Jack and the Devil's Purse (13 page)

So one day his mother called him, ‘Jack, are you busy?’

‘Well no, Mother, I’m no busy. I’ve cut the wee puckle hay and I’ve stacked it up, it’s no much.’

‘Would you like to go into the village and get something for me?’

‘Of course, Mother, I always go, you know I always go.’

So she gave him a few shillings to walk into the village. And he went into the store and bought these few groceries for his mother. He came walking across the little street, and lo and behold he was stopped by an old friend of his mother’s who had never seen her for many years. But the friend knew him.

‘Oh, Jack,’ he said, ‘you’re finally grown up to a big, handsome young man.’

Jack said, ‘Do I know you, sir?’

‘Och laddie,’ he said, ‘ye ken ye know me: I’m a friend o’ yer mother’s.’

‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘I’ve never remembered much about you.’

‘Oh, but your mother does! Tell her old Dougald was askin for her when ye go back. I was your mother’s lover, you know.’

‘Oh well, that’s nothin to do with me.’

‘Well, tell your mother I’ll come out and see her first chance I get,’ he said. ‘I’ve been away travelling. But now I’m back and I’m settled here in the village. I’ll prob’ly come out and see her sometime.’

‘Okay,’ says Jack, ‘I’ll have to hurry.

‘Oh no, laddie, ye’re no goin awa like that! Come in wi me!’

‘Where?’

He says, ‘Into the inn.’

Jack says, ‘The inn? Sir, I don’t—’

‘Dinna call me sir,’ he said, ‘call me Dougald!’

‘Sir, I never was in an inn in my life.’

‘Oh laddie, you mean to tell me you’ve never had a drink?’

‘No me, Dougald, I’ve never had a drink.’

‘Well, you’re gettin one now! Come wi me.’

Into the little inn. Jack had his mother’s little groceries. He placed them beside the bar.

‘Two glasses of whisky!’ Full glasses of whisky . . . ‘Right,’ said old Dougald, who’d had a few glasses before that, ‘drink it up, laddie! It’s good for ye. And I’m comin to see yer mother, mind and tell her!’

Jack drank the glass o’ whisky for the first time in his life. Oh, he choked and coughed a little bit and it felt strange to him. He had never had a drink before in his life. But after a few seconds when the warm glow began to pass across his chest and his head began to get a little dizzy, Jack felt good!

And old Dougald said, ‘Did you like that?’

Jack said, ‘Of course, it was good.’

‘Have another one!’ So he filled another glass for Jack and Jack had two full glasses of whisky for the first time in his life.

He said, ‘Well now,’ he was feeling a wee bit tipsy; ‘I think I’d better go home wi my mother’s groceries!’

‘Okay, laddie, mind my message now! Tell yer mother I’ll come out to see her because she’s an old girlfriend o’ mine!’ Old Dougald was well on with drink.

Jack picked up his little bag and he walked back . . . two steps forward, three steps back. But he made his way to his mother.

When he walked in his mother was pleased to see him. She said, ‘Your supper’s on the table.’

‘I’m no wantin any supper, Mother.’

She said, ‘Jack, have you been drinkin? You know, Jack, drink ruined yer father. It was drink that killed yer father.’

‘Oh, Mother, I had the best fun o’ my life. In fact I met an old boyfriend o’ yours!’

And she touched her hair and pulled her apron down, you know. She smoothed her apron. She said, ‘What did you say, laddie?’

‘Mother, I met an old boyfriend o’ yours!’

And she tidied her hair, pulled down her apron and said, ‘What did you say?’

‘I met an old boyfriend o’ yours and he’s comin to see ye!’

‘A . . . my boyfriend? I have nae boyfriends, laddie.’

‘Aye, Mother, you’ve had a boyfriend – before you met my father.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Dougald.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘young Dougald, young Dougald! God, laddie, I’ve never seen him for years.’

‘Well, Mother, he’s comin to see you onyway.’

She was pleased about this. She’d forgot about Jack’s drinking. So they sat and they talked and they discussed things. And things went on as usual.

But Jack had the taste of drink. Now every time he went to the village he would say: ‘Mother, could I borrow a shilling fae ye,’ or two shillings or three shillings, every time for the sake o’ getting a drink. Till there was no money left, there was no money coming into the croft by his work or his mother had nothing to spare. She gave him what she could afford to buy the messages and that was all.

‘Mother,’ he said, ‘gie us a shilling or something!’

‘No, son, I havena got it.’

‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘I’ll walk to the village.’

So on the road to the village there was a crossroads: one road went to the left, one road went to the right. Jack was coming walking down.

He said, ‘God upon my soul, bless my body in Hell, and Devil . . .’ he’s cursing to himself. ‘What would I give for a shilling! My mother has nae money. She’s gien me everything she had. God, I could do with a drink. I could do, I could walk in an’ buy myself a glass o’ whisky and really enjoy it. God Almighty, what’s wrong with me?’

No answer.

He said, ‘The Devil o’ Hell – will ye listen to me? I’d give my soul tonight to the Devil o’ Hell if he would only give me a shilling for a drink!’

But lo and behold Jack walked on and there at the crossroads stood a tall, dark man. Jack was about to pass him by when, ‘Aye, Jack,’ he said, ‘you’re makin your way to the village.’

Jack looked up. He said, ‘Sir, do you know me?’

‘Ah, Jack, I ken you all right. You and your mother are up in that croft there.’

But Jack said, ‘I’ve never met you, sir.’

‘No, Jack,’ said the man, ‘you’ve never met me. But I heard you muttering to yourself as you were comin down the road. And the things you were sayin I was interested in.’

Jack said, ‘What do you think I was sayin?’

‘Oh, ye talked about your God . . . and you mentioned my name.’

‘
Your
name?’

‘Of course, you mentioned my name, Jack – I’m the Devil.’

‘You’re the Devil?’ says Jack.

‘I am the Devil, Jack,’ he said. ‘And you said you would gie me your soul for a shilling for a drink.’

Jack said, ‘Look, let you be the Devil of Hell or the Devil of Nowhere, I would give my soul to the Devil, the
real
Devil tonight!’

He says, ‘Jack, I am
the real Devil!
’

‘Ah,’ Jack says, ‘I dinna believe ye.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘can you try me?’

Jack said, ‘What do I try ye for? What hae ye got to gie me? Hae you got a shilling for me?’

The Devil says, ‘I’ll go one better.’ Puts his hand under his cloak and he brings out a small leather purse. ‘Jack, look, you said you would sell your soul to the Devil for a shilling for a drink.’

Jack says, ‘Gladly I would.’

‘Well,’ the Devil says, ‘look . . . I’ve got a purse here and in that purse is a shilling. But I’ll go one better – every time you take a shilling out, another one’ll take its place – and you can drink to your heart’s content. You’ll never need to worry again. But on one condition.’

‘And what’s your condition?’ says Jack.

He said, ‘You said you would give me your soul!’

Jack said, ‘If you’re the Devil you can have my soul – it’s no good to me. A drink I need!’

‘Take my purse,’ said the Devil, ‘and spend to your heart’s content, and I’ll come for you in a year and a day.’

‘Done,’ says Jack, ‘show me your purse!’

The Devil gave Jack the little purse. And he opened it up. A silver shilling lay in the purse.

‘Right,’ says Jack, ‘it’s a deal!’

The Devil was gone, he vanished.

Jack walked to the village, spent his mother’s two-three shillings to buy the things his mother needed. And he said: ‘I’ve got a shilling in my purse.’

He walked across to the local inn. Took the shilling out, put it on the bar and called for a glass of whisky. Got his glass of whisky, drank it up. Called for another one and drank it up. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘Devil, if you’re telling the truth . . .’ And he opened the purse. Lo and behold, there was another shilling! He spent another one and another one took its place. Jack got really drunk. He walked home to his mother, purse in his hip pocket.

‘Now at last,’ he said, ‘I can drink to my heart’s content.’ He gave his mother her messages.

‘Where did you get the money to drink, Jack?’ she says. ‘You’ve been drinkin.’

‘Och, I met a couple o’ friends, Mother.’ (He never told her.)

But anyhow, Jack made every excuse he could get to go to the village. And every time he went he got drunk, as usual. Day out and day in. Oh, he bought things for his mother forbyes.

But one night after three months had passed she said, ‘Jack, you’ve been drinkin a terrible lot. Where are you gettin all this money?’

‘Ach, Mother, it’s only friends I meet.’ But she was pleased with that.

But after six months, after Jack had been drinking for another three months, she said, ‘Jack, look, you’ll have to tell me the truth: where is this money coming from? You’ve been drunk now for weeks on end. Not that I’m complainin . . . drink killed your father. It’ll prob’ly kill you too. You’re a young man and it’s none o’ my business.’

‘Ach, Mother, it’s only money I’ve been gettin from my friends. They owed it to me.’

Another three months passed and nine months had passed. Jack was still drinking to his heart’s content. One night he came home very drunk.

She says, ‘Jack, do you know what you’re doin? That’s nine month you’ve been drinkin every week. Laddie, ye ken you’re workin with the Devil!’

He says, ‘What, Mother?’

‘Laddie, you’re workin with the Devil. Drink is Devil’s work. It killed yer father and it’ll kill you.’

‘But, Mother, what do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m telling you, laddie,
it’s Devil’s work!
Laddie, where are ye gettin the money?’

‘Well, Mother, to tell ye the truth, I really met the Devil.’

‘Ye met the Devil?’ says his mother.

‘Aye, Mother, I met the Devil. And he’s comin for me – in a year’s time.’

‘But,’ she said, ‘what do ye mean?’

‘Well, to tell you the truth: I coaxed you for a shilling and I begged you for money. I was cursin and swearin at the crossroads and there I met a man. And he gave me a purse wi a shilling in it. And I sold my soul to him. He tellt me he’s comin for me in a year and a day.’

She said, ‘Laddie, where is the purse?’

Jack took the purse from his pocket and the old woman looked. It was a queer looking purse. She had never seen nothing like this before.

He said, ‘Look in it, Mother, see what’s in it.’

And the mother looked in. There was a single shilling in it, a silver shilling.

He said, ‘Mother, tak it out.’

And the old mother took it out. She held it in her hand.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘look in there, Mother!’

And she looked again: there was another one. She took another, and another one took its place. Oh, she catcht it and clashed it to the floor.

She says, ‘Laddie, that’s
the Devil’s purse
you’ve got!’

‘But,’ he says, ‘Mother, what can I do with it?’

She says, ‘Laddie, get rid of it. Ye ken the Devil’s got ye!’

‘But,’ he says, ‘Mother, I’ve tried. I’m beginning to understand now that your words are true. I threw it in the fire when you werena lookin, but it jumped back out again. I throw it away, it comes back in my pocket again. Mother, what am I goin to do? I dinna want to go wi’ the Devil!’

Now Jack began to get to his senses. He stopped drinking for a week, never had a drink. One shilling lay in the purse.

He said, ‘Mother, what can I do? He’s comin for me!’

‘Oh I ken, laddie, he’s comin for ye. We ken that. You shouldna hae took it from him in the first place.’

‘Mother,’ he says, ‘help me, please! I dinna want to go wi the Devil!’

‘Well,’ she says, ‘look, Jack, there’s only one thing I can tell ye: I have an old sister you’ve never met, your auntie, and she lives a long way from here, Jack. I was always askin ye to go and see her for a visit. She’s an old henwife and people thinks that she’s a bit of a witch, and if onybody can help you, she’s the only one that can. Would you tak my word, Jack, forget about the purse! Tak it wi ye, show it to her and explain yer case to her.’

‘But where does she bide, Mother? Ye never tellt me this afore.’

‘Oh, laddie,’ she said, ‘it’s a long way fae here.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘Mother, if she can help me I’m goin to see her!’

So the old woman told Jack where her old sister stayed. And the next morning Jack went on his way to find his old auntie. He travelled on for days and days and he finally came to his old auntie’s little cottage. She had a cottage on the beach by the shoreside and she kept hens and ducks. He walked up and knocked at the door.

And a very old bended woman came out and said: ‘Hello, young man! What do you want here?’

He said, ‘Auntie, do ye no ken who I am?’

She says, ‘What do ye mean? I’m no auntie of yours!’

He says, ‘I’m Jack, I’m your sister’s on.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘my sister’s son from the farthest point of Ireland! I never, never thought you would ever come and see me. Come in, laddie, come in! I’m pleased to see ye. And how’s my old sister?’

‘Yer old sister’s fine,’ he said. ‘But it’s me I’m worried about.’

‘And what’s wrong wi you, laddie?’ she said, after he’d had a wee bite to eat.

‘Well look, Auntie, to tell ye the God’s truth: I’m tooken over wi the Devil.’

‘Oh dear me, laddie,’ she says, ‘sit down and tell me about it.’

So Jack told her the story I’m telling you.

She says, ‘Laddie, show me the purse!’

And she took the purse, she opened it. There was one single shilling in it. She took the shilling out and she looked again – another one took its place. She took the first shilling, put it back in and the other one vanished.

She said, ‘Laddie, you’re really tooken over wi the Devil; that’s the God’s truth!’ So she took the purse and she put it on the little table. She said, ‘Jack, there’s only one thing ye can do. But wait a minute . . . ye can stay here the night with me. But tomorrow morning you want to go up to the village and see the local blacksmith. Tell him to put the purse on the anvil in the smiddie and to heat a horseshoe in the fire and beat that purse like he’s never beat anything before in his life! But I have a wee present for ye and I’ll gie it to you in the mornin.’