A Pocket Full of Shells (3 page)

CHAPTER 6

     The families of the drowned fishermen, all female with no man to provide for them, decided to move to Liverpool. One of them had relatives there and was told that a word in the right ear could lead to a job for the women as domestics in some of the big houses. The potato crop had failed again for the second year running and for those who couldn’t pay their rent it meant the workhouse or the boat. Most of those leaving the area were heading for Liverpool from Dundalk. It was a sad day for the village when the two widows and their three daughters left. An older girl, Brigid, who had married the year before and was living with her husband’s family, moved into her parent’s cottage with permission from the landlord. He had been very sympathetic, providing coffins for the burials of the four men, whose bodies had been washed ashore the day after the storm. Wreckage from their boat had been scattered along the beach and on the rocks. 

    
Brigid’s husband, Michael was also a fisherman and worked on his father’s boat. His parents’ house was crowded enough already and the young couple were expecting their first child. If they could afford to pay the rent on the cabin it would mean Brigid’s family would have a place to come back to if things didn’t work out in England. A close friendship had developed between Michael and James and their wives. The two young women spent a lot of time searching through the woods with Annie, learning about the cures she had for different ailments and the plants that were edible or poisonous. In late summer there were wild berries to collect and in the autumn, mushrooms. If they came across a puffball, there was great excitement, it was as good as a piece of meat and made a tasty meal.

     It was on one of these walks in October, while carrying her baby and a sack of mushrooms, that Mary heard her friend
Brigid call out in distress, some distance behind her. Annie had stayed close to the young, heavily pregnant woman, as both of them were tired and kept the same pace. When Mary reached them, Brigid was lying on a bed of leaves while the older woman examined her swollen belly. Annie held her arms out to take Mary’s baby.

     “Quickly now, give me Catherine and go fetch Michael. He will have to carry
Brigid, it will take her too long to walk back and I think she is very far on in her labour.”

     Mary knew it would take twenty minutes at least for her to reach the village. She prayed that the baby wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to be born, remembering how quickly she had given birth to Catherine seven months before.

     The men were mending their nets in preparation for an evening’s fishing. Michael knew by the way Mary ran towards them that something was very wrong. He went to meet her as she slumped to the ground, trying to catch her breath.

     “It’s
Brigid....the baby....coming,” she gasped. 

James shouted back to one of the young boys helping with the nets to run and tell Kitty Carroll.

     “Bring her to Michael’s house so she can get things ready,” he said.

     “Come on, Mary, show us where she is,” said James, lifting his wife up and helping her along.

     “Annie is with her, and Catherine too,” replied Mary. “We were gathering mushrooms. It came on all of a sudden.”

     Michael raced ahead of his friends and soon heard
Brigid’s cries coming from deep in the woods. He knelt beside her and Annie told him to wait until the pain had eased before lifting his wife. 

The older woman looked from Mary to
Brigid and shook her head slowly.

“I don’t know why your babies are in such a rush to get into this world, if they knew the state of it they would stay put.” 

It was a long contraction and as soon as Annie felt the muscle soften on Brigid’s abdomen she instructed Michael to lift her up.

They made their way through the trees, the men taking turns in carrying the young woman, not stopping, even when she cried out with each band of pain that tightened around her belly.

     Kitty Carroll had the water boiling and clean cloths ready by the time Michael carried Brigid into their home. The men were swept back out through the door to wait, while the women bustled around preparing for the new arrival. Each cry of pain that his wife let out drew Michael to the door.  James had to stop his friend from going in several times. Just after a loud scream, the cry of a baby was heard and wild horses could not have dragged the young man back. Michael burst in through the doorway and sat at Brigid’s side, kissing her brow and telling her how brave she was. Annie was cleaning the baby and swaddling it in a blanket.

     She handed the
newborn infant to Michael saying, “Look at the head of black hair on him. There’s no mistaking whose son he is.”

The young father beamed. “A boy,
Brigid, well done. We should call him Francis, after your father. Your mother will like that. We can call the next one after mine.” 

The baby started to wriggle and squirm and Michael handed him to
Brigid.

     “I think he wants a feed, love,” he said.

Annie grabbed Michael by the arm and pulled him up, dragging him towards the door.

     “Your poor wife has been through enough without you planning on the next child already. Off you go to Paddy Mac’s and wet the baby’s head. This isn’t the time to have a man about, under our feet. Away with you now.”

“It will be a cup of tea we’ll be getting at Paddy Mac’s – if we are lucky, that is,” Michael said to James as he joined his friend outside, “After a second year of blight there’s nothing to make any poitín from,”

“Ah would you stop your whining. We are bound to get a drop of porter at least. Sure Paddy Mac is only too happy to have the promise of some fish in exchange for his drink,” said James.

The two young men set out to celebrate, determined to push as far away as possible the worries that came with fatherhood – at least for one evening. It was a good thing they could not see what the months ahead would bring.

CHAPTER 7

     The winter of 1846 was particularly harsh due to another failure of the potato crop. A relief committee had been established in the parish in October of that year. Local contributions and government grants supported schemes like road works, mostly employing women, young children and the elderly, who were deemed unsuitable for working the land. Pat and James had stored up enough salted herring to see them through the winter. They even had a couple of hens left, having sold some to pay their rent the month before.

     “There’s talk of men earning up to four shillings a day, in England,” said Michael, who had called to see James one evening.

     “That’s only the navvies, they are seasoned workers. You would be lucky if you got half that, son,” Pat said.

     Mary shook her finger at Michael saying.

     “So you are the one putting ideas of leaving us into my husband’s head.”

     “Now that’s not fair,” said James, “I was the one who suggested it when the blight struck again this year. Michael is right to think about it. Half the county are heading over to Liverpool, in fact, whole families are going.”

     There was a heavy silence in the room as everyone thought about what had been said. Only the sound of the flames from the burning turf could be heard.

     “What does
Brigid say about it, Michael?” Mary asked.

     “She says she would go with me if we didn’t have Francis, but she won’t bring him because of the disease and fever that’s raging over there.”

     “I wouldn’t want you and Catherine to risk it either, Mary,” James said, “If we go it will only be for a few months in the spring. We would need to be back here for the summer to fish and cut the turf. Pat’s getting too old to do all that now.” 

     “I was thinking of going with you, it might be nice to go to bed and not have someone climb in and take all the heat from me,” the older man laughed.

Annie slapped him on the leg and laughed back.

     “If you go over there, chances are you will end up sleeping in the gutter, and there will be plenty wanting to climb in with you – not all human at that.”

     Mary was upset and did not try to hide how she felt.

     “I don’t want you to go, we can manage until the summer can’t we?”

     It was obvious to everyone in the room that the two young men were serious about leaving. James agreed they could probably feed themselves for the winter but asked if anyone knew how they would they get money to pay the rent. Michael was already a month behind.

     “We could sell something, my lovely wooden bowls might fetch a good price,” offered Annie.

     “When that money is gone what would we do? It’s no good putting off what needs to be done.  The fares are so cheap now we should take advantage of it. If we don’t get work in Liverpool then we can go on to Durham and stay with my family. There are plenty of McGrothers there now.” 

James had given it a lot of thought and was prepared to do whatever it took to keep a roof over their heads. Mary wanted to know how he was going to raise the money for the journey.

     “Michael and myself have been talking about this for a while now. The worst of the weather will be behind us by the time March comes in, and we can sell or pawn our heavy coats, we won’t need them by then.” 

     As it turned out, nobody had to sell their coat because the landlord had some ditches that needed digging and the two young fishermen earned their fare with enough left over to cover a couple of month’s rent. Mary and
Brigid tried to talk them out of leaving when March came round, but it was no use, their minds were made up. It was a month before Catherine’s first birthday when James and Michael bought the tickets. With heavy hearts the men said goodbye to their wives at the quays in Dundalk. The babies had been left in the care of Annie and Pat, while the couples walked the two miles into the town. 

     “Don’t stand close to anyone coughing or sweating. Do you hear me, both of you?” Mary cautioned.

     “That might be difficult, look at the crowds waiting to board,” said Michael apprehensively, uneasy himself about the journey.

     James drew his wife into his arms, murmuring, “Is this too close?” and kissed her.

     “This is definitely too close for anyone but me, sick or not,” she said.

Mary was trying to keep a smile on her face but her heart felt heavy and ached. She didn’t want her husband to remember her frowning and upset as he sailed away. Looking over at
Brigid, who was crying, Mary could see that Michael was having difficulty in consoling his young wife.

     “I’m not sure I want to watch you both leave, it might be better to say our good byes here. What do you say
Brigid?” Mary called out to her friend.

James was about to disagree. He wanted to watch his wife as he left the shore and drink in every last detail of her until she disappeared from his sight, but he knew she was trying to make it easier for
Brigid.

Instead he agreed with the suggestion.

     “That’s the best thing to do, Mary. It will be hard for the two of us sailing away from both of you.  Better for you to be leaving us. What do you think, Michael?”

His friend nodded in agreement. As
Brigid held on tightly to him, Michael kissed her, promising that everything would be alright and they would be home in no time.

     “I will be watching from the house, you know that don’t you,” whispered Mary, not wanting to pull herself out of her husband’s arms.

James brushed her forehead with his lips.

“I know, love. I will be standing on the deck looking back until I cannot see land anymore.”

     Having said their goodbyes, the two young women walked away, turning every few steps to wave and blow kisses to their men.

     “Stop snivelling and give Michael a smile,
Brigid. Do you want him to remember his wife with swollen red eyes and a snotty nose?” Mary knew she was being harsh but it needed to be said.

There was a loud sigh and a sniff, then
Brigid straightened up her shoulders and turned around putting a brave smile on her face.

James watched as they rounded a corner and disappeared. A sharp pain went through him as the memory of waving goodbye to his brothers and sisters on the road from Monaghan, only a little over a yea
r before, came flooding back.

CHAPTER 8

     The crossing was rough for most of the people on board, but not for James and Michael, who were seasoned fishermen. The young men tried not to look at the dreadful state many of the children were in. There was nothing they could do and it made them realize how lucky they were to still have a roof over their heads. One little girl in particular caught Michael’s eye. He pointed her out to James. 

     “She looks a bit like Catherine, doesn’t she?” he said.

     “Too much like her. If we don’t find work our own families could end up on a boat like this and in the same condition,” said James sadly.

     “Don’t think like that, as long as we can come up with the rent, they will be fine. Pat and Annie will make sure there’s food to keep them all going till we get back.” 

     Michael took from his pocket one of the flat cakes of meal Annie had prepared for their journey, handing it to the small child. She looked sickly and frail but when her older brother tried to grab it she hid the food under her armpit, holding on tight. No amount of tugging on his part could dislodge her hand. James stepped forward with another cake, holding it out to the boy, who looked to be four years old. His mother smiled, thanking them for their kindness.

     “Do ye have children yourselves?” she asked.

The men nodded and told her they were travelling alone to Liverpool to look for work.

     “Be very careful who you trust over there,” she looked around, lowering her voice. “Just because someone is a fellow Irishman doesn’t mean they won’t cheat you. Make sure you see your lodgings before you hand over any money. My husband has been working in Liverpool for the past six months so I know what I’m talking about. The first day he arrived he ended up in a wet, stinking cellar in Scotland Road. He had paid a week’s rent and couldn’t get his money back. In the short time he was there, three people died of typhus. He came back from work one day and sat down on a bench to rest, talking to the man beside him. When he got no answer, my husband nudged him and the poor unfortunate just keeled over. Stone dead he was. That was on the fifth day, two others having died the night before. My man got himself out of there fast, even though he had two days left on his rent.”

     James offered her one of his cakes but the woman shook her head.

     “I better not, I don’t feel too well and it would be an awful waste to throw good food up over the side, wouldn’t it?”

Michael stepped back pulling James with him which made her laugh. 

     “Don’t worry, it’s not the fever. I’m just seasick. My husband fished for years and brought me out on occasion when the sea was calm. It didn’t make any difference.” 

She pointed to a line of people leaning over the side and emptying what little there was in their stomachs into the choppy sea. 

     “At least I’m not as bad as that. Maybe it’s because I have these two wee ones to care for and can’t afford to get sick.”

     “Thanks for the advice about the lodgings, did your husband find a decent place in the end?” asked James.

     “He did, or we wouldn’t be joining him. Avoid the Scotland and Vauxhall Road areas. They are the worst with more disease and poverty packed into one place than you ever saw in your life.  Anywhere outside of those would be safe enough. We are going to share a small house with my husband’s cousin and his family. In time we should be able to get a place of our own. Getting some schooling for the children is important too, would you agree?”

     James smiled and said, “My father went to a hedge school and told me he was always freezing in the winter, having to learn to read and write in a ditch. When a school was permitted to open only a mile from our house, he made sure myself and my sisters attended. My older brothers were all working so I was the only son in our family that got an education. Even after the death of our parents, when I was very young, my sisters dragged me to school with them. As soon as I reached the age of ten I put my foot down and refused to go. I told them I was ready to work in the fields alongside the other men. I’m sorry now I didn’t stay a bit longer – it would have made me a better reader.”

     “Figures are what’s important, never mind letters. You can put a cross where your name needs to go but if you can’t count your change then you are in big trouble,” Michael said.

     “I suppose you’re right about that. Neither myself nor my husband can read or write but nobody can short change us, that’s for sure,” agreed the woman.

Someone shouted they could see land and James and Michael, excusing themselves, went to the bow to get a glimpse of their destination. 

     Sailing into such a huge port full of ships and boats of all shapes and sizes was overwhelming for the two young men. Their eyes darted from one thing to another as they nudged elbows and pointed fingers at each new sight. It took a few minutes for James to actually see the people teaming on the docks like ants.

     “Have you ever seen that many people in one place before, Michael?” he asked.

     “As a matter of fact I have – even more. Daniel O’Connell came to Dundalk about five years ago. New Year’s Day, 1842, to be exact. I thought I would never in my life see a bigger crowd than the one that gathered for that. Sixty or seventy thousand turned up.”

     “I can’t imagine a bigger crowd than that.” James said looking down on the people bustling around the quay as their boat docked.

     “I can, easily,” said Michael feeling like a man of the world. “In June of the following year he came to Castletown and my father brought me there to hear him speak. They say he spoke to a gathering of three hundred thousand that day, me included.”

James was impressed, this was a side of his friend he hadn’t seen before. 

     “So you will be well used to making your way through a crowd. I don’t need to worry about us getting lost or robbed, do I?”

Michael laughed at that.

“As long as I’m sober, we’ll be fine. Just don’t let me drink too much, I can’t handle it. My father practically carried me the two miles home from Dundalk the first time we heard O’Connell speak. I was only seventeen and it being New Year’s Day as well, sure the drink was flowing, though mostly among the younger men.”

     Before anyone could leave the boat James saw two men come on board. One of them carried a black doctor’s bag and went below deck with some of the crew. A little while later three bodies were brought up. The anxious crowd, waiting to disembark, separated to form a passageway allowing the stretcher bearers to pass through. As a heavy silence hung in the air, James became aware of the different sounds coming from the docks below; horses, people, the squeak of pulleys hoisting cargo. It seemed like he was in the middle of a dream as he watched the stretchers move slowly past him.

     The silence was suddenly cut with a cry he had heard before. It was the same sound Mary had made when she saw her mother’s body on the cart. A shiver went down his spine. The doctor came up on deck and stood to one side of the gangplank, calling forward the crew carrying one last stretcher. On it were two tiny bodies wrapped in white sheets. James gasped as he saw a small flat cake, grasped tight by a little hand, sticking out from beneath one of the covers. Two women followed the stretcher, sobbing and holding onto each other, a young boy between them trying to keep up, buried in their skirts. 

     A lump like a rock had formed in James’s throat. He fought back tears, thinking of his own daughter and how vulnerable she was. 

     “Are you okay?” Michael asked. 

James nodded, forcing himself to swallow. 

     “I was thinking of Catherine. I can’t imagine what that little girl’s father will feel like when he finds out. It would kill me.”

     “Do you think it was the fever, or the hunger?” asked Michael.

James sighed deeply.

     “Both,” he said, “If there was no starvation there would be no fever. She wouldn’t even be on this crowded vessel if her father could have stayed at home.”

     Nobody was allowed onshore until the doctor had examined their throats. One by one, the passengers filed past him as he looked into their mouths. Every now and again someone would have to stand to one side, denied permission to leave the boat. James and Michael stepped ashore, joining the crowd of hungry, ragged people who had crossed the Irish Sea hoping for something better. For some, that did happen, but for others it was a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire.