The Killing Snows

by Charles Egan

  ‘What can I do?’ Sabina said. ‘Just keep running the bar, that’s all. Mind you, that’s been hard enough the past few nights, what with everyone saying they’re sorry. But it’s settled down, and there’s even the odd bit of laughter in the bar, though there’s few enough there. At night it’s harder, it’s awful lonesome in a big house.’

  ‘You’ll be less lonesome when you have Brigid,’ Kitty said.

  Eleanor looked across at her in alarm. ‘Brigid…’

  ‘Sure she’ll have to be in Kilduff. Four nights a week perhaps. How else will she get her schooling. It’s there or Liscreggan.’

  ‘Don’t let Aileen hear you saying that.’

  ‘I won’t, but it’s the way it’s going to be. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Eleanor said. She sat on a stool by the hearth. ‘Yes, that’s the way it will have to be. But when? That’s the question.’

  ‘As soon as she’s three,’ Kitty said.

  ‘She’ll be three the year after next,’ Sabina said.

  ‘She will,’ Eleanor said. She was staring into the flames, thinking.

  Alicia dead and Brigid going. Stop being silly. It’s only Kilduff, it’s only a mile away, I can walk up whenever I like. She’ll be here three nights a week anyhow. And all the summer. But what when she gets beyond the school in Kilduff. Castlebar? She won’t be back on weekends then. Six years till then, they’ll only teach her four years in Kilduff. And then what? Oh, what’s wrong with me, I knew all that already.

  Eleanor and Michael did not speak about Farrelly. She wanted to keep her thoughts to herself for now. She knew how restless Luke was, and how much Ellen Morrisroe had unsettled him. Perhaps England had been as much on his mind as America at that time, but the news of Farrelly’s emigration had focussed everything, made America real.

  But she decided to wait and see what would develop. Someday more news would arrive from America, either through Mikey Jordan’s family or Farrelly’s. She never anticipated that the contact might be much more direct than that.

  But what about Pat? She had accepted for many years that Luke would emigrate, and when he did, Pat would take over. He was still young, but Mr. Burke would have no interest in evicting the family as long as they worked the quarry and paid their rent.

  But Pat’s lack of enthusiasm when he realised that the farm might be his had disturbed her. She had no idea what was behind it. The answer was not long in coming.

  One morning, while the men were out, she and Winnie were making brown bread. ‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘Isn’t it time we found a young girl for Pat.’

  ‘Aye,’ Winnie replied. ‘That might not be a bad idea at all. Though mind you, he might have some ideas of his own. There’s girls in Knockanure, and you know Pat, he’s a nice young fellow.’

  ‘Indeed he is,’ Eleanor said. ‘There’s many a girl would be happy to have him.’

  ‘There are. In fact, I think there’s already one who’d be interested, and I think he’s eyeing her up too.’

  ‘And who might that be?’

  ‘Sarah. Sarah Cronin. She’s over in the Workhouse!’

  ‘She’s in the Workhouse!’

  Winnie laughed. ‘Oh, no, not in that way. She’s the Matron’s daughter. Her father was the old Master – he died. She’s a lovely girl, sharp too.’

  ‘The Matron’s daughter! But that’s impossible. How do you know this?’

  ‘Well, I don’t. I only met her for five or ten minutes the time we came through Knockanure. She and Pat are working together on the books in the Workhouse. It was just the way they were talking and eyeing each other. I’m only guessing, mind you, but I think there’s something between them.’

  Eleanor returned to her work. The Matron’s daughter? She would be used to better things than Carrigard. And Pat was working as a clerk already. If there was anything between them, he would want to stay on in Knockanure. The look in his eyes when she mentioned the farm – perhaps that explained it all. He wanted to stay with the Union, if they would keep him. How likely was that? She had no idea. It was ironic though. It was what she had always hoped for, but never expected, a good clerical position for Pat. But if Luke left, what then?

  A few days later, a letter arrived.

  ‘There’s a letter there for you, Luke.’

  ‘Who is it from, Mother?’

  ‘How would I know? Winnie says it’s from America.’ Eleanor knew well who it was from.

  Luke sat down at the table, slitting it open with his knife. He felt all eyes on him as he glanced through it.

  ‘Well, who is it from? You can tell us surely.’

  ‘Farrelly.’

  ‘Farrelly,’ Michael exclaimed. ‘What does he have to say?’ Luke saw the look of alarm on his father’s face.

  ‘Seems he’s working on some railroad near Philadelphia.’

  ‘Philadelphia,’ Winnie echoed. ‘So why’s he writing to you?’

  ‘He wants me to join him. Says the money’s great, and he wants me to head up another gang.’

  That afternoon he worked with his father in the bog. Michael had said nothing all morning, and Luke was worried. The silence was ominous.

  They leant on their sleáns as a long line of carts and people streamed past. Most were in rags. The carts held high mounds of packs. On top, old men and women clung to the bags and the sides of the carts.

  ‘More from the Workhouse,’ Michael said.

  ‘I’d say you’re right.’

  When the convoy had passed, they took their sleáns and coats, and walked along the road towards the house. There were two men and a woman lying at the edge. Luke could smell the gangrene. Fever! He looked closely at all three. ‘They’re dead,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ Michael said. ‘They must have thrown them off the carts, the bastards. Didn’t want burying them.’

  ‘Damn it, why should we let them get away with that? I’ll go after them, you stay here.’

  He ran after the convoy. By the time he overtook the carts they were already entering Kilduff. He made his way to the front of the convoy. The leading cart was being driven by a man in the official uniform of the Workhouse. Luke ran up to him.

  ‘You’ve left some behind.’

  ‘The devil we have,’ the man said, aggression in his voice.

  ‘You have. Three dead. And they’re yours.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with us,’ the man responded and whipped the horse on. Luke grasped the bridle and stopped the horse. The other carts were stopping behind, dozens of eyes on Luke.

  ‘Let go, you bastard.’ the man shouted.

  ‘Not until you’ve buried them.’

  Abruptly the man lashed him across the cheek. Luke fell to the ground, writhing with the pain of it. The convoy trundled on.

  He got up and ran after the convoy. When he reached to top, the man lashed at him again, but Luke stepped back and caught the whip. The man tried to hold as Luke pulled back, but he could not. Luke stood holding the whip until the man jumped down, and swung at him. He grasped the man’s arm and twisted it sharply behind his back. The man screamed in pain. Luke swung him around and punched him on the nose, drawing blood. As he staggered back, Luke hit him harder, into the stomach and up towards the ribcage. The man fell to the ground, gasping. Luke stood over him.

  ‘You don’t ever attack people in this town again,’ he shouted. ‘Now go on, get moving.’

  The man clambered back on the cart, still gasping. Luke lashed at the horse with the whip. Then he stood at the side of the street, still holding the whip, as the convoy started forward again. He walked to the church and knocked on the door beside it. Father Reilly answered his knock.

  ‘We’ve got a dead woman and two dead men out the road.’

  ‘You don’t look too well yourself. What happened to your face?’

 
Luke felt the weal. It was bleeding. ‘Oh, some fellow whipped me.’ He held up the whip. ‘He won’t do it again.’

  The priest went in to collect his holy oils. As they walked out towards Carrigard, Luke explained what had happened.

  ‘You’re a tough man,’ the priest said.

  ‘No tougher than a man has to be.’

  When they arrived at the bodies, the priest administered the Last Rites. ‘We’re going to have to bury them,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ Luke said.

  ‘You’d better go back and get the cart,’ Michael said. ‘We wouldn’t want carrying them the way they are.’

  Luke left. When he arrived back, he and Michael manhandled the corpses into the cart. Then he knelt beside the ditch, washing his hands.

  He and the priest mounted the cart and started back towards Kilduff graveyard, as Michael walked back towards the house.

  Some time later, Luke arrived back.

  ‘Well, did you get them buried?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Not yet. Fr. Reilly is going to organise a few fellows from the town. I think we’ve done enough.’

  ‘Dead right, we have. But if they lose three just coming from Knockanure, God knows how many more they’ll throw off before they get to Westport.’

  ‘That’s someone else’s worry.’

  Eleanor served up the dinner. Cabbage and corn.

  ‘It shows you what I’ve always said,’ Michael said. ‘It’s only the beggars go. The best people, they stay at home.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Only the beggars go? That was only because the Union was paying to get rid of them. He thought about Farrelly. The best went too. The only difference was that they paid for themselves.

  That night he lay on the bed beside Winnie, reading the letter again and again in the weak candlelight.

  Mr. Luke Ryan C/o Pennsylvania Railroad

  CarrigardMarket Street

  Kilduff Harrisburg

  Co. Mayo Pennsylvania

  IrelandUnited States of America

  May 1, 1847

  My Dear Luke,

  You will be surprised to note the above address. I must confess I am no less surprised myself. In any case, I must tell you that I decided some time back to leave Leeds and travel to America with Mikey Jordan. I had written to a cousin of mine in Philadelphia about this, and from what he said the money is better over here. He was surely right.

  The journey was a terrible one, but we were better off than most. We slept on the upper deck together with some young farming men from the country around Frankfurt, but they only spoke Dutch, so we kept pretty much to ourselves. The lower deck was packed with hundreds of Irish, many from Mayo, I am sure. Big numbers of them died on the passage.

  When we arrived in Philadelphia, my cousin met us, and we stayed with him for some nights. But from all we heard, it appeared that the best chances were with the PRR who are presently building a railroad from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, which is in the western part of the State of Pennsylvania. So without wishing to impose further on my cousin, we travelled to Harrisburg with some other fellows from Mayo and Donegal. Harrisburg is a small town, perhaps a hundred miles west of Philadelphia. The line here is just starting, and we are working very hard. We have no settled lodgings, but a letter to the above address will find me, as one of our fellows goes there to collect the mail every week.

  Perhaps you will stay in Mayo, and that is your own choice. But there are great chances in this country to work hard, and earn better money than you have ever earned, even in England.

  Either way, we all look forward to hearing from you again.

  Your old friend,

  Martin Farrelly

  What now? He could not put his thoughts in order. He blew out the candle.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Winnie whispered beside him.

  ‘I don’t know, my love. He’s as bad as Danny, Martin is. Just as soon as we’re settled down, he writes and tells us how great things are everywhere else. Everywhere but Mayo.’

  ‘We said we’d wait.’

  ‘I know we did. But what are we going to do about Martin? He’ll be waiting for an answer, one way or another.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to write back yet.’

  He lay awake thinking. America? It was going to be America, but still the question was when. The real problem was the hunger. There were ships from Westport to America, but they cost money, and that kind of money could not be spared now. But if they waited for the hunger to be over, they could be waiting for ever.

  The only way he could see to make money fast was to join Danny again, but the talk with Corrigan had upset him. He had already known that Danny was ruthless. Exploiting helpless people was bad enough. But he had never suspected that Danny had such a savage streak of cruelty. Oh, to hell with all that.

  No one referred to Farrelly’s letter again. Luke walked down to Sabina. He swore her to secrecy and asked her opinion.

  ‘You’ll consider it, so,’ she said.

  ‘I will, and seriously,’ he said. ‘But I don’t even have an idea where Harrisburg is.’

  ‘Ian used to have maps of America.’

  ‘What? I never heard that.’

  ‘I don’t think he wanted encouraging you.’

  A few minutes later, they were poring over a map of the eastern United States.

  ‘Well, we’ve got Philadelphia,’ Luke said. ‘And we’ve got Pittsburgh, but there’s no sign of Harrisburg.’

  ‘It must be somewhere,’ Sabina said. ‘Martin wouldn’t lie, would he.’

  ‘I suppose not. Still, it must be one tiny place if they don’t even reckon it important enough to be marked. Not that it’ll matter much one way or another. The railway will have moved on before I get anywhere near Harrisburg.’

  ‘Why so?’ Sabina asked.

  “The first thing will be to get there, and given I’ll have to go over to England first, I sure as hell won’t be in Harrisburg any time soon.’

  ‘Why England?’

  ‘Where do you think the money for all this is going to come from? The damned hunger isn’t over and might never be. We’re surely not starving, but we’re not in the way of putting up cash for a ticket. And since we don’t have it here, I’ll have to go over to England to find it. Work with Danny again, maybe?’

  ‘Danny!’

  ‘Why not? It’s the fastest way I know of getting money on the railways. He’s always been asking me to join him.’

  Sabina looked doubtful. ‘But then you might stay in England, would you?’

  ‘Doubt it. And I wouldn’t want working for Danny forever.’

  ‘You’ve heard about what happened Jimmy Corrigan then?’

  ‘I have,’ Luke said.

  ‘It’s all over Kilduff, and I’d reckon the fellows in America will hear of it soon. A savage business, by all accounts. No, Luke, working with Danny? You’d never be able to show your face around here again. Nor with any of the Kilduff lads in America.’

  He placed a coin on the counter, shaking his head.

  ‘So what can I do?’

  She was silent as she drew a pint of Guinness and watched it settle.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘There might be other ways of doing it.’

  ‘Like what? Like bloody what?’

  Sabina placed the beer in front of him. ‘Tell me Luke, have you ever thought of the rest of the family. Even when the hunger ends – if it ends – we should be thinking of new chances. Not just the desperate need in the here and now. Mayo is finished, you know.’

  Luke sipped his beer thoughtfully. ‘That’s rough coming from you.’

  ‘It’s not a matter of being rough, it’s facing facts. If we want to break the hunger, we have to look much further than farming in County Mayo.’


  ‘But how…?’

  ‘America is half of the answer, Luke. We’ve got to get at least one of the family properly settled there, and able to bring others out when times are better.’

  ‘And that’ll cost money.

  ‘It will, Luke. It will.’

  ‘And what’s the other half the answer? ‘

  ‘Education.’

  ‘Education!’

  ‘Yes. For the whole family. And it’ll cost far more than we can ever afford here. So we’ve got to get you and Winnie to America, and the sooner the better. But it won’t be done through England. You’ll have to go direct. New York or Philadelphia if possible, otherwise Canada.’

  ‘Canada!’

  ‘Quebec is cheaper, from all I hear.’

  ‘But I’ve no money either way.’

  ‘No? But I might.’

  ‘You…?’

  ‘Not much, maybe. I can easy get more, though. Screw a bit more credit from the brewers. Tighten up what the cattle dealers owe. And the bank likes me too. It’ll all add up. Not a lot, but it should cover your tickets, and a bit more for when you reach Quebec or wherever.’

  ‘You really believe you could do all that?’

  ‘I’m sure I can.’

  ‘But you’ll have to be repaid.’

  ‘Now don’t be worrying your head about that. The first thing to remember is this, we’re all family. Even when you do have the money, there’s better things to do with it than repaying me. If ye’re all well set up in America in ten years’ time, then would be the time of thinking of settling up, and perhaps not even then. Who cares.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘No more ‘buts’ out of you, Luke. You and Winnie are the future of this family. I know that, your mother knows it. Even Aileen knows, and – dare I say it – so does Kitty.’

  ‘Kitty. What in hell does she have to do with this?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  In bed that night Luke told Winnie about Sabina’s offer. She was surprised.

  ‘You really think she could get the money?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s certain she can.’

  ‘But would you take it?’

  ‘What choice do we have, my love? We don’t have the money to spare here, that’s for sure and certain. My only other chance would be to work with Danny.’