I hurried off. The Government, after driving off the British Fleet, was likely to be in a good temper, but I did not wish to keep it waiting for me too long.
When I entered the room I found Conroy, McNeice, Malcolmson, Cahoon and the Dean seated at the table. Moyne was not there.
“I congratulate you, gentlemen,” I said, “on the result of the naval engagement. Malcolmson was perfectly magnificent. It was you, wasn’t it, who—?”
“I didn’t see anything magnificent about it,” said Malcolmson, sulkily.
“We’re damned well sick of being played with,” said McNeice.
“If the English Government means to fight us—” said the Dean, speaking explosively.
“Do you mean to say,” I said, “that you think the Admiral was not in earnest in that bombardment?”
“No more than the soldiers were yesterday,” said McNeice. “They fired over our heads.”
“And we’re not going to stand any more fooling,” said Malcolmson.
“We’re business men,” said Cahoon, “and this sort of play-acting won’t do for Belfast.”