‘Is there anything that can be done for him?’ Kathie felt guilty for not thinking about the boy before. She had been trying to forget everything that had happened on that night, and could not think about Jeremy without remembering.
‘That depends on whether or not the trial has already been held. We’ll need to go to Rathconard to find out.’
Nathan Brock made a frustrated gesture. ‘I’ll need your help, Liam. I daren’t show myself there or I will end up in prison myself.’
‘Then we must get down there right away.’
‘But you have only just arrived,’ protested Kathie. ‘Will you return here after you have been to Rathconard?’
‘Will I be able to persuade you and Dermot to come home to Kilmar with us?’
‘No, Liam. It is too late for that.’
‘Then there is little sense in returning. I came to check on the rumours we heard in Kilmar. I have seen for myself that you and Dermot are well. I would be happier if I left you both in better company, but I doubt whether your “army” will stay long enough for Dermot to do anything foolish.’
When Dermot heard the two men were leaving he added his protests to Kathie’s, but he was secretly relieved. His older brother had an uncomfortable habit of applying commonsense rules to Dermot’s ideas. He had also seen Kathie and Liam talking when he had been called away to discipline his men. Even from that distance he could see that Kathie was close to tears. No, he was not sorry that Liam would not be staying.
‘At least you will be able to tell the men of Kilmar that their sons are leading the army of Ireland,’ said Dermot as he said his farewells to Liam. ‘They will be officers, every one of them.’
‘And don’t forget to tell them about Eoin Feehan,’ said one of the Kilmar fishermen. ‘Make sure they know how he had his own brother killed.’
‘How about you, Kathie? Do you have any message for your father?’
‘Tell him I am well … and happy. I pray for him – tell him that, too.’
‘I hope Kathie prays for Ireland at the same time,’ commented Nathan Brock as they walked away through the forest. ‘She will need to if Dermot’s army ever goes on the march. There can seldom have been such a gathering of villains and cut-throats outside of Dublin Jail.’
‘I wish Kathie and Dermot were out of the whole business. No good can come from it at all.’
The two friends arrived at Rathconard early in the evening. The army encampment was much larger now and would need to expand even farther to accommodate the militiamen from Belfast who had arrived that afternoon to help in the search for Dermot and his men. For them it would be an uneasy camp. Dismissed by the English soldiers as ‘Irishmen’, they were hated by the local population for their Protestant background and their brutal record in putting down earlier uprisings.
Nathan Brock waited on the slopes above the town, well clear of both townsmen and soldiers, while Liam made his way to the small lock-up behind the church in Rathconard. He spent his time observing the activity within the military encampment. With the exception of the cavalry whose horses and tents were tethered in neat lines, the camp was a shambles. The militia appeared to have no tents at all and were preparing to spend the night in the open.
But, confusion and disorganisation apart, Nathan Brock estimated the Army must have gathered at least seven hundred men at Rathconard. Dermot had about one hundred poorly armed men up in the mountains. He hoped Dermot would not be in too much of a hurry to force a battle between the two ill-matched forces.
Liam returned from Rathconard at dusk with grim news of Nathan’s young friend.
‘The trial is already ended. It took place in Dublin two days ago.’
‘And the sentence …?’
‘Transportation … for life.’
Nathan Brock expelled air noisily through his teeth. ‘That’s fierce. Who told you? Could there be any mistake?’
‘None. The constable told me himself. He gave evidence at the trial and was more than happy to talk about it. He said the judge called Jeremy an incorrigible thief and told him he regretted that misguided reform prevented him from passing the death sentence on him.’
‘A judge of Assize said that to an orphan boy of eleven? Is that what the law is about?’
Nathan Brock was angrier than Liam had ever seen him. ‘There was no one to speak up for Jeremy, of course? No one to tell the court how he has had to steal in order to live? Damn the judge and his law. God, Liam! When is someone going to do something for the people of our country? Will there ever be a time when our children don’t have to steal and our women don’t have to beg in order to stay alive?’
Liam knew that, because he had asked Jeremy to stay behind, Nathan Brock felt responsible for Jeremy’s present desperate situation and he tried to give him some comfort.
‘You can’t blame yourself, Nathan. The boy has been running with thieves all his life. He knew no other way.’
‘There is little hope of teaching him different now. He’ll learn many things on the transport to Australia, but honesty and decency won’t be among them.’
Nathan Brock ceased his angry pacing. ‘Did the constable know when Jeremy was being transported?’
‘Not for a week or two. Until then he is being held in Kilmainham Jail, in Dublin.’
‘Then I’m for Dublin to see him. Are you with me, Liam?’
‘Of course, and if Eugene Brennan is in Dublin we’ll ask his advice on how best to help the boy.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The walk to Dublin took Liam and Nathan Brock two days and they were almost too late. A transport had unexpectedly put into Dublin Bay to take on board all prisoners bound for the colonies. Those held in Kilmainham Jail were already being manacled with heavy chains, and at first the jailer told Nathan Brock it would not be possible to see Jeremy. When a half-sovereign changed hands, the jailer’s attitude softened and he said he would have Jeremy brought to them.
They heard the clanking of the heavy chains long before Jeremy shuffled into the barred room, manacled hand and foot.
The boy’s eyes filled with tears when he saw Nathan Brock.
‘I wish you hadn’t come here, Nathan,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want for you to see me like this.’
This was a different lad from the cheeky youngster with a ready smile who had helped Nathan Brock to search for his family. Jeremy looked unhealthy and dejected. Prison was not a good place for a young boy.
‘We couldn’t allow you to sail away to a new life in Australia without coming to wish you luck,’ said Nathan Brock softly. ‘Are they treating you well enough, Jeremy?’
‘I’m all right,’ Jeremy mumbled, not trusting himself to look at the big man.
‘Everyone from the Wicklow mountains send their thanks,’ said Liam when he was sure the jailer who had escorted the boy was out of hearing. ‘The soldiers carried out their attack but caught nobody.’
‘Is Kathie all right?’ For the first time since he had been brought to the room, Jeremy lost his apathy. ‘She wasn’t hurt bad?’
Liam was puzzled, ‘No. As I said, they were ready for the soldiers. No one was hurt.’
‘I don’t mean then. I’m talking about the night Kathie came down to see me. The constable arrested a man for being drunk and threw him in the cell with me. When he sobered up in the morning he told me he had been drinking on his own just outside the town when he saw some soldiers drag a woman off into the bushes. There was another man with them who wasn’t a soldier and they all had her. Afterwards they went away and this drunk thought they’d killed her, but then she got up and went away toward the mountains. It was Kathie. I know it was.’
‘So that’s it,’ Liam whispered. Now so many things became clear. He went cold when he thought about Kathie’s agony of mind at being raped. Her life had been a hard one and she owned nothing but her pride – and her body. Liam had often heard Tommy Donaghue say that Kathie’s proudest boast was that, even if she was able to offer her future husband
nothing else, she would give him a body that no other man had known. When the soldiers had taken that from her they had taken everything.
Liam wondered about the other man with the soldiers. Could it have been Eoin Feehan? He remembered the early incident on the quay at Kilmar. But he dismissed the thought. It was too easy to see Eoin Feehan’s hand in every evil deed. Whoever it was, he and the soldiers had tapped a source of hatred that might well consume a great many lives before it ran its course.
‘Is she all right?’ Jeremy was looking at him anxiously.
‘Yes, she’s all right. She has someone to look after her now. She married my brother.’
Liam wished he could believe his own words. Kathie was a strong character; she would lead the Kilmar group, through Dermot, and her decisions were bound to be coloured by her hatred of English soldiers. They would not always be wise ones.
But Liam’s reply satisfied Jeremy, and the boy managed a weak smile. ‘I’m glad. She was good to me and I’ve been worrying about her.’
‘How have you been keeping? Are the other prisoners looking after you?’ asked Nathan Brock.
‘They’re all right,’ Jeremy answered with a nonchalant lift of his thin shoulders.
‘Is there anything you need? Anything we can get for you?’
Nathan Brock asked the questions quickly as he heard voices coming closer along the corridor outside, but before Jeremy could answer the jailer came in the room.
‘That’s as much time as you can have. The prisoners have to be taken out to the transport now.’
‘Take care, Jeremy. Get word to me if you can. And keep out of trouble.’
Jeremy nodded, blinking rapidly and not trusting himself to speak. He turned to go, the heavy chains dragging on the stone floor. Suddenly he turned back again, almost falling as the chains took him off balance. Nathan Brock caught him, and the next moment Jeremy was sobbing against his shoulder.
A lump rose in Liam’s throat, and even the jailer was moved to sympathy. He waited until the sobbing had died away to a shuddering fight for breath before he spoke again.
‘It’s time the boy was going, sir. They are all waiting for him.’
Nathan Brock nodded and, squeezing Jeremy’s shoulders painfully, he held him at arm’s length and said huskily, ‘Take care of yourself, boy – and practise that right hook I showed you. One day you’ll be the champion of Australia.’
Snuffling noisily, Jeremy rubbed his nose vigorously with the sleeve of his coarse shirt. ‘I … I’ll never be as … as good as you, Nathan….’
The jailer touched Jeremy’s arm and he turned away as the jailer turned to Nathan Brock.
‘He’ll be all right, sir. Don’t you worry. These transports aren’t nearly as bad as they were a few years ago.’
Not until he and Liam were outside the jail did Nathan Brock trust himself to speak, and then he said fiercely, ‘Things can have changed as much as they like; it will still be hell on that ship for a young boy … but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.’
The plight of Jeremy had made a profound impression upon Liam and he thought about it as they walked away from the high grey walls.
‘We’ll go to see Eugene Brennan now. If he will write a letter to the captain of the transport, I have five guineas to go with it. That should ensure the voyage to Australia will be as comfortable for Jeremy as it can be in the circumstances.’
‘Then let’s not delay,’ said Nathan Brock. ‘If Eugene will write a note, I will hire a boat and get out to the transport if I have to row halfway to Australia to catch her.’
Fortunately, Eugene Brennan was at home and he agreed to write a note to the captain of the transport, even though he was busy preparing to leave for London within an hour. He headed the note ‘The House of Commons’ and requested that Jeremy be provided with all the privileges it was possible to give a prisoner and, in view of the boy’s age, he asked the captain to keep him away from the ‘ruffianly inmates’ of the convict ship.
When the MP had signed the letter he handed it to Nathan Brock with the comment, ‘I trust for the boy’s sake that the captain is an Irishman and not a politically minded Englishman. There are those who would do me no favours, even though my request is backed by good gold.’
‘I’ll make some enquiries before handing the letter over,’ promised Nathan Brock. ‘Now I must hurry before the boat sails.’
‘Nathan Brock is a good man to have as a friend,’ said Eugene Brennan when the ex-prizefighter had hurried away.
‘He thinks a lot of the boy – and so should every man and woman in Kilmar. Without his aid my brother and his friends would be dead now. I wish there was more we might do to help him. It is not right that a boy of eleven years of age should be transported for life, Eugene. There must be other ways of dealing with him – of helping him.’
‘My boy, if you are bent on judicial reform, then you’ll need to be in Parliament in order to achieve anything.’
‘You’ve been there enough years, Eugene. Why haven’t you done something?’
‘If I were to try to right all the wrongs in this land, I would need to have more years than Methuselah. As it is, I am almost seventy years of age and lack the fire for new causes. You are young enough to fight for Ireland and couple it with any other crusade you wish. Do it, Liam. Come to Parliament and help me in my last years and I promise you at least forty votes for any bill on penal reform you care to introduce.’
Liam felt the stirrings of excitement within him. Was it really as easy as this to change the laws of the land? Could he, an ordinary fisherman, be elected to Parliament by the people of Ireland and influence the destiny of his own country? He remembered how long Eugene Brennan had been unsuccessfully campaigning for an end to Ireland’s strangling union with England and knew changes did not come so easily. Nevertheless, Eugene Brennan had achieved much for his people. There was much that he, too, might do.
‘Do you really think I could become a Member of Parliament, Eugene?’
The wily old politician knew he had won this particular battle. The idea had been put in Liam’s mind some time before. Now he had dangled a bait before the fisherman and it had been taken without a fight.
‘First you will need to join the All-Ireland Association. I can enrol you here and now if you wish. Then you will have to come to a few meetings with me when I return to Ireland. Perhaps you can give a short talk – about the effects of the famine in your own area, if you like. You’ve done that before. Then we will put your name forward as a candidate when an Irish parliamentary seat falls vacant. At the moment there are two such vacancies, both on the west coast. Can I count on you standing for us when a by-election is called?’
Liam made a pretence of thinking about the matter for a minute or two, but he had made up his mind soon after learning from Caroline that Eugene Brennan wanted him in Parliament.
‘Yes, I’ll stand for Parliament, but I will need time to arrange for my boat to be fished in Kilmar.’ Liam grinned, excited at the thought of the changes in his life such a step would bring. ‘My mother will need to be convinced that I’m doing the right thing, but you have my word, Eugene.’
‘Splendid! Absolutely splendid!’
Eugene Brennan shook Liam’s hand vigorously. ‘I knew you would agree once you had thought about it. We should really have a drink to celebrate this occasion, but if I don’t rush I will miss the boat to Liverpool and a chance to vote against Peel’s latest Irish Bill. He’s trying to put the whole of Ireland under martial law. If he can be defeated, it will mean a Whig government and one more sympathetic to our people. These are exciting times in Parliament, Liam. Hurry and settle your affairs in Kilmar and then return to me here. I have need of you. Our relief works are going well but I am still receiving almost daily reports of starving cottiers – especially from the west coast. I need someone to check on the truth of them. It would be a good opportunity for you to learn something about your future constituents.’
; Eugene Brennan shook Liam’s hand yet again. ‘You don’t know how happy you’ve made me. For many years now I have been haunted by the thought that when I die the All-Ireland Association and all it stands for will die with me. Now I feel my life’s work will live on. Bless you, my boy. We’ll win freedom for Ireland yet. I won’t see it, but I hope that you or your children will.’
Liam allowed himself to be enrolled as a member of the All-Ireland Association and for another half an hour listened to Eugene Brennan’s chatter about his hopes and fears for the future, as they rode to the docks.
There were rumours, the MP said, that many of the new season’s potatoes were already diseased when they went into the ground. If this proved to be true, it meant that much of this year’s crop would also be lost. It boded ill, even though Liam was able to report that the growing crops he had seen between the Wicklow mountains and Dublin looked green and healthy.
The MP was the last passenger to embark, and the ship’s captain paced the deck impatiently while he and his luggage came up the gangway. Seconds later the gangway was pulled away and the mooring-ropes unlooped from the iron bollards on the quayside. Thrashing the water between ship and shore to a frenzy with its heavy paddle-wheels, the steamer moved slowly away. Before it was out of hailing distance, Eugene Brennan called to Liam that he would be writing from London.
While he awaited Nathan Brock’s return from his trip to the departing transport, Liam thought much about the changes that being an MP would make to him. They were not all to his liking. As a fisherman he had always been his own man. As an MP he would be answerable to the men who voted for him. He wondered whether he might be able to do anything to help Dermot and the Kilmar fishermen exiled to the Wicklow mountains. Perhaps arrange an amnesty for them?
He thought, too, of Caroline. What would she say? He had no doubt she would be delighted.
He was still thinking about the matter when Nathan Brock returned, well pleased as a result of his trip to the Australia-bound transport.
The Music Makers Page 26