Chapter Twenty-Five
The Captain – the warehouse – the machine – Shaughnessy – a trial of sorts – punishment
The Captain strode back into the base. It was a warehouse, its huge, dusty interior mostly taken up by the great machine in its centre, like a cast iron cigar. The fomhuireán. The Manannán mac Lir.
The bustling workmen stopped work to salute. “Don’t waste time with that, you lazy sods!” The Captain grinned. “There’s work to be done!”
The men laughed and went back to their work, painting the streamlined form of the great machine. The Captain nodded and lit a panatela. Work was progressing well. On most fronts.
“Captain,” Hanrahan the foreman said. “There’s a rumour that the Iron Duke came under attack.”
“No such luck!” the Captain said. “It was the factory next door, such as mak
