by Charles Egan
But there were other matters to consider closer to home. Irene. It would be a bitter battle for the control of Edwardes & Ryan. Her ways of doing things horrified him. Bribery? Was that the price of successful business? Could he handle that kind of business and hide it from the authorities, so that he did not end up in prison himself?
He had little doubt that at some time they would join battle, and he would have to win. To do that, he would have to be even more ruthless than Danny. More cunning too. Could he do it? Or would he end up a common labourer on the railways? A mere Irish navvy.
That night, he slept well through sheer exhaustion.
*
Next morning, he walked into Irene’s office.
‘I trust you sorted out the Mackenzie contract?’ she asked, without even looking up.
‘I did,’ he said. He took a seat and sat in front of her. ‘And I spoke to Ackroyd. Very helpful he was too.’
‘I’m sure he was.’
‘I’m sure he had reasons for being helpful too,’ Murtybeg said.
She looked up, glaring.
‘What business is it of yours?’
‘How much did you pay him?’
‘Fifty pounds. It’s the going rate.’
‘Does anyone else know about this? Does Mackenzie know?’
‘Now what do you think? If Mackenzie found out, Ackroyd would be fired. Do you think he wants that? No, he wants to keep his job, and he wants to keep the money coming.’
‘Who pays him?’
‘No one. It’s just posted to him. No name, no way anyone can be traced. He knows where it’s coming from though. Now forget all this nonsense, we’re going to have to find labour.’
‘And we firing men only a little while back.’
‘Never mind that. That was when Danny was in charge. It’s different now.
‘It is,’ Murtybeg said.
‘Now for labour – I hear the Famine’s back in Mayo. Perhaps you should go over there, recruit more men – say five hundred – just the same way you did when Danny asked you. That way, you can do what you’re good at, and I’ll do what I’m good at.’
‘There won’t be any call for going to Mayo, there’s plenty of cheap labour in Bradford.’
‘After the riots?’ she exclaimed.
‘Even more, after the riots. The whole Broomfields area of Bradford, it’s as poor as ditch-water. Kirkgate too.’
‘But they’re not Mayo.’
‘And that is where you are wrong. There’s more Mayo men in Bradford than any city in England. Excepting maybe Liverpool, and I’m not going there again. They put down one rebellion in Bradford, I don’t want to be caught in another in Liverpool.’
‘Fine so. Your choice.’
*
The days continued in a strange sort of way. They worked together, though the hostility simmered endlessly. He would have to defeat her, but in the meantime, be conceded to her ways of getting new contracts. He always met the contractor, sometimes meeting someone that she specified. He had no idea how she identified the key contact in the main contractor, nor how he was bribed, but he decided it was best to ask no questions for the present. That could come later. But for now, they were doing very well.
The one major problem was the Bank. Their cashflow was satisfactory, but the business was expanding, and more borrowings would be required. He wrote to the Manchester & Salford Bank, asking for an appointment. He was asked to present himself the next Tuesday, and ask for a Mr. James Winrow. He confirmed with Irene that Winrow was Danny’s old contact. He guessed that Winrow might have been a factor in Danny’s death, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He knew he was about to find out a lot more.
He was worried. If the pressures on Danny were sufficient for him to kill himself, how would he, as Danny’s younger brother, carry on the business? How could Edwardes & Ryan survive? And if it didn’t, what was his future? Soon though, another thought occurred to him. If Edwardes & Ryan really was in trouble, so was the Manchester & Salford Bank. He was beginning to think that only he knew how Edwardes & Ryan could avoid collapse. The question was – could he persuade this Winrow fellow? Suddenly, he had no doubt that he could. He would have to be tougher than Danny though. Far tougher.
When he entered the bank, the chandeliers startled him. It struck him at once why Danny would have had to create such a strong impression. For a moment, he was nervous, but when he considered it, he decided there was no need for fear. He was an owner of a large and growing labour contracting business. This Winrow fellow was only a senior clerk in a bank.
He sat down to wait.
‘Mr. Ryan? Winrow’s the name.’
Murtybeg stood. Winrow’s face was long, and somewhat sallow. Murtybeg studied his eyes. Intelligent, no doubt, but was he a tough negotiator? He followed him up to his office.
One of the clerks brought tea. At first the conversation centred on the recent riots in Manchester, Bradford and Ireland. But Murtybeg was on his guard. Oddly, he felt more alive than he had ever done in his life.
Then Winrow came to the point.
‘We hear your brother is dead?’
‘Yes,’ Murtybeg said. ‘Killed by a train. A horrible accident.’
‘Yes,’ Winrow replied, ‘most unfortunate. It leaves us in a very difficult situation though. You are aware of the financial situation of Edwardes & Ryan?’
Murtybeg was thinking fast.
‘My brother kept a lot to himself.’
‘Perhaps, then, you might be so good as to cast your eye down this.’
He passed a sheet over to Murtybeg.
‘As you can see, on Edwardes & Ryan’s last loan relating to the works on the North Staffordshire line, full repayment was to be made by May. I must tell you, Mr. Ryan, this repayment has not been made.’
‘Nor will it be made,’ Murtybeg said, ‘unless Edwardes & Ryan stay trading.’
Winrow’s eyebrows rose.
‘Stay trading?’
‘That is just what I said, Mr. Winrow. You cannot take my brother to court, and I owe you nothing.’
‘That is debatable.’
‘Perhaps, but it is at least uncertain, and your loss may be even larger than you think. If you want me to take on the debt, you must let us pay you over the next few months.’
‘You mean you want to trade your way out of bankruptcy?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Murtybeg answered, ‘We are only bankrupt if you force a bankruptcy. Yes, we will have a cash bind. But the cash will come in, I can assure you of that.’
‘In the present condition of the railway market, you say the cash will come in?’
‘Most certainly. And whatever you might think, the market is getting better. Yes, we have had riots across the country, but the money markets have great faith in railways. Where else can they invest their money?’
Winrow shook his head.
‘I wish I could have your confidence, Mr. Ryan. All these small contractors you are working for; they are hardly the most creditworthy.’
Murtybeg was feeling angry now, but he succeeded in not showing it.
‘True enough,’ he said. ‘We do work for small contractors.’
‘Including Andersons, I believe.’
‘Yes.’
‘You know the financial position of Andersons?’
‘I do not. I would consider that to be a private matter between Andersons’ and the bank.’
That quietened him, Murtybeg thought. He can’t tell me about Roy’s financial position, or he would be in breach of faith. Even what he said was a breach of faith. But it gives me a warning.
‘Yes, yes of course,’ Winrow answered. ‘But even apart from Andersons you are working for some very small contractors.’
‘Not very much anymore, Mr. Winrow. In fact, the most of our work will be with the greatest contractor of all. Brassey…’
‘On the North Staffordshire line? That has ended.’
‘Yes, our contract has ended, but there are other smaller B
rassey excavations on the North Staffordshire to be bid for. We have a high standing with Brassey. And we have the Mackenzie contract too.’
‘That too will finish soon.’
‘Yes, but we have just signed another contract with Mackenzie over in Bradford.’
‘Winrow looked at him in astonishment. ‘You’re working for Mackenzie again?’
‘We are.’
‘I hadn’t heard that.’
‘We’ve only just taken on the contract.’
Winrow looked more astonished than ever.
‘And how are you going to finance this new contract, pray tell me?’
‘Through the Manchester & Salford Bank, of course.’
‘Through the Bank!’
‘Yes. Like I said to you, Mr. Winrow, we have a little problem with our cash flow. You can allow us to trade out of it, but if you don’t, and force us into bankruptcy, you will take a loss. And cause huge delays to Brassey and Mackenzie contracts, both clients of yours, I understand.’
Winrow stared at him. He had gone pale.
‘You’re asking us to give you more cash? You never asked us, and you have taken on a contract with Mackenzie.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’d only be throwing good money after bad.’
‘By no means. Your only chance of getting your money back is by dealing with me. And indeed, going on lending to Edwardes & Ryan over the years to come.’
Winrow stared out the window. For some time, he said nothing.
‘And you expect us to lend to you on a contract we never discussed?’
‘I do. Because I know it will make money.’
‘Can you prove all this?’
‘Yes,’ Murtybeg said. ‘I can show you where the money is in the business, and show that Edwardes & Ryan need not be bankrupted. I can show you the Mackenzie contract, and the profits that will be made on it, both for Edwardes & Ryan – and the Manchester & Salford Bank. You may call it trading our way out of bankruptcy, and perhaps it is, but I can tell you Mr. Winrow, it will be to the gain of both parties.’
Winrow had a baffled look. Murtybeg knew that he wanted to believe what he had been telling him, but the question was – how convincing had he been?
At length, Winrow stood.
‘All very interesting, Mr. Ryan,’ he said. ‘The only one thing we need now, is proof of your assertions. Could you be as good perhaps as to get some figures together to show the existing situation of Edwardes & Ryan, and the way in which you propose to lead the business forward – as you put it – to the gain of both parties.’
When Murtybeg left the building, he felt light-headed. He walked down Mosley Street and across to St. Peter’s Square. He had not won, but he surely had not lost. He knew too that his discussions with Winrow would be reported to the board of directors of the bank. What then?
*
The next days were busy ones. He worked sixteen hour days, slogging his way through Balance Sheets, Profit & Loss accounts, Cash Flow projections, contract details and many other things. Irene worked alongside him, but still the hostility was there. After he had explained the details of his meeting with Winrow to her though, he suspected that she respected him more than she had done before.
They fought with each other constantly, agreeing and disagreeing on figures. Sometimes agreement only came through utter exhaustion.
When they were both satisfied with the figures, he sent a hand-delivered note to the Manchester & Salford Bank requesting a meeting.
He received a hand-delivered reply requesting his presence.
‘And it’s only me, they want,’ he said to Irene.
He saw the hostility in her eyes, but she conceded, this time at least. He wondered what the Manchester & Salford would make of her, when they finally met her.
His second meeting with the Manchester & Salford was a rough one. Apart from Winrow, three directors quizzed him endlessly on his figures. After two of the toughest hours of his life, they finally agreed to extend Edwardes & Ryan a new loan against the Mackenzie contract for £10,000, and £5,000 against other contracts. The North Staffordshire loan was extended for six months against the new Brassey contracts.
When he returned, Irene went through the figures again. He sensed that she was impressed with his ability. Through it all though, he could not shake off the feeling that she was being evasive.
*
One morning, the maid handed him a letter. He did not recognise the handwriting. He slit it open. The letter heading gave the name of Rothwells, a firm of solicitors. It was a long letter, with much detailed legal terminology, but from what Murtybeg could deduce, it stated that, since Danny had died intestate, his property, in toto, passed to his common-law wife.
Irene owned Edwardes & Ryan.
Chapter 5
Evening Post, New York. July 1848:
Immigrants. There arrived at New York during the month of June, from abroad, 23,047 passengers, of which were from Ireland 11,524; Germany 7,829; England, 2,331; Scotland 642; France, 216; Holland 347; Switzerland 235; Spain 17; Wales 125; South America 4; Italy 66; West Indies 60; Denmark 7; Norway 163; Sweden 11; Poland 9. The total number of immigrants arrived since the first of January is 85,782.
Breaking coal.
Day after day, there was the never-ending sound of the breaking and shovelling of coal. There was coal dust deep in his lungs, the taste of it on his tongue and in his nose; the prickly feel of it on his face and the dirty feel of it in his hair.
July was blazing hot. Luke was well used to shovelling rock and clay from his work on the English railways. There, he and the rest of the Farrelly gang could shift more tonnage every day than any gang on the railways; and earn more money with it. The only difference in shifting the dirty black anthracite coal was the raging July heat that burned New Jersey and New York as if in a furnace.
Luke noticed that Jack Kilgallon found it impossible to keep up with the other men. He was not used to this kind of brutal labour, and he was paid less than the others. Slowly though, his muscles built up, as he became accustomed to the savage heat.
Every day the anthracite came in barges down the Morris Canal to the terminal at Jersey City. When the barges were cleared, it was time to break the anthracite. This was done in a half open shed. Luke was grateful at least to get away from the searing rays of the sun. Smashing anthracite with sledgehammers was hard work too. Every hour a break was called for water. Luke was surprised that, despite the amount he drank, he never needed to piss. He didn’t think it was possible to sweat as much.
The older men were only paid half rate. Luke pitied them. They could pay very little rent. Perhaps there were shacks along the Morris Canal, in the same way as along the English railways. Not that Farrelly would ever have allowed that for his gang. He, Luke and the others had been the lords of English railway building.
The old men raked, using big rakes and small rakes, separating the smashed anthracite into two different grades. The smaller pieces were sacked, and carried to barges to cross the Hudson to Manhattan, or onto carts for distribution around Jersey City, Hoboken, Newark and other New Jersey cities. Larger pieces were sent by barge to ironworks further up the Hudson River.
The feebler old men crawled through the smashed anthracite, searching for ‘slate’ – rock mixed among the anthracite – which could explode with heat. Sometimes there would be none if the slate had been well picked out in the Pennsylvania mines.
Still, Luke knew that any of them were lucky to have a job. There were thousands out of work, right across New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Every day, he heard stories of hundreds of barges laid up, right along the Hudson river and the Erie Canal. Still, anthracite came down along the Morris Canal. Wages were low, but there were hundreds of men willing to take his place.
Seán Óg worked with Luke. He was one of the Tourmakeady men. He was a gentle fellow, slow of speech, but with a powerful build and a hard weather-beaten face. He had almost no knowledge of English.
‘There’s talk they’re breaking the anthracite by steam.’
Luke looked at him in surprise.
‘By steam?’
‘Up in the mines around Schuylkill. Lackan too, I understand.’
‘And you believe it?’
‘I do, it’s the God’s honest truth.’
‘Arra, will you stop being such an amadán. There’s no such thing.’
Jack came over.
‘Where did you hear this?’
‘One of the Galway fellows in the barges, he was on about it. Breakers, they call them. They do the work of a hundred men.’
When they went back to the anthracite breaking, Luke spoke to Jack about it.
‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Jack replied. ‘But one thing’s for certain, if they try breaking anthracite by steam, there’ll be no jobs for us down here.’
‘Arra, I wouldn’t worry. They’ll still be needing men to be shovelling it on and off the barges.’
‘Not if they use steam for that too.’
A few hours later, they were unloading from one of the barges. The bargeman sat on a bollard beside them.
‘One of our fellows was telling us something about breaking coal by steam,’ Luke said to him.
‘And so they do,’ the bargeman said.
‘It’s not a joke then?’
‘No joke. They’ve only got it running a year or two, but they do it alright.’
They walked back towards their lodgings that evening.
‘Sounds as if it’s real, this steam business’ Jack said.
‘Perhaps. We’ll find out soon enough, as soon as we go up to Lackan to meet the other fellows. There’s only one other thing that worries me though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If they can break coal by steam, they can dig it by steam too.’
Jack slapped his forehead.
‘I never thought of that.’
*
On the Saturday, work stopped early.
‘Only eight hours working!’ Jack said, ‘I’m not used to that.’
‘And not used to Sundays neither, not swinging a sledgehammer at all. We’ll be doing it in our sleep, I tell you.’