifted in their seats and looked away from Jimmy's gaze.

Between bouts of crying he named ten in all. There was Billy Quigley, his brother Gerry, Martin McLaughlin, Joseph Mahon, Johnny McCloskey, Peter Lynch, Paddy McNulty, Edmund Harkin, Victor McDaid and Frankie McMenamin.

They all left their seats as the accusing finger was pointed in their direction.

Jimmy couldn't look at them as he joined them at the blackboard. Paddy McNulty spoke for the entire gathering.

“I'll get ye, young fella!” he shouted. “Ya sneak ye!”

Brother Burns was summoned to help Brother McGinty administer the slaps.

Each of the fifteen boys received six slaps apiece with the strap. Some cried but most took it well. When it was all over they all sat, sullen faced.

“Now, get your books out,” ordered Brother McGinty. “Page 73. Verbs and their uses.”

Five minutes later when everything had settled down he called Manus Boyle to his desk. Aw, naw! What now? he thought. He imagined he was in for another round of slapping.

“You like the Pictures then, Manus?” asked the Brother.

“Aye... I mean, yes, Brother!” stammered Manus.

“Well, that's all I wanted to ask you when I came in this morning,” he said. “I was looking at all of you to see which one to select! I want you to help me with the projector and lights this Saturday night up at the old Primary school. The film is 'The Greatest Show on Earth'. Will you help?”

“Yes!” said Manus. “I'll be there!”

He returned to his seat wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.