“How so? I’ve bin here eighteen years and nothin’s changed much. Well, yes we’ve had a new land owner, but we never see him. This one changed a lot of things through his agent, but we never had the cottier system round here anyway, everyone worked fer the estate.”
“It was different in Mayo. In Killala people rented their own bit of land. That’s why they were so hard hit when the potato crops failed.”
“And why there’s bin uprisings ever since,” broke in Keva bitterly. “But how can ordinary folk take on the might of those that have got the power? I know I tried it meself along with others, but I was left a broken man.”
Both Jack and Jimmy looked in surprise at Keva, but the man continued. Seemingly the whisky had loosened his tongue.
“I was one of those at the battle of Widow McCormicks. Jimmy here knows all about it, as his son Danny was there as well. Where did they send him, Jimmy? Australia. A boy of barely sixteen. Me, they banged up in Dublin Jail for a year or so. I wasn’t one of the main players, though they brought in people who said I was. But I maintained I was passin’ by with a delivery and just got caught up with all the fightin’, and my employer kept sayin’ that that was so. I’m no hero anyway, I left that to the likes of O’Brien and Meagher, but I couldn’t stand by and see all those half starved people when Ireland was exportin’ food, instead of feedin’ their own.”
“It’s best ter keep yer head down, Keva. I’ve told yer that before. Get on with yer life and leave the rebellion to the youngsters. Nothing will change in Ireland, because of the system that we have here.”
“It’s a system that needs changing though,” said Jack, heartily sorry for the landlord who seemed to have accepted that he would never see his son again. At least Mikey was in a peaceful place with his regiment in India, so they knew they would see him again one day.
“Yes and it will be changed by these young Fenians that are causin’ mayhem at the moment in all corners of Ireland,” Keva continued, passing his glass over to Jimmy for another refill. “The government will listen when disruption is caused to their railways and telegraph links and when the Fenian Army arrives from America.”
“So that was what the fundraisin’ was all about when I lived in America. To help recruit an army to send over here?”
“Well, yes and to raise the money to send arms across. There was quite a surplus of guns ter be had after the American War.”
Keva suddenly turned around and looked over to the kitchen doorway. He lowered his voice, asking Jimmy, were there still folk around?
“There are spies everywhere,” he said dramatically. “Government spies. The man yer thought was yer friend could be one. Who’s in the kitchen, Jimmy? Yer wife? You, Jack. What side would you be on, now that you’ve abandoned yer homeland for the enemies’? What are you doin’ in Ireland, I’d like ter know?”
“Come on now, Keva,” remonstrated Jimmy, as he could see Jack sitting there looking embarrassed. “You’ve had enough ter drink fer one evening. This man is employing you to drive him and his family to their destination. And I’m sure he’ll be payin’ yer well.”
“No, I’ll answer his question, Jimmy. Yes, I am a Fenian sympathiser, Keva. Wouldn’t anyone be who had ter leave their homeland ‘cos of the famine and no help offered from those who rented yer the land? But I’ve done with fighting. I was a pugilist fer many years, earned me livin’ at it and when I was in America I gave towards the fund. But me rule in life is to never get involved in politics. Nor join in discussions about religion or the Queen. I’m just thankful that I can go about me business back in England, without lookin’ over me shoulder fearfully all the time. And Keva, I’m certainly not a government spy, I believe in freedom fer everyone.”
“Sure I was just testin’ yer, Mister. Sorry, Jimmy’s right. Too much of the nectar. I’ll say goodnight and bed down over there.” And Keva lurched unsteadily to the mattress that Mrs. Naylor had earlier put down.
The drizzly rain set all hearts plummeting the next morning, as the carriage continued on towards Ballaghadreen. The scenery was one of desolation, with mile upon mile of peat bog and open moor. The small hamlets they passed through were deserted. Grass and weeds grew entangled around dilapidated cabin doors. The carriage moved slowly with Keva hunched over the reins, as he suffered from a dizzy head, each pot hole in the road causing him to wince with sudden pain. Rebel ambled with his head down, only making an effort if his master’s whip reminded him of what he was there to do. Both human and animal were saturated, neither with adequate covering to keep out the very wetting rain. Not so his passengers, nor the remaining parcels. The Haineses were snug inside beneath a blanket, a tarpaulin covered the trunk and Keva’s precious goods.
Conversation inside the carriage was scant. Jack was feeling bilious having overdosed on the local brew. Hannah felt similar, although not for the same reason and Maggie wished she was back in Neston. There were so many things she wanted to do back home. Home. She had spent more years of her life in England than she had in this country, Ireland, the place that she had always thought of as home. It came to her then that it wasn’t; it was just the place where she was born. It was situation and circumstance that decreed she was to grow up in Killala. The elder daughter of cottiers, she had known what it was like to be poor. But now, thanks to Miss Rosemary she was wealthy and making this trip back to Ireland seemed somehow all wrong. What was she going to find when they reached their little hamlet? Her mother, friends and sister would all be gone. It was dragging up the past for no good reason, better if they had stayed in Llandudno with its genteel buildings and golden sands.
The carriage suddenly lurched and juddered and the occupants were thrown onto the floor. Rebel neighed indignantly at whatever had caused his delay.
“What’s going on?” shouted Jack angrily, as he picked himself up and helped Maggie and Hannah up again. He craned his neck through the window to find himself staring into the barrel of a well-polished rifle.
“Good morning, Sir, Ladies. Sorry to have to inconvenience you on your travels, but I would like you to disembark from your carriage while we carry out a search.”
Two soldiers, their helmets and capes running with water from the continuing rain, sat astride their horses beside the carriage. Keva had jumped down in terror and was waiting for his chance to run, but the soldier who hadn’t spoken yet had his rifle trained on him.
“We have information that weapons are being transported along this route, so our orders are to stop all vehicles that pass along this way.”
“So that gives yer leave ter stop law-abiding citizens and search their possessions. Is that what yer tellin’ me?”
“Look Sir, we can do this politely or we can cause offence. You choose. But I insist you get down from the carriage, though we will allow the ladies to sit out of the rain. You, driver, get up aloft and start handing down whatever is under that cover.”
Keva rushed to do as he was ordered. First the trunk was passed down to Jack and then the three oddly-shaped parcels; one a bolt of fabric for a farmer’s wife, another a replacement head for a pitchfork and the third a shiny large kettle. The soldiers grunted their apologies after searching through their trunk and told Keva to be quick about reloading and to get the carriage on its way.
Throughout this, Maggie sat with Hannah, silently fuming. The indignity of having to show the contents of their luggage, especially her and Hannah’s underwear, was an unwelcome intrusion into their lives. She could feel the familiar red mist starting to appear in front of her eyes. She began to get up from her seat, gathering the folds of her skirt to her so that she could easily manage to jump down, but Jack put his hand up to stop her. He knew what Maggie could be like when her temper was aroused.
“We’re to go on our way now, Maggie. Isn’t that so, Lieutenant? I’ll just help the driver to reload his parcels, then we’ll be on our way m’dear.”
The soldiers saluted and rode off back towards Longford, leaving the two men to heave the
trunk and parcels back on top of the carriage again. Rebel had welcomed the break from his journey, contentedly chewing on a clump of grass at the side of the road.
“A good job they didn’t climb up to have a proper look,” whispered Keva. “Or stop us before we got ter Longford. That package I delivered while yer were havin’ yer lunch had a couple of rifles in it and there’s one under the blanket destined fer a Brother in Mayo. Sure, there’s a box of ammunition too. It’s no good havin’ a rifle, if you’ve nothing in it ter fire.”
Jack’s face went crimson. Here was the man putting them all in danger, just for the sake of his bloody cause. He balled his fists, his temper matching the one before of Maggie’s.
“How dare you put us all at risk, yer bloody fool. What would have happened if the soldiers had bin more thorough? You’d have had us all hauled to a magistrate before nightfall. If it wasn’t for the sake of me family, I’d knock yer senseless. Now, drive on ter the next town or village and we’ll find someone else ter take us the rest of the way.”
Jack climbed back into the carriage beside Maggie, trembling from head to foot at the thought of what could have happened to them all. Maggie had calmed down, though looked very grim. She had heard some of what Jack had said but didn’t dare mention it, as Hannah’s eyes were full of concern. She accepted the hip flask that Jack had shakily drank from then passed on to her. The contents were fiery, but it seemed to help in calming her down.
“Papa,” Hannah began unhappily, “I wish we hadn’t come to Ireland. It’s a frightening place. I wish I was back at home.”
Maggie put her arm around her comfortingly.
“I’m sure we both agree with yer that we’d be much safer back at home. The problem is, we haven’t much in the way of choices. Though I think it would be safer, Jack, if we sail back from Sligo, rather than return overland.”
“It’s sorry that I am to have brought yer. I was taking this as a chance fer Hannah to see where we came from and do a little business along the way. Still, we can’t be very far now from Ballaghadereen, I’ve just seen some women gathering peat blocks for their fires.”
Craning their necks through the window brought them untold relief. At least this village was inhabited. Alongside the road was a fast-flowing river, and Jack swore he could see salmon leaping up the craggy rocks towards the hill side. The carriage drew up beside a row of poorly-constructed cottages, the more substantial one in the middle being the tavern, where they were to stop to rest the horse and let him drink his fill. It was time for Jack to make a decision. He disappeared with Keva, leaving Maggie and Hannah to stretch their legs by the riverside.
The mist began to lift as the two women stood by the river, and soon a spot of blue could be seen in the cloudy sky. They wandered a little, pointing excitedly if they saw a flash of silver in the frothy water, glad of their warm clothing against the morning chill.
“Hey up,” shouted Jack from the tavern entrance. “Do yer want to come in where it’s warm or drink this in the carriage?”
He was carrying two cups of tea on an old tin tray. There was no sign of Keva.
“We’ll sit in the carriage,” replied Maggie. “Here, Hannah, you go ahead with these. I want to speak to yer father.”
When Hannah was out of earshot, Maggie asked what had been going on when they had been stopped by the soldiers. It was as she had suspected. Keva had been gun running, using his passengers as a cover, and posing as a delivery man.
“So, what can we do, Jack?” asked Maggie, a little fearfully. “We’re taking a risk by travelling with him, what if some soldiers stop us again?”
“Keva says t’would be foolish to be rid of him now, though he’s mortally sorry that we got caught up with it all. We can make Foxford by nightfall, then he’ll leave us ter make our own way. We’ll find somewhere to rest fer the night, then we’ll ask around to see if anyone is travelling beyond.”
“Well, all I can say is that I’ll be glad when we manage ter get there and all of us in one piece. Why I let yer talk me into this Jack, I just don’t know. I should have been like yer mother and stayed in the country we’ve got used to. I’m beginning to think there’s no sense in looking into the past.”
The rest of the day was uneventful. The landscape became one of open moor, peat bogs and distant forest covered hills. Small streams meandered beside the roadside or loughs glistened with the rays of the afternoon sun. Except for the occasional cottage, there was no sign of habitation along their way. Maggie and Hannah dozed; they had slept fitfully the night before, not used to the proximity of sharing the double bed. Jack tried to nap; he felt exhausted. The bench that he had tried to sleep on at the tavern had been narrow and he had been wary of landing on the floor. And Keva, only a foot from him, had been open-mouthed and snoring. If Jack had been given a pillow, he would have smothered Keva, he was sure!
The carriage seemed to be slowing and, with a jolt, stopped as it had done so before. The road had become narrow, the tree branches overhanging creating a dark and sinister tunnel where no sun could be let in through the leaves. As a family the occupants groaned. What was the delay this time? Not more soldiers they hoped. Jack and Maggie exchanged glances. Would they find the guns that were hidden this time?
Keva was shouting something in Gaelic, then stopped as he was hauled from his perch above. A mighty thwack was heard and he cried out with pain. Jack flung himself out of the carriage to offer his help if he could. Maggie and Hannah hugged each other in silent fear, while Maggie fingered her rosary, surprised that she had slipped it unconsciously from around her wrist.
It seemed that Jack too had been rendered speechless, as there was no warning for the women when two dirty tattered brigands leapt in from either side, with cudgels in their hands. Hannah became hysterical, screaming for her father, while Maggie sought to bravely push them off, as the men tried to drag them from the carriage. They were hauled unmercifully to their feet then thrown into a muddy ditch, where they sat for a few minutes, stunned.
From there they could see what had happened. Both Keva and Jack were nursing sore heads, while their attackers were picking through the contents of the trunk, that they had thrown down from the roof rack above.
Keva shouted again in Gaelic, clutching his head as he spoke, but whatever he said it stopped the men from their looting and, surprised, they turned to listen to him. One of the men then pointed to above the carriage, then grabbing a still-reeling Keva, shoved him against the side of the now-trembling horse and urged him to climb back up into his seat again. That done, the men hoisted Jack to his feet, then kicked the back of his knees so he stumbled into the ditch beside his horrified wife and daughter. Two minutes later the carriage was gone, the men shouting and waving to them from their newly-acquired transport, as they went on their way triumphantly!
There was silence in the ditch until Hannah started sobbing. Jack sat in a daze and Maggie was struck dumb. All that had happened in literally minutes; was it a nightmare or a devilish dream? Wordlessly, Maggie climbed up onto the road, ruefully inspecting her now-wet gown, glad she hadn’t put her high-heeled slippers on. Then she helped Hannah. The shoulder seam had come away from the girl’s gown and the whiteness of her trembling skin showed through it. Maggie looked at the muddy contents of the trunk now strewn all over the rutted ground, as she patted and soothed Hannah, thinking of how she had packed everything so carefully. Where was she going to get them cleaned again, was all her mind could say?
“Mother,” Hannah seemed to be the first to come to her senses. “What about looking at Papa? There’s a cut on his face above his eye and he seems to have fallen asleep. What are we going to do about him? He can’t sit in the ditch for the rest of the day.”
The fear in her voice alerted Maggie from wherever her mind had taken her. She had to do something; get Jack some help from somewhere, find them all a safe place to rest their heads. She crouched down to look at her husband. He was moaning quietly and it was true; there was blood tri
ckling down from the cut on his face.
“You must get help, Hannah. I will stay with your father, but first we must try to get him out of there and make him comfortable. Here, take my shawl and lay it over by that bush where the grass is more flattened. Then you run to the nearest village and find someone. Anyone will do, just make it quick in case your father is really ill.”
“But, Mother,” the girl protested. “We haven’t passed through a village or a hamlet as you call them for miles, nor have we seen a soul pass by for hours. I could get lost in the dark. Not find my way back, even if I do get help. Can’t you go, Mother, I’ll stay here with Papa?”
Maggie was about to say “no”, that the girl’s legs were younger than hers, but the legs that she was talking about seemed about to buckle under. Hannah’s face looked grey and it had seemed a great effort on her part to help haul Jack up from where he lay. Maggie stood up with a sigh of resignation and promised to be back as soon as she could. As she walked away, she looked back to see Hannah kneeling beside her father, cradling his head in her arms and crying over him piteously.
Maggie walked for at least twenty minutes before she came across a small slate roofed cottage. She was beginning to tire as the way had become hilly, and her breathing was laboured as she rounded a bend. With a sigh of relief she knocked on the door, hearing a dog barking from somewhere within. Hopefully the occupants would have a cart they could lend her, to bring Jack to their dwelling and let him rest for a while. A face appeared at the cottage window. An old woman’s face; she looked guardedly at Maggie then shook her head.
“Please Missis, will yer listen ter me fer a minute. Me husband is injured, he needs help.”
But the woman shook her head once more and disappeared.
Dear God, thought Maggie, as she trundled dejectedly on. What am I going to do, if no one’s willing to help me? He could take a fever lying there in all his damp clothes.
Another two cottages later and still the same response. No one was willing to open their door.
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