A Pocket Full of Shells (4 page)

CHAPTER 9

     What had been a constant drizzle became a heavy downpour. James and Michael found themselves taking shelter in an overcrowded, derelict building. Babies were crying and old people lay on the damp floor, too exhausted to sit upright. The wind forced the rain in through the empty door and window frames and people huddled together, trying to stay dry. A young couple sat on the floor, their backs against the cold stone wall, with a small child on each lap. Their clothing thin and ragged. James was troubled by the sight of the young children shivering. He removed his coat, handing it to the father.

     “Wrap this around your family it will help keep them warm. I can share my friend’s coat.”

     As he sat on the floor, James put his hands over his face, trying to block out the misery surrounding him.

     “You can’t help everyone. In the end all we can do is help ourselves. What good will it do your family if you get sick? How are you going to stay warm now?” asked Michael, taking his coat off to share it with James.

     “I know, I know. It just isn’t possible to see all this suffering and not be affected by it. How do you do it, Michael?”

     “Do you think I don’t care? Of course I do, but I have my own family to think of. They are depending on me to provide for them. They will end up in the workhouse if anything happens to me. So I can’t afford the luxury of sympathy right now, James, and you need to toughen up or you will be no good to anybody.”

This was the first time Michael had ever felt anger towards his friend.

     “Pat and Annie will look after our families, they promised,” said James.

     “Your uncle is a fisherman, how many of his friends have drowned over the years? It could be his turn next,” said Michael.

James grabbed his friend by the neck of his shirt and pulled his face close. 

     “Don’t even think that, you should know better than to tempt fate,” he said, fighting the urge to throw a punch. 

Realizing he had gone too far, James released his grip and Michael moved away, letting his coat slip down onto the cold, damp floor. An uncomfortable silence filled the gap between them until James put out his hand and asked to be forgiven for the harsh words he had spoken. After a few seconds, Michael smiled and firmly shook his hand. 

     “We are both tired and hungry. Apology accepted.” 

The coat was pulled up and the two young men tried to get whatever sleep they could, under the circumstances.

     As the weak light of morning crept into the building, people stood up stiffly and stretched. The young father approached James holding out his coat. 

     “Thank you for your kindness,” he said.

     “I think you should keep it, for your children.” James replied.

     “They won’t need it where they are going. The workhouse provides clothing as well as shelter.  It’s just a temporary measure until I get work. These derelict buildings breed disease. My family will be better off there for a while.” 

He walked back to his wife, lifted up the smallest child, and took hold of the other little one’s hand.  The young family walked out into the cold, morning air without a backward glance.

     “At least you got your coat back,” Michael said.

     Thousands of Irish were pouring into Liverpool. Many had just walked away from their homes, with nothing left to lose. Others had been evicted, sometimes having their passage paid by landlords anxious to clear their land of tenants who couldn’t keep up with the rent. Some headed for Liverpool in the hopes of earning enough money there to take them on to America. Often they never made it out of Liverpool, even when they found work. All their money went on lodgings and food, with nothing left to save.

     “When will
Brigid’s mother and the girls be finished work?” asked James.

They had arranged to meet up with them in a park later that day.

     “They have every Sunday afternoon off and when the weather is dry they get together for a walk in the fresh air.” Michael sniffed as he spoke, “Not that you would call this fresh.”

     Having walked for hours around the city the young men realized how difficult it would be for them to find any kind of permanent work. Anyone they spoke to advised them to move on or go home. Quite a few said Manchester was promising. James and Michael talked it over while sitting in the park, waiting for the women to show up. By the time they had arrived the decision had been made to move on to Durham and join James’s brothers.

     Brigid’s sisters and her mother had brought jars of tea wrapped in a cloth, fresh bread, cooked beef and some cake with them.

     “One of the cooks took pity on you when we told her who we were meeting,” Michael’s mother-in-law said.

     “Tell her she’s an angel,” said James, “This is a banquet.”

The two men ate hungrily, but the women would only have tea, advising them to spare out the food and make it last for a day or two. James agreed, though Michael wanted to wolf down the lot.
Brigid’s mother wrapped up what was left of the meal in the cloth and handed it to James. She took a key from her pocket and put it in Michael’s hand.

     “The gardener is away until tomorrow morning and he is the only person who would use this key. There is a shed against the back wall of the garden, in among the shrubs. When it gets dark, climb over and let yourselves in. You will have to be gone by six in the morning, but don’t worry as I am up from half past five. I can easily slip out and wake you.”

Brigid’s youngest sister had become very friendly with the son of a barge owner. She had arranged some work for them loading cargo but it was only for a day.

     “Anything is welcome, there’s no work to be had here,” said James.

He told them of their decision to join his brothers in Durham, as they might have better luck there.

Brigid’s
mother was glad to hear it, assuring the young men that as long as they were with family things would work out. That had been the case with her own girls. Every Sunday they all got to see each other and it eased the homesickness for them. As darkness began to fall, James suggested they walk the women home. Michael linked his mother-in-law, telling her all about her grandson and what a good mother Brigid was. 

     “Annie and Pat are looking out for them, so you mustn’t worry and when I manage to get some work we won’t have any problem paying the rent. The house will be waiting for you when you return home.”

     Having said their goodbyes, the men took a walk down by the docks to pass the time, until they could sneak into the shed. The lights and laughter of the taverns drew them to look in through the windows, but they had no money to waste on drink. Women came up to the young men offering to show them around and give them a good time, asking if they had just come off the boats. Michael stared at them with his mouth open, amazed at their forwardness.

     James pulled him away chiding, “Stop drooling, you’re a married man.”

     “I know, and none of them are a patch on my Brigid, are they?” Michael said, proudly.

     “Nor on Mary,” said James, still pulling his friend by the arm, “Let’s get back to our little shed, we have an early start in the morning.”

     A tapping on the door woke James and he turned the key in the lock. Brigid’s mother stepped inside. 

     “Michael, get up. You will have to leave now in case the gardener decides to start earlier than usual. I could lose my job over this.”

     “We know, you took a big risk and we are very grateful,” James said. 

Michael kissed her on the cheek and wished her a good morning. His mother-in-law grabbed hold of his hand and pressed some coins wrapped in a piece of paper, into his palm. Both men began to protest.

“Me and the girls want you both to have this. I didn’t give it to you last night in case you might be tempted to have a drink. The taverns here are not exactly Paddy Mac’s now, are they? Have you seen the women who drink in them?”

James and Michael exchanged glances as
Brigid’s mother swept past, urging them to hurry up and climb over the wall.

“Don't throw away the paper, the name of the barge owner is on it, just show it to one of the shopkeepers near the canal and they will tell you where he is docked. He will be expecting you.” 

Hugging her one last time, they disappeared over the wall. She wiped a stream of hot, salty tears from her face before turning back towards the big house.

CHAPTER 10

     The owner of the barge was happy to have two strong, young men to help him, being short-handed for the trip to Leeds. They wanted to get to the east coast, so it suited everyone all round. James shook hands with the man and enquired as to when they should start.

     “Right away,” he said. “See that cart full of sacks of cotton, it needs loading.” 

Michael and James had removed their coats even before the sentence was finished.

     “Well, that’s what I like to see, a bit of enthusiasm about the job,” said Matthew, the barge owner. He gave them instructions as to how the sacks should be stacked and covered, then watched for a while to make sure it was done correctly.

     “You look quite capable of managing that on your own, if you need me I will be doing a bit of business in The Grape over there.” He pointed to a tavern near the lock and walked towards it.

     The young men enjoyed the work and by midday the cargo was loaded. Impressed with their speed and teamwork, Matthew asked if they would like to make the trip to Leeds and back. He had a consignment of coal to collect on his return to Liverpool. 

     “Is Leeds near Sunderland, by any chance?” asked James.

     “A lot nearer than here, that’s for sure. Why do you ask?”

     “I have family there and we want to join them if we cannot get regular work here. We can load up the coal for you in Leeds, if that’s any help,” said James.

Matthew thought for a moment. 

     “I wish I could give you something more permanent but my son needs the work, it’s him and his cousin you are filling in for today. At least you can get the transport and earn a little money on the trip. I will even throw in your meals, how does that sound to you?”

The young men beamed and thanked him for the offer. 

     Because James had grown up on a farm, he was well able to help out with the horse that pulled the barge. The hot food gave the hungry young men a boost of energy that kept them working all day. No job was too difficult for them, even repairing some damage that had been done to the barge, a task that the owner’s son had begun but never finished. Matthew was impressed and said so.

     “We are both fishermen, well used to looking after a boat,” James explained.

Matthew still had to work with the horse, knowing the canal and its difficult areas, but the two young men were quick learners and made the journey much easier for him. They even insisted on sleeping with the cargo to guard it during the night. Matthew had a collie that would wake them if anyone even walked past the barge. 

     “One of you could sleep in my son’s bunk. Why not take turns on watch?” Matthew suggested.

James said he would sleep up top for the first night so Michael went below, glad to have a bed to sleep in for the first time since leaving home. Matthew went to an Inn for a nightcap. When he came back he had a young woman on each arm. The trio looked at the sleeping James and one of the women nudged him with her foot.

     Early next morning, half asleep with his eyes closed, James smiled as he stroked the soft, long hair belonging to the warm body lying beside him. 

     “Mary,” he murmured as he slowly woke up.

     A roar of laughter from Michael jolted him out of his slumber. When he opened his eyes the collie was licking his face. 

     “So that’s how Mary wakes you up in the morning. She could teach Brigid a thing or two.”

A young woman brushed past Michael and stepped off the barge, blowing a kiss back to Matthew.

     “Where did she come from?” asked James, wiping his face.

     Matthew smiled and said, “We have an arrangement. In fact her friend came back here with us last night but you were out cold, James. Some watchman you are, and Michael couldn’t be woken either. Not that we tried too hard, both of you being married, you probably wouldn’t have been interested, would you?”

The young men shook their heads vigorously.

     “Would that have come out of our wages, Matthew?” asked Michael.

The barge owner shook with laughter.

     “Of course it would. All I’m providing is bed and board and a hot meal.”

     “Thanks for thinking of us,” said James, “But you are widowed and entitled to have an ‘arrangement.’ It wouldn’t be right for either of us. I’m glad we slept. We might have been tempted.”

     “I know, lad, the girls talked me into it. The other one went off with a man she knew,
who happened to be passing by.”

CHAPTER 11

     Having helped to load the coal on the barge, James and Michael bade farewell and thanked Matthew for getting them to Leeds.

     “Look me up next time you are in Liverpool,” he shouted back, as he set off to retrieve his horse from the stable in which it had spent the night.

A young man who had been glad of a lift to Liverpool, was on the barge unravelling ropes that would be needed for the journey. He warned the two Irishmen to be careful of where they slept and ate as there was typhus in the city, especially the east side, called the Bank. This was where many who had tried to escape the poverty and hunger in Ireland had ended up. It was a place they should avoid.

     “Shouldn’t we just keep walking and head for Sunderland?” Michael suggested as they looked around the streets.

James knew that would be the sensible thing to do. 

     “Matthew did say it would only take a couple of days to walk it,” he said, “Let’s buy some bread and ask someone to point us in the right direction.”

     A young girl was begging outside a shop as James and Michael went inside. They purchased some food and asked the baker which of the streets would lead them to the road for Sunderland. Giving them directions, he stepped outside.

     “Go on with you,” he shouted at the frail little thing standing at his door, hands outstretched.

     “Pesky beggars” he said as they watched her shuffle up the street and turn into an alley.

     As James and Michael approached the spot where the young girl had disappeared a pair of small, grubby feet could be seen on the ground sticking out from the laneway. James ran ahead to look around the corner and found her lying in the dirt crying, pitiful sobs shaking her tiny frame.

He gently picked up the child, asking where she lived. She was as light as a feather and cold as ice.

     “Cross Street,” she said weakly. “Do you know the Bank?”

     “If I carry you can you show us the way? Will your mother be home?” asked James.

The little girl shook her head. 

     “My mother died last week. My daddy will be there.”

Pleading with James to leave the child make her own way home, Michael followed, at a distance.

     Standing in front of the house the young girl had brought them to, James and Michael had to hold their noses to avoid the stench. They gave her the bread they had bought and watched as she ran inside, her bare feet ankle deep in muck. Both of them turned quickly and ran from the area, not stopping until they were sure the squalor and stench was far behind. Walking in silence, Michael didn’t know whether to be angry with his friend or proud of him. 

     After a day and a half’s walk James felt tired and asked Michael to rest up for a while. Finding a field through which a clear, stream flowed, the young men decided it was a good place to get some sleep. There was a small copse of trees at the water’s edge and if it rained at least it would afford some shelter. Night was falling fast, bringing with it a cold breeze. Michael was shivering with the drop in temperature. He watched his friend sleep. There was something different about James. He was shivering too, but there were beads of sweat on his forehead. 

     “James, James, wake up.” Michael was worried.

     “I
c..c..can’t st..stop sha..k...king,” James was drenched.

     “You have a fever. Could you walk if I helped you? We need to get to your family.” 

Michael took hold of his friend’s hand and pulled. James tried to stand but slumped to the ground within seconds. There was only one thing to do. Taking his coat off, he carefully placed it over James, saying he would go find his brothers and bring them back with him. Filling the jar his mother-in-law had given them with water from the stream, Michael set it beside James and placed a wet cloth across his forehead.

     “Keep sipping the water. I won’t be long, nobody would give us a ride with you as sick as you are, but I might get one on my own. I promise, James, I will be back soon, even if I have to run all the way.”

     Michael ran through the night, until he got a lift on a cart, having promised to help unload it.  Following the directions given him by the carter, Michael found the street that the McGrother families lived on. It was still dark as he knocked loudly on the first door he came to. A sleepy old man appeared, a worried look on his face.

     “Where’s the fire, son? What has you calling at this hour of the night?”

     “Please, mister… tell me which house... the McGrother’s live in. Their brother… needs help,” Michael could hardly breathe having run non-stop for almost an hour. He was bent over, hands on his knees taking in huge gulps of air.

The old man crossed the street and banged on a door. Michael recognized Owen as soon as he laid eyes on him.

     “James is sick, I left him to rest while I ran on ahead. Can you get a cart? We could be there in a few hours with a horse.”

     Everything happened at once. Owen’s wife, Rose, gathered whatever blankets could be spared from her relatives. Someone arrived at the top of the street with a horse and cart. Owen and his wife, along with Michael, climbed onto it. The carter gave the reins to Owen and jumped down, saying the horse would get there quicker with less weight to pull. Michael told them about the young girl James had carried and how they had run from the squalor she was living in. 

     “I think he picked up the fever from her,” he said. 

     “Typhus doesn’t come on that quick, it would take at least a week. Did you sleep in a crowded place when you arrived in Liverpool or were you kept below deck on the way over?” asked Rose.

     “We stayed above deck all the way over, but some people died on the journey. A doctor looked in our mouths before we were allowed off the boat.”

Then Michael remembered something.

     “We spent the first night in Liverpool in a crowded ruin of a place because the weather was so bad. James gave his coat to a young family whose children were shivering with the cold. The father gave it back to him next morning.”

     “I don’t think it was just the cold making them shiver. It might have been the fever,” Owen said.

     It wasn’t long before Michael saw the copse of trees and Owen reined in the horse. As the cart came to a halt Michael jumped down. Rose handed him the blankets and a bag containing herbs and medicine. The two of them climbed over the fence and raced up the field, while the horse was being tethered. 

     “James, I’m back. Owen and Rose are with me,” shouted Michael running towards his friend, who was sitting up resting against a tree.

There was a strange look in James’s eyes and he was beating the ground around him with a stick. Michael tried to coax him into drinking some water.

     “He’s delirious,” said Rose standing at a distance. “James, we need to put you in the stream, do you understand what I’m saying?” she shouted.

     Still brandishing the stick, James looked at his sister-in-law and cried out, “Mary, get back. The dogs will eat you, they’re hungry, go home, love. Take care of Catherine.”

Owen stepped forward to go to his brother but Rose put her arm across his chest, stopping him.

     “Don’t touch him yet. Take off all your clothes. Michael you can leave yours on. You are going to bring James to the stream and hold him down.”

     “Am I to get into the water fully dressed?” asked Michael.

     “It looks like typhus, which is spread by lice,” said Rose, “So James and his clothes are probably crawling with them. You may have picked up some yourself. Everything you are wearing will need to be boiled, but for now, dunking will have to do.”

Owen was already naked, kneeling down beside his youngest brother, having left his clothes in a pile near the cart. Michael helped him remove his friend’s clothing, which was damp with sweat.

     The two men carried James, who was still lashing out at something only he could see. He screamed when they put him into the cold water. It took all their strength to hold him down. Michael freed the stick from his clenched fist. After a few minutes, James’s body relaxed as he passed out. Rose gave them the soap she had brought with her and they laid him on the grass to wash him down. Wrapped in blankets and carried back to the cart, James seemed to be in a restful sleep, in spite of having a rasping cough. Owen picked up his brother’s clothes and held them under the cold water for a few minutes. Rose urged the men to wash themselves with the soap, as a precaution. 

     “Come on Michael, let’s make sure we don’t bring any unwelcome guests back with us,” said Owen.

He stood on the grassy bank and lathered his body, while Michael looked on shivering, still in his wet clothes.

     “What’s wrong with you, boy? Strip off and soap up.”

Michael turned his head to look at the cart. Realizing that the young man was too embarrassed to stand naked in front of a woman, Owen laughed.

     “Don’t mind our Rose, she works at the infirmary. There’s nothing she hasn’t seen, Michael. Besides, she’s too busy caring for James to be bothered looking at you – and me she can see anytime,” said Owen, throwing the soap.

Michael caught it and laughed. 

     “I suppose you’re right,” he said, peeling off his drenched clothing. 

Owen jumped into the stream to rinse off. Before getting dressed, he gathered the wet clothes belonging to James and Michael and tied them into a bundle to hang off the cart. Rose said she would boil them when they got home. The sun was beginning to rise but the air was chilly and Michael shivered, glad of the blanket he had been given.

     “How are you feeling yourself?” Rose asked.

     The young man shrugged his shoulders, “Hungry and cold, but not sick.”

     “You should be alright so. But let me know the minute you feel unwell,” said Rose.

Michael nodded and looked at James, who was deathly pale. Rose could see how anxious he was about his friend and felt the need to reassure him.

     “He is as strong as a horse. Don’t worry about him. One of the doctors gave me some medicine they use in the infirmary so I could look after a sick neighbour. I still have plenty left. Anyway, not everyone dies from typhus, you know. It’s mostly the old, the very young and those suffering from starvation that do. A weakened body finds it hard to fight off disease.” 

Rose gave Michael another blanket as he was still shivering. The journey back home was a quiet one, with everyone too exhausted to make any attempt at conversation.