‘The mother of a dying child will surely thank you for that,’ said Nathan Brock so evenly that not one of his listeners could be certain he was being sarcastic. ‘But stop corn from being exported and have it distributed to those in need and she’ll give you her blessing, too.’
‘Supply me with facts and Parliament will have them,’ promised the MP.
To Father Clery he said, ‘I’ve changed my mind about staying, Matthew. I must go to London and get relief action under way immediately.’
Eugene Brennan turned to Liam. ‘Can you promise the support of your fellow-fishermen in helping to feed these poor people? I’ll call a meeting of the Association before I go and see what money can be raised toward the cost involved.’
‘It’s late in the year and there will be few fishing days during the next few months. Only the Feehans’ boat and my own can put to sea for most of the winter. But I’ll come to your meeting and speak to the fishermen myself. I can promise you they will not allow women and children to die if fish will keep them alive – and it will be given without payment.’
‘I wish our people were always as ready to solve the country’s problems,’ said Eugene Brennan despondently. ‘Will you come back to Kilmar and arrange a meeting for us, Matthew?’
Father Clery looked about him and wrung his hands helplessly. ‘I should stay here….’
‘You can pray for them as well from Kilmar,’ said Nathan Brock. ‘Organising a meeting to provide food is something no one else can do. I’ll stay here with them for tonight. Perhaps by the morning one or two of the women will be feeling stronger and can give me some help.’
‘I’ll stay here with you,’ said Kathie firmly. ‘And so will my father.’
‘The matter appears to be settled,’ said Eugene Brennan. ‘Now I think we should go. I am impatient to return to London and put this matter before the Prime Minister. I will not allow him to use death by starvation as a means of solving his government’s Irish problem.’
The hurriedly called All-Ireland Association meeting was held in the Kilmar ale-house late that same night. News of Eugene Brennan’s presence had travelled fast and the room was packed to capacity with many of the latecomers standing outside in the roadway, listening at the open windows to what was being said. A good speech was expected and their Member of Parliament did not disappoint them. He produced all the fire and forcefulness that some of his followers had secretly feared he had lost for ever. Eugene Brennan castigated a government that ruled from beyond the sea and allowed its people to die of starvation. The fiery politician promised his audience that, while he had breath left in his body, he would fight the injustice that allowed the Irish people to be treated as a conquered people.
One day, he said, their country would control her own destiny and not have to rely upon uncertain charity to keep their fellow countrymen and women alive. Then Eugene spoke of the plight of the cottiers, starving in the fields and hills around them. He begged the fishermen of Kilmar to help them in every way possible and called upon Liam to tell them of what he had seen.
Liam gave the grim details without embellishment, a fisherman talking to fishermen. He spoke of the skin-covered skeletons that were children. Of dried-up mothers holding dying babies to their emaciated breasts. Of those in pain, yet without the strength to cry. He spoke of shallow graves and unlettered crosses that were all the cottiers could look forward to at the end of their miserable lives.
As Liam spoke, the picture of the mean huts and their occupants rose before him to haunt him as it would for the remainder of his life – even though he would see far worse sights before the famine ended.
Every fisherman in Kilmar promised to contribute a portion of his catch. Tomas Feehan was one of them, even though he knew he and Liam would be expected to contribute more than the others.
‘You speak well,’ Eugene Brennan complimented Liam when the meeting ended. ‘You have simplicity and honesty, the very things a seasoned politician lacks. Would you come and speak at some of the public meetings I arrange in aid of the cottiers’ relief fund?’
‘Come where – to Dublin?’ Liam was startled by the suggestion; he had never travelled beyond the borders of County Wexford.
‘No – to London.’
When Liam was quite certain the MP was serious, he said, ‘Why would Englishmen want to listen to anything I have to say?’
‘Because you have first-hand knowledge of a tragedy that will make the headlines of every English newspaper before I am done. You tell them what you have just told the men of Kilmar and they will empty their pockets for you.’
Liam was far from convinced. ‘I’d probably get tongue-tied at seeing so many people I didn’t know and end up by making a fool of myself, and you.’
Eugene Brennan looked at Liam’s broad shoulders and dark good looks and thought of the women’s meetings at which he would introduce him. For a moment he had an uncharacteristic twinge of conscience. This innocent young fisherman would stand no chance against the sophisticated women of London. Quickly the MP pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind. The cottiers’ plight was desperate. He would raise money for them in every way possible.
‘Neither of us will look fools and you will be helping to save hundreds of lives. Can I take it that you will come?’
Liam sensed that he was being backed into a corner from which there was no escape. ‘But I’m a fisherman, not a speaker. I have a living to make.’
‘Me and Tommy Donaghue managed quite well while you were lying injured. We’d do it again. Anyway, there’s little enough fishing can be done in winter – you’ve said so yourself.’ Dermot had been listening to the conversation enviously. He wished such a chance would come his way.
‘We wouldn’t go out in normal times,’ agreed Liam. ‘But we’ll need to brave the weather if we are to feed hungry cottiers. No, Mr Brennan, I’ll be of more use to you staying here and catching fish rather than trying to do something that is best left to others.’
‘Come to London and you’ll bring in enough money to feed more cottiers than all the fishermen in Kilmar. You’ll come, Liam. You’ll come because the thought of all those starving people won’t allow you to do otherwise. But first I would like you to do something else for me. Go to Inch House and tell the Earl what you have seen. Say I asked you to call on him. If he could possibly provide work for a few of the cottier men, it would help.’
The thought of calling upon the greatest land-owner in this corner of County Wexford was almost as alarming as going to London, but Liam could hardly refuse.
‘Good man!’ Eugene Brennan clasped Liam’s hand warmly. ‘I think the cottiers might have found the champion they so desperately need. I will send for you to come to London just as soon as I have arranged a few meetings. In the meantime ask Nathan Brock to take you to visit more cottiers. It won’t be pleasant but it should convince you of the need to help them and give you facts to shock more money from the purses of the ladies of England. Now, if you will forgive me, I must go to Father Clery’s house and take some rest. I intend making an early start and I fear the excitement of the last few days is catching up with me.’
Walking home with Liam through the darkness, Dermot could not hide the envy he felt for his brother.
‘There must be half a million men in Ireland who would do anything for Eugene Brennan and he chooses you. Why, you’re not even a member of the Association.’
‘Perhaps that’s why he picked me,’ said Liam thoughtfully. ‘Eugene Brennan has just spent months in prison because he leads your association. That means it is not popular with the English Government. He needs someone from outside to help raise money for the cottiers. If he used one of you, he could be accused of trying to increase the Association’s popularity among the cottiers. Once labelled as a political move his relief fund would be doomed.’
Dermot did not fully follow Liam’s thinking, but he was acutely aware that, while his brother helped Eugene Brennan in England, the Association in Ireland w
ould be doing nothing. He became more determined than ever to do something to enhance the Association’s flagging prestige.
It needed to be a bold and imaginative scheme.
An action to prove to every Irishman that the Association had the strength and ability to carry their hopes for the future.
Chapter Eight
Walking between the high stone pillars at the entrance to Inch House, Liam was regretting his promise to visit the Earl of Inch on Eugene Brennan’s behalf and it came as a great relief to him when the lodge-keeper informed him that the Earl was away.
‘You won’t find his Lordship at home very often,’ the man volunteered. ‘Things is much more exciting in those foreign parts. Why, I remember when I was in France with the Duke of Wellington—’
Liam hastily interrupted the man’s reminiscing. He had no wish to be treated to the campaign experiences of a garrulous lodge-keeper.
‘Who is in charge of the estate in the absence of the Earl?’
‘Ah now! Had you asked me that a week ago I could have told you straight away. It would have been his estate manager. But he’s gone now … dismissed. And not before time, either. Living better than the Earl himself, he was. I suppose the person in charge now would be Lady Caroline, his Lordship’s sister.’
‘Then I will go and see her,’ said Liam impatiently.
‘I’m not so sure I should let you go up to the Great House,’ said the lodge-keeper, gnawing his lip in an agony of indecision. ‘The last thing his Lordship said to me was that no one was to go up to the house I wasn’t sure about. “There’s a lot of good-for-nothing beggars about”, he said. Not that I’m saying you’re a beggar,’ the lodge-keeper hastened to add as he saw Liam’s chin go up. ‘I can see that plain enough, but I don’t know you, and I have a job to do.’
‘I was asked to call on the Earl by Eugene Brennan,’ said Liam, with far more patience than he felt.
‘I don’t know no Eugene Brennan. I’m not sure his Lordship does,’ said the lodge-keeper ponderously. ‘He certainly hasn’t come visiting through these gates.’
‘Then I expect they met in Dublin, or London. Eugene Brennan is the Member of Parliament for County Wexford.’
‘Is he, now? Ah, then that must be where they’ve met. His Lordship is often across in London, at the House of Lords. Are you a friend of this Mr Brennan?’ He looked curiously at Liam’s rough-cut Sunday-best serge suit.
‘No—but it doesn’t matter. I’ll go up to the house and make my explanations to Lady Caroline.’
‘Just a minute! I’ll come up there with you.’ The lodge-keeper was offended. ‘It’s not that I’m trying to keep you out, but I have a responsibility here, you know.’
Liam said nothing and set off along the treed driveway. The lodge-keeper, struggling into his coat, caught up with him a hundred yards farther on.
The great house was a truly magnificent building, and Liam counted no fewer than forty-two windows at the front of the house alone. There were terraced lawns, each separated from the other by a stone balustrade, and a profusion of shrubs and trees such as Liam had never seen before. For a few moments, Liam was in danger of being completely over-awed by such magnificence. Then he remembered the hovels of the dying cottiers, only a few miles away, and his mood changed. The owner of this house could afford to save the lives of many of the cottiers who would otherwise die.
As the two men approached the house the path divided, and here the lodge-keeper was faced with another dilemma. He was not sure whether he ought to take Liam to the front entrance, or guide him to the tradesmen’s entrance at the rear of the house. After two or three surreptitious glances at the fisherman’s clothes, the lodge-keeper decided that the rear door would be more appropriate and turning off the main drive he led Liam along a wide path that went past the stables.
Once inside the house, Liam was subjected to more questioning, this time by a haughty English butler who made it plain he thought Liam had no right to be in the house at all. Only when the butler began to question Liam about his business with the Earl did Liam show annoyance. He curtly informed the butler that his business was between Eugene Brennan and the Earl of Inch himself. Since he was not in the house, Liam would pass his message on to the Earl’s sister – and to no one else.
Liam was left standing in the servants’ hall while the head servant went off to find Lady Caroline. He returned with the news that the Earl’s sister would see Liam in the library.
Liam was shown to a magnificent room, two walls of which were filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of leather-bound books. To Liam, the sight was more impressive than his first view of the house itself. Liam had an insatiable appetite for reading, but beyond the family bible and the few dozen ragged books in Father Clery’s house there had been little opportunity to satisfy his hunger. He quickly took in the leather-covered chairs in the room, the polished cabinets and the heavy logs burning in the grate on the dog-headed andiron, but once more his attention returned to the books.
Finally, plucking up the courage to take down one of the books from the shelf, Liam chose Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress and so deeply engrossed did he become in the classic that he did not hear the door open softly behind him.
Lady Caroline Dudley was a woman of about Liam’s own age. Tall, slim and blonde, she wore her long hair drawn up on her head, the style showing off to great effect the lines of her delicate features.
‘I see you are a great reader, Mr McCabe.’ Her voice was softened by just the trace of an Irish accent, and at the sound of it Liam swung around guiltily.
‘I – I – I’m sorry,’ he stuttered. ‘I don’t see many books.’
Liam tried to replace the book without taking his eyes from Lady Caroline. He had been thrown completely off balance by her appearance. If he had thought about the Earl’s sister at all, it had been of a vague elderly woman. He was not prepared for a confrontation with someone who was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life and who now stood smiling in gentle amusement at his confusion.
‘There is no need to apologise; the books are here to be read – though I doubt whether Edward, my brother, ever takes one from the shelves. Here, allow me.’
Liam’s clumsy fumbling had caused the book to drop to the floor, and Lady Caroline bent down to pick it up as Liam did the same. Their head brushed together briefly, and Liam caught the delicate scent of her perfume.
She laughed and, placing the book in its place, crossed the room and sat down in a wide-armed easy-chair, inviting Liam to sit down opposite her.
‘I believe you have a message from Eugene Brennan for my brother? If you care to give it to me, I will ensure it is passed on to him.’
Hesitantly at first, still over-awed by the young woman who sat watching him intently, Liam told his hostess of the potato famine and of the things he had witnessed in the huts of the cottiers. As he told of the misery of the women and children his voice gained in strength and conviction. He forgot the Earl’s sister, the tapestries and pictures in the room, the walls of magnificent books. He was carried back to the mud-floored hovels, looking down at living skeletons lying on beds of stinking rags.
When he stopped talking, a heavy silence hung in the room for a long time.
‘The whole thing is quite unbelievable,’ whispered Lady Caroline at last, ‘Are you telling me this state of affairs exists only a few miles away from this house?’
‘The potato famine has hit the whole of Ireland. I doubt whether you could travel anywhere in the country without meeting with starving cottiers. We have hundreds of beggars in Kilmar and I’ve heard there are mobs of a thousand strong scouring the countryside farther inland.’
Lady Caroline stood up abruptly and looked down at Liam. ‘What is your interest with the cottiers?’
‘Only that of a man who has seen their misery at first hand. I believe they have a right to live and I’m prepared to do my best to see that it is given to them. Eugene Brennan wants me to
go to London to help him raise money for the fund he is setting up.’
‘You are going?’
Liam nodded, although he had not been sure until this moment.
‘How did Eugene Brennan think my brother might help?’
‘He suggested the Earl might find work for some of the cottiers on his estate.’
‘I see.’ Lady Caroline began pacing the room with long boyish strides as she thought.
‘Edward has been talking of having a wall built all the way around the estate. I think now would be a good time to have it done.’
She stopped in front of Liam. ‘It might also be the right time to build a house on the few hundred acres of the estate belonging to me. Can you send word to the cottiers that Work is to be had here?’
‘Yes. There is a man who seems to know where every cottier is to be found. I’ll tell him.’
‘Good. Work can start immediately. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, Mr McCabe – but what is your Christian name?’
‘Liam.’
He was not sure whether he should call her ‘Ma’am’, or perhaps ‘My lady’, so he used no form of address, even though it made his words sound more abrupt than he would have wished.
‘Liam McCabe.’ She said it as though she was thinking aloud. ‘It is a good name. How do you earn your living, Liam?’
‘I’m a fisherman. I own a wooden boat.’
He immediately wished he had said nothing about his boat. Among Irish fisherman, to say he owned a wooden boat would immediately have raised him above his fellows, made him a man of substance and standing. Here, in such opulent surroundings, it sounded childish and foolish.
‘Really? Surely that is most unusual in this area? I thought fishermen still use curraghs.’ To Liam’s surprise Lady Caroline seemed to know a great deal about fishing. She also knew a great deal about Ireland and asked Liam many questions about Kilmar and life in the surrounding countryside.
At one stage during their conversation Lady Caroline rang the bell and requested the butler to bring a whiskey for Liam. The fisherman saw the shock on the servant’s face at the thought of serving him with the Earl’s whiskey. But the butler was careful to conceal his feelings from Lady Caroline and the drink was duly produced.
The Music Makers Page 7