Mary could not take her eyes off the scene being played out before her. She focused on one of the boats that had been lifted by a huge wave, heading towards the shore. Praying that James was on it, she held her breath as it got nearer. From nowhere, a bigger wave rose up and swallowed the boat with its crew. Her eyes searched until they hurt, dark clouds obscuring her view. When the moonlight broke through, all that could be seen was the empty, angry sea. Not a boat in sight. Feeling like a knife had been thrust into her heart, Mary ran upstairs to wake Annie.
Some of the other boats had been lifted along with theirs. James never took his eyes off Tom, waiting for his direction. Timing it as best he could, Tom gave the signal for Pat and Joseph to get behind James, tipping the bow of the boat up into the air. A vessel to their left had reached the top of a nearby wave. Moving forward, gathering speed, it was hit by a huge swell coming in from the side. Just as the sea was engulfing the helpless boat nearby, James and its crew were plunged into darkness. Pat and Joe continued to bail out water in anticipation of taking on more. It seemed like they were flying through the air and James was vaguely aware of other boats alongside them, surging forward, on the crest of the wave.
******
Annie was distraught at what she had been told. The two women clung to each other and cried, until Mary stood back and wiped her tears away.
"Will you keep an eye on Catherine, please? I will go down to the village and find out what news there is?" Mary drew a blanket around her shoulders before running out into the night.
All but the youngest and oldest villagers had gathered on the beach, watching helplessly as their husbands, sons, fathers and brothers were tossed about by the raging sea. Like a scene from a ballet, the small vessels moved gracefully through the darkness towards the shore, their bows raised into the air. The wave crashed onto the sandy beach, depositing the boats and their crew almost at the feet of the onlookers.
As she approached the crowd of people the sound of wailing and crying reached Mary's ears. She was sure her husband and his uncle had lost their lives. When James called out to her, she didn't respond immediately. It was Pat placing a hand on her arm as she passed him by, that made her realize she was not widowed.
"James, James," she was shouting, pushing her way through the crowd.
"Mary, I'm over here."
The young woman followed the voice of her husband and found him sitting on a seaweed covered rock, coughing and still calling her name.
"We lost a boat and three men. I thought I would never set eyes on you again."
They held each other until Pat joined them and helped James to his feet.
"We should get back to Annie, she will be worried sick," the old fisherman said.
The three tired figures made their way to the cottage, but before they reached it the door swung open and Annie ran out, thrusting herself into Pat's arms.
"Calm down, love, you can't get rid of me that easily. Sure how many times have I told you that?" he said, patting her back and kissing her wet cheek.
In the safe, steady, warmth of the cottage the men recounted their story to the women. The baby, who had woken up looking for a feed, was suckled, swaddled, kissed and passed to her father.
"The catch from the four remaining boats will be shared out and an equal portion given to the widows and children of the lost men," said Pat, "That being the case, we should have enough to do us till the weather clears. If you will excuse me, I am going up to bed now. I lost some good friends in that storm, I won't be much company for you tonight."
As he began to climb the stairs, Annie took his hand and said, "I will come with you, love, we can warm the bed together tonight."
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 year 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.”
A Pocket Full of Shells Page 3