Daniel straightened his shirt as he looked around him. He spat on his shirt cuff and pointlessly tried to use the grimy rag to make his face look cleaner. Then he sat himself down on a low wall, as experience had taught him, the innocent child lost in his own world, and began to sing. If he were singing to himself, it stood to reason that it wasn’t begging. If people stopped and threw money, that was up to them. He didn’t put his hat down to ask for it. He hoped that way the police wouldn’t chase him off quite so soon. As to what Tom was doing in the meantime, he didn’t like to think. To his mind that was the dangerous stuff. It was only a problem for him if they realised he was an accomplice.
“I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day, on Christmas day…”
Daniel sang with his eyes closed. There was still snow on the ground, although it wasn’t fresh. He hoped he’d find any coins that were thrown around him before he went. He could sense a few people stopping to listen and, as the carol ended, looked up briefly, his eyes blinking slightly as though surprised to see them there. Then, without faltering, he began again.
“Hark, the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the New-born King…”
He worked his way through two more carols before stopping and taking his hat off, the sign to Tom that he was finishing so they could move to a new location. As the small crowd drifted away, Tom disappeared into the background and Daniel gathered up the pennies around him. He smiled; the Christmas spirit was alive and well.
“Rich pickings?” Daniel sauntered up to where Tom was waiting two blocks away.
“The best.” Tom’s grin was unnaturally broad.
“Where to now?”
“We’ll find a corner of Union Square.”
“And where’ll we run to if the boys in blue come our way?” Daniel couldn’t help thinking that maybe they should quit while they were ahead. Pray as he might, luck never seemed to last for long.
“Top of Mulberry Street. That’ll be right.”
“Are you crazy? Why don’t we go back now?”
“And what’s Molly going to say to you when you were too scared to do any more?”
Daniel felt himself blush. Tom always knew the ways to get to him. “Just one more then. After that we go back and we don’t walk through the Bowery Boys’ turf.”
Tom laughed and ran ahead, clucking and flapping imaginary elbow wings, leaving Daniel running to catch up, slipping and sliding on the icy snow.
Union Square was busy as Daniel found himself a place to sit. He could feel the cold and damp through his trousers from the stone beneath, and shivered. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he started to sing, this time Silent Night, before repeating some of the carols he’d sung earlier. He was singing I Saw Three Ships and had opened his eyes to look for them when he saw a policeman watching from the street corner, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He couldn’t decide if he was listening for the pleasure or about to intervene. Daniel removed his hat, but no sooner had he seen Tom darting from the back of the crowd than he saw the policeman following. He paused, uncertain what to do. He didn’t want to leave the money, and if the bobbie had gone after Tom then he wouldn’t be there to stop Daniel. He kept his breathing even to finish the song, despite his quickening heart rate, and then got up, blinking innocently at the crowd, who immediately began to disperse.
As soon as the coast was clear, he collected the money that could be reached without looking too conspicuous. As no one seemed interested in him anymore, he started picking up some of the pieces which had fallen further away.
He walked away at a steady pace and tried not to look as terrified as he was feeling, all the time crossing his fingers, hoping that the policemen hadn’t caught Tom. As he looked ahead he thought it was the policeman he could see in the distance, so he ducked into an alley to wait for him to pass. As he did, Daniel smiled to himself. Not only was there no sign of Tom, but it looked for all the world as though the policeman had fallen headlong in the snow. His trousers were wet and there was a patch of ice sticking to his jacket.
Tom was imbued with the luck o’ the Irish all right. If he hadn’t been living in New York so long, Daniel would have sworn his friend had kissed the Blarney Stone. There was almost no situation he couldn’t talk himself out of, or so it seemed to Daniel.
As he approached Mulberry, he saw Tom leaning against a wall, whistling, appearing not to have a care in the world. Daniel was about to shout to him when he saw half a dozen Bowery Boys come out of the neighbouring alley and move to surround Tom. Daniel crossed himself and sent up a prayer, desperately pleading with the Virgin Mary to help him save his friend. There were more than enough of the gang to attack him as well. He needed a way to distract them so they could both run. As he walked a few steps forward to where they were menacing Tom, he felt some of the coins in his pocket. If he didn’t rescue Tom, money wasn’t going to be much use to any of them. He swallowed hard, then took a fistful of coins and with a breaking voice shouted, “Hey!”
The six lads turned as one, focussing on Daniel. They were all older; fifteen or sixteen maybe, and swaggered as though they owned the world, rather than a run-down block or two.
Daniel’s voice croaked, “Look, it’s raining money!” With that, he threw the coins in the air so they came down scattering around the lads. As the Bowery Boys turned their attention to the ground, he indicated to Tom and raced as fast as he could down Mulberry Street. He knew Tom had understood when, in only a block or so, his longer strides had outpaced Daniel and left him behind.
“Wait…” Daniel could feel his lungs burning. Then the unthinkable happened; he slipped on the ice and went sprawling in the snow at the side of the road.
Tom glanced over his shoulder, seeing his friend in trouble, and relief flooded Daniel. Then, to his horror, he saw Tom turn his head forwards and keep running, leaving him to the mercy of the Bowery Boys, who, despite the money collection, were not far behind.
There was no time to hide or to run anywhere now. Daniel closed his eyes and curled himself tightly into a ball.
Time moved slowly as he waited for the first foot to strike. He felt a boot prod at him, rolling him a few inches before he fell back to his starting position.
“Think you can stop us with a few coins, do you?” The boot moved to his chin, trying to force his head away from his chest, but Daniel resisted. He could smell the wet, filthy leather beneath his nose and despite its being no worse than many of the smells around him, he felt himself gag.
“You’re on our land.”
Daniel swallowed hard. Even in his terror he thought of the irony of the struggles for land which had tracked his short life.
“Gonna speak?”
Daniel gave a minimal shake of his head from beneath where his arms encircled it in protection.
Then it came, an agonising thud to his thigh, and there was absolutely nothing he could do but pray. His lips moved silently over his clenched teeth. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death…” His muscles were taut, steeled against the next blow… but it didn’t come. Instead he heard an Irish accent shouting from a little way away.
“Will you leave him be? He’s only a kid. Pick on someone your own size.”
He heard boots shuffling to change position and unscrewed his eyes enough to see through his lashes, as a line of the Roach Guard were squaring up, facing the Bowery Boys.
He recognised some of the Guard, including Patrick Mahoney with a large piece of wood in his hand which he was tapping against his other palm in a menacing gesture.
“Go home, lad, this ain’t goin’ to be pretty,” called the one standing at the front of the Roach Guard. “Get out while you can still walk.”
Daniel uncurled his body and gingerly edged away from the action to the side of the street. He used the wall to haul himself up to standing and started to limp along Mulberry back towards Five Points. He was flooded by exhaustion and for
the first time in two months he felt lonely. When he’d needed him, Tom had run and left him to the mercy of the gang. Daniel frowned in confusion as he thought over what had happened. Was it possible that Tom hadn’t seen him fall? He knew the answer even as he posed the question. Tom had abandoned him and saved his own skin.
The walk back felt a long one, but worse than that, he didn’t know where to go. He’d thought he belonged, but that meant looking out for each other, as he had done for Tom. Now he wasn’t so sure. There was an icy chill in the air as he slumped down on the old tree roots. He’d still got a few coins in his pocket and could maybe buy food and shelter for the night whilst he worked out where to go next. He longed to be back with Mammy, with Molly chiding him for how little he was bringing back. He longed for his own parents, but they were little use to him now.
“You got nothing better to do than sit here feeling sorry for yourself?” It was Tom.
Daniel didn’t reply. He felt uncharacteristic anger welling inside him and balled his fists.
“You know I’d seen Patrick standing there on the opposite corner. No one was going to hurt you when the Roach Guard were around. Besides, Molly would have killed us if I’d lost the day’s pickings through your stupidity.”
Daniel felt his control loosen. “My stupidity? My stupidity, to be sure. How d’you work that one out?” He was on his feet now, squaring up to Tom. It wasn’t a time to think about the fact that he was a good two inches shorter and with no more muscle than a swallow. He punched Tom as hard as he could with his right fist and then stood back a pace, shaking his head, surprised at what he’d done.
Tom stared at him, clutching his lip, then broke into a broad disarming grin. “You wouldn’t be wanting to do that again, now would you? Besides, Molly’s cooked a special stew with real meat in it for once.”
Daniel slumped down on the roots again and Tom landed beside him. “How did you know Patrick would protect me?”
“We pays the Roach Guard protection money, don’t we?”
“But there’s more than that, isn’t there?”
“To be sure there is.” Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he added, “I think Molly’s his sister… but she don’t know that.”
Daniel blinked and shook his head, almost as though he was expecting that last sentence to fall back out of his thoughts. “But Molly was born in Ireland, same as you and me.”
“Have you got straw for brains? Where d’you think Patrick Mahoney came from? Have you heard how he talks? They was from the same village as us back in Ireland. Mammy’s known Patrick Mahoney for years. I overheard her arguing with Da before he went away to work on the railways. He sounded real bitter and said she could always get that low life Mahoney to take care of her again.”
Daniel fell silent. He wanted to believe that Tom had known it would be all right, but a deep nagging feeling told him otherwise. As for Molly having a different da, so what? He’d thought of Tom as a brother, and they didn’t share either parent.
“Did you get much for today’s pickings?” He looked up and studied Tom’s face.
“Not been yet.” He grinned. “Let’s take ’em now and then tomorrow maybe we can swear blood brothers and you’ll believe I didn’t run out on you.”
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed a little and he nodded. He wanted to believe that he’d still got a home and a family to go to. He thought of Molly and the special stew and smiled. “Blood brothers, to be sure.” For a moment he could have been back in the beautiful surroundings of Killarney. He shrugged in that way of his father’s again and smiled, and brushed his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “Blood brothers.”
Chapter 3
“I’ve been a wild rover for many’s the year,
And I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.
And now I’m returning with gold in great store,
And I never will play the wild rover no more.”
Traditional, circa 1830
To Daniel, Mammy’s smile was warmer than the late spring sunshine.
“Won’t you sing us a reel, Daniel?” She remained weak, though her voice was much clearer now. The gentle lilting accent washed over him, bringing comfort whenever he heard it.
He often sang for her as she boiled the rags that Molly brought back from her searches. He would practise the songs he was to sing in the afternoons, occasionally learning a new one by standing outside the bars listening. The time had passed when, closing his eyes, he sang for his da. Now it was Mammy and Molly he was singing for. He’d die for them if they needed him to; the least he could do was sing for them.
Other times he’d help Molly grubbing through the dirt in search of more rags, which Mammy prepared for the collectors to take to the paper mills. The streets were littered with waste from neighbouring households. What else was there to do with it? It was no worse picking through the rubbish than living among it as they did. At least it was honest work and he was paying his own way, and more besides. The times Daniel went rag collecting, Tom stayed behind, always one of them there by Mammy’s side, as Daniel was now.
Mammy began a fit of coughing and Daniel went to her. Molly hated being away from her mother, but Daniel promised to do his best when Mammy shooed Molly out of the shack to search for that day’s rags.
As the coughing subsided and the shack quieted, Mammy spoke softly. “I’d not be here now if the Good Lord hadn’t sent you to us. You surely are a gift from God, Daniel Flynn.”
Daniel felt his cheeks warm as the strength of her words melted around him. He watched Mammy sit a minute with her rough wooden rosary, running it between her fingers as she took strength from her Lord.
Later that evening, when he and Tom returned from his singing, they were all sitting around the fire. The chill had gone from the air, but the fire still shed a welcome light across the tiny room. They kept it alight as best they could, which was easier than starting again if they lost the flame. Molly was sitting close to her mother and Mammy was stroking her hair.
“I remember the days when you was a baby and we was still back in Ireland…”
As Mammy told stories of the old times, Daniel wished fervently they were his history too and that he had been part of their world. Instead, his own stories were fading and it was hard to remember the sound of his own ma’s voice. His memories of her were merging into images of Mammy and he was hardly sure of the truth of his own family now.
“Tell us about life before the blight,” he begged her. “Tell us about the fields and mountains.”
“But you tell it so much better in your songs. They’re beautiful because the land is so bonny and they’re mournful because of the sadness it’s brought.” She looked into the fire, distant and with a gentle frown. Shaking herself, she got up. “I’ll tell no more tonight. I need my sleep, even if the three of you don’t.”
“I’m away out.” Tom kicked forward from the wall he’d been leaning against. “Are yous coming, Daniel?”
Daniel gently shook his head. As Mammy lay down, Molly joined her and Daniel sat alone, staring into the fire. A tear slipped down his cheek as he tried to remember. However hard he tried, he could find no more to hold onto that was real than the songs, and even with those he couldn’t recall which he’d known before and which he’d learned since arriving in New York.
Daniel was still discovering the new pattern to the seasons. Nothing seemed much like he was used to. The winter had been colder and the spring sunnier and now there was heat unlike anything he’d experienced, except as he recalled on the hottest days back home. As the temperature had risen, so too had the stench of the streets, and fresh air was a thing of the past. He thought he was used to the vile smell of the putrid remains, but now he gagged as he passed the worst of the rotting carcasses, remnants of animals too diseased to be eaten. Tom seemed immune to it, already used to the changes the heat brought. Most of the time they made a good team and their system hadn’t failed them yet. Tom wasn’t greedy in his picking of pocke
ts, enough to make the day worthwhile but not so much as to get them caught. With his unruly mop of red corkscrews, he’d have been an easy target if the chase were on.
“Now, you’re not going to go all useless on me, being sick and all?” Tom slapped his back as they passed yet another pile of decomposing remains and Daniel swallowed repeatedly to stop himself vomiting. “It’ll do that voice of yours no good at all, to be sure it won’t. Anyways, we gotta run. I told Mammy I’d be there to pay the rent. I don’t like her seeing Mr Clyde with none of us there.”
Tom broke into a run and Daniel joined him. They had only a couple of blocks to go. As they approached they could see Mr Clyde, already at the doorway, about to call Mammy outside. Tom sped up, Daniel puffing behind him.
“Good afternoon, madam.” He rapped his cane on the ground to demand attention.
“And a good afternoon to you, sir.”
Daniel’s stomach turned, seeing Mammy wasting a smile on Mr Clyde.
“Your rent, Madam.”
How could one man inject so much venom into every word? Daniel watched Mammy turn to go inside and saw Mr Clyde duck his head to follow. Tom barged past the man, almost knocking him from his feet.
“You stays out there. We’ll get your money.” Tom’s face was scarlet and the rage was plain to see.
“Get away, vermin.” Mr Clyde struck Tom across the legs with his cane. Then, towering over him, “You’ll pay for that. I will personally see that you do. No one pushes me around. Remember that, boy. No one!” A snake could not have hissed more effectively as he shoved Tom aside and held his hand out to Mammy, an evil smile playing across his lips. Wrapping his hand around the coins, he lifted his cane so the ball was under Tom’s chin, almost lifting him from the floor. “I’ll see you next month.”
Tom kicked the ground and spat into the dirt.
“Now what did you want to go doing that for?” Mammy asked in the gentlest tones.
New York Orphan (Tales of Flynn and Reilly Book 1) Page 3