The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  Dominic tried to speak once more in defiance of Melchor.

  ‘You are a bastard and son of a rat. One day I will bring you to justice for the way you treat others.’

  ‘Now that is no way for a man of noble birth to speak. One day, you may settle your score, but today the crew and captain have my ear. While we are away from our homeland, then your voice is un-heard and has little worth. For the moment, I am too valuable to be disciplined for a scuffle with a snob and a blackamoor.’

  Dominic passed out, but within minutes, gained consciousness trying to speak in pain, but his larynx felt as though it had been crushed. While he was unconscious, Melchor had stepped on his throat. As he lay on the beach, with the waves lapping his boots and his shirt wet from the surf, Dominic saw the seven men walk away into the sea and wade up to the boat. Cirilo was in the middle of the group and looked over his shoulders at Dominic lying on the beach. Dominic struggled to get to his feet and an elderly, grey, but well-dressed nobleman and a Jesuit priest helped him to walk back to the main contingent. As he lurched forward, he had the appearance of an old man shuffling across the sand.

  Dominic feared for the safety of Cirilo. Although a slave, he could react at times and might prompt Melchor to mistreat or react violently towards him. Melchor would not think twice if he had a mind to kill a slave. Cirilo was on his own now and would need to stay calm, obey Melchor and resist further discord.

  The fire party were soon set to work on the boat. Because of his agility and youth, Cirilo was ordered below deck with a wood and cloth torch to set alight anything which would burn with ease. He found string, ropes tar and wicker piled it up into a corner; lighting it quickly, he moved on to the next section.

  Meanwhile, Melchor and the rest of the contingent set about lighting the boat from outside and on the deck. They had to work quickly and would risk capture if they did not get back to Fahy and the contingent at speed.

  As Dominic watched, the huge boat took some time to show outward signs of burning, but once the pools of tar started to burn at high temperature, the fire quickly took hold and smoke was seen billowing from the hull. The boat eventually displayed flames as it burned on the outside, as well as within. The wind fanned the flames as the black and grey smoke belched high into the air. If ever there was a sign that the Spanish had arrived, then this was it.

  Melchor had been concerned with the task at hand and made no plans for Cirilo and his escape route. The slave was superfluous, dispensable and Cirilo’s life was worth nothing to him. The fires were lit on the upper decks at the same time as Cirilo was lighting them below deck. He was unaware that his escape routes were soon to become blocked by flames. Within a few minutes, the wood was cracking and spitting with so much rapidity that it sounded like a constant hiss. Cirilo was inside and the rest of the fire starters turned to look for him, but Melchor ordered them to move out.

  One sailor protested, ‘…but the young slave is still on board.’

  ‘You think I do not know? The fire is all around the ship, there is nothing we can do for him, he will not be missed, move out – now!’

  Cirilo was frantically trying to find a way out safely without suffering the flames. As the boat burned hotter and filled with smoke, Cirilo choked on the acrid fumes and was forced to crawl on the floor in an attempt to reach cleaner air. By now the flames could be seen through widening cracks in the wooden cladding.

  ‘Help! Help!’

  There was no hope; the rest of the contingent had long left. As he gasped for breath amongst the turbulence, he found an enclosed cupboard and several times, he opened the door enough to suck in some cleaner air, before it too was full of the lethal smoke. As the coughing and retching increased, he prepared himself for death. Believing it would come soon, he recited the Lord’s Prayer as he felt his chest burn and his consciousness wane. He would not be conscious for long and would not have enough time for the full creed, he muttered the last Latin line.

  ‘Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesiam catholicam, sanctorum communionem, remissionem peccatorum, carnis resurrectionem, vitam aeternam. Amen.’

  (‘I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. Amen.’)

  As water flooded into the bow at the front of the boat, he fell to the ground. He heard a groan and a crack and the movement of the boat rocking on the sand. If only he could get to an upper deck, perhaps he could climb through a cannon porthole. There was little chance, it was hopeless and there was no route to a higher deck without a gauntlet of intense flame. The weight of water entering the front of the boat caused the vessel to pitch slightly and he noticed water disappearing at his feet. As he followed the stream at what was now waist height, he believed drowning to be a better death that burning.

  ‘Holy Father, forgive my sins. Holy Mother, pray for us sinners.’

  Cirilo threw himself into the torrent of water being sucked through the breach in the wall. The water took him forward quickly and towards a gap in the hull, about five feet long. As his body moved forward, a piece of decking fell from what was now the side of the vessel. The timber hit him on the back with great force and propelled his body further into the gap. The height of the fissure was not wide enough for his head. The combined power of the water pressure and the force of the blow pushed him through the gap in the hull. The force on his skull was excruciating, as his head was forced between the two beams. His head started to move through the gap as his forehead aligned his skull to the planks. Under the water, his cries of pain went unheard as his nose broke under the pressure. He could feel it pressed onto his left cheek as his head violently passed through the gap. He cried out in agony as the pain seemed to fill his head. Once his nose provided no more resistance, his head slipped through the wood grazing and erasing his skin. His inflated chest was now stuck in the gap.

  At the same time that the water pressure increased, his lungs and muscles were burning through the build-up of lactic acid and the craving for air. The pain was unbearable and he realised that his death would be agonising but be complete very soon. Cirilo had no time for prayers now as he prepared himself for his last breath. He knew his lungs would fill with water, not air and it would also be his last. He had no strength or desire to hold on any longer and his body exhaled the spent air in his lungs as he experienced the pain of suffocation in his lungs and diaphragm. His chest profile reduced and his body slowly moved with pressure of the water current. Cirilo cried out again silently as his lungs filled with water, the pain was immense and then he lost consciousness. Pressure from the beams above and below now prevented the instinctive urge to inhale. His world was no more, his pain was no more.

  Melchor and the rest of the party returned to the rear of the stream of people, goods and possessions, moving away from Fahy and to the north. There was an un-easy calm as the majority of people pondered their good luck and fortune at being saved, along with the insecurity of their predicament. Because the Rata grounded on the soft and graduated beach, it did not break up and most of the occupants were in good condition. They were all very lucky the sight of their soldiers and arms had prevented any serious or immediate attack. De Leiva would not allow the crew to stay in one place long enough to be threatened and so the plan was to keep moving and rendezvous with the Santa Ana without delay.

  As soon as the crew and passengers were ready to move on, the order was given to take the road to the Mullet Peninsula. As with the initial landing, a contingent of Spanish soldiers went forward from the main party. The road was long and they were soon away from the beach, which would have given attackers an advantage by limiting the opportunity to escape. As they moved on from the castle, Dominic maintained his plea to be allowed to go back and look for Cirilo.

  ‘Please Melchor, let me return to the boat and search for my blackamoor; I will be back soon.’

  ‘No, the commander has ensured that apart from the death of Fitzmauric
e before we came ashore, there were no losses of life during the landing and he wishes to maintain this good testimony. The slave is no more and to recover his cooked body would only be to confirm what we already know.’

  With some irony, Melchor was right, the Rata was carrying a high number of noble people and De Leiva was proud of his success in beaching without any losses. Apart from the son of the rebel James Fitzmaurice, there were no deaths and Cirilo’s disappearance, being a mere slave, was to be conveniently ignored.

  ‘My slave Cirilo was lost on the boat, did you see him dead?’

  Melchor laughed.

  ‘I did not need to see him to know what became of him; your stupid black friend has got himself killed and the commander will not be bothered by the loss of a slave. He will though want to maintain his reputation and demonstrate that he has not lost anyone from the boat, so his death is not relevant. If you return to the boat, you may lose your life as well his. Your life is of value to De Leiva and so I will not allow you to go back, only for you to discover a dead man.’

  At this time more than any other, Dominic realised the paradox he had lived with. His best friend was lost. A man who all his life had been treated poorly and at his moment of death, Dominic was not there for him. He felt as though his whole relationship of trust and friendship had now been a betrayal. There were so many things he wished he had said and done and now it was too late.

  As swiftly as they had arrived, De Leiva moved them on from Fahy and towards the north end of the bay.

  Profit from the Boat

  The three horsemen sent word to Glencastle to expect the Spanish soon. When the Spanish were out of sight, the scouts made their way cautiously to the huge wreck of the Rata. Their mission was now to assess the boat for items of worth and to recover what they could. James was the front rider and after stopping his steed, he briefed the other two scouts.

  ‘Remember why we are here and take no risks other than the ones we need in order to do our work. We are to find knowledge of the Spanish numbers, wealth and arms. If we can find and guard any valuables, then so be it.’

  Thomas was confused over their intentions.

  ‘But what do we do if we are confronted?’

  ‘That will depend on the threats that face us, but rest assured, we will not attack unless it is with great assurance of the outcome. They have strong and ruthless soldiers and probably many weapons of war. Stay close and low, but keep open your eyes.’

  The three men had been stalking the Spanish for two days now and were confident that in time, if their numbers were small enough and contained, they could trap the Spanish, starve them, overcome and take a heavy reward.

  The action of the locals was measured though and their plan, while the scouts were out, was to raise men and arms into a force of great numbers and block the escape route. They were aware of the other Spanish ships through travellers, who had passed through the Mullet. If intelligence was favourable, then they would overcome the Spanish to take their wealth, goods and belongings.

  If the threat was too great or the movement of the Spanish too swift, then the plan was to take what they could from the boat and reinforce other strongholds before tracking the Spanish to their destination. Hopefully, they would then watch as they die at the hands Queen Elizabeth’s army.

  By now, the boat had broken up and all that was left was a huge mound of black embers, smoke and doused oak. There were some unburned remains of rope, ironwork and sails under the water. It appeared that the fire had consumed everything that could bring the Irish any significant gain from the wreck. Even the abandoned and poorly cast cannon balls of varying calibre would be risky to use without the skills of an experienced gunner. There were some large calibre cannons left on the ship and at the castle, but they were not immediately visible amongst the wreckage. If though some of the items left by the Spanish proved to be beneficial, then perhaps it would satisfy the Irish and provided a necessary diversion. As it was, in the mind of De Leiva, there was a very significant risk that the clansmen would look towards the landing party for their opportunities. The Spanish would therefore need to move fast.

  Cirilo’s body lay lifeless as the boat burned with growing intensity. It was positioned face up in the water, partly kept afloat by pockets of air in his boots and clothing. The boat burned and hissed in the shallow water as the clothes on his remains gave off steam and smoke. The current took the body away from the heat. The tide gradually waned and had receded enough to deposit Cirilo’s body on the water’s edge inland from the wreckage.

  As the three clansmen returned to Fahy and neared the beach, it was clear that the Spanish had completely abandoned the boat and James signalled to move closer to the wreckage. Their approach was guarded as they moved closer to the wreck, whilst looking back at the track and keeping a lookout for snipers who might double back. The tide was slack now and they were able to walk the horses through the water as they surveyed the remains. James and Richard walked the horses clockwise around the boat. Thomas and his horse went the other way around the boat and initially it appeared that there was little sign of anything worth taking. There may have been some useful timbers and arms below the waterline, but there was certainly very little booty.

  As Thomas turned to join the others, he saw what looked like a black rock, protruding from the water to the south, but it seemed darker and smoother than it should be and the surf water appeared to be moving it. It was giving off smoke and steam which, to these suspicious minds, appeared demon like. He paced his horse cautiously closer and it soon became apparent that they had discovered a body charred by the flames. As he approached, he could see the skin was not charred black but was smooth like marble. It was the body of a black man. It was immediately assumed that the dark skin was charring. As they moved closer, it became clearer that this was a man with black skin. For these three men, this was a new experience. They had never seen a black person before, although they were aware of the slave trade and had heard of such people. It was a fact that Grace O’ Malley, her 100 ships and other traders had obtained many slaves through piracy.

  The body was lifeless and they were sure he was dead, if for no other reason, that he had an oak splinter the size of a large dagger in his side. James and Richard dismounted, while Thomas remained on horseback, using the height to keep a lookout for the Spanish and looking up to the skyline for telling silhouettes. James wet his hand on the surf and put it onto the face of the slave. He watched the movement of the water, looking for bubbles as he covered his nose and mouth.

  ‘Help me get the body onto a horse. We will take him back, he may be close to death, but we must try to save him.’

  ‘Why should we have interest to save a Spanish invader?’ said Thomas.

  James replied, ‘I do not know fully, but he is alive against his chances and I feel that he should be allowed the change that God has afforded him.’

  The three men all pulled and pushed the wet body onto Richard’s horse. As Cirilo’s chest made contact with the horses main, a release of air and water spilled from his mouth and from his lungs.

  ‘We will need a cart if we are to move him and keep him alive. James, we will get him down and wait here. Use your belongings as security, but not your weapons and lend a cart with harness. Say nothing of your purpose, but ensure they know it is for Richard Barrett.’

  While James was away, Thomas returned to the ship and took what he could from the wreckage, including rope, damaged light weapons pales, plates and other items that had been left by the Spanish. If the black man died, then they would still need to ensure that their journey back to Glencastle was worthwhile, it would take a day and a half to reach the town.

  The black man had regained consciousness but spoke in a foreign tongue. James was back from Doona within three hours with a jaunting cart, but his condition worsened. By the time they got Cirilo onto the cart, he was unconscious once more. Just in case he should try to escape, his head was covered and he was tied onto the cart.


  The crew and passengers of the Rata were long gone from the beach and the first contingent were now occupants of the next castle further along the road to Belmullet at Glencastle. Cirilo was forgotten, left for dead by the only people who could have helped him, Melchor and the fire-party.

  Many of the guests had left Glencastle and were dispersing into their communities. Some tents and makeshift shelters were still in place when De Leiva approached the final bend in the road to Belmullet at Glencastle and so he ordered the soldiers to march in flanks, loaded and ready for battle.

  The sight of the Spanish was formidable, they were well armed and armoured with their detailed and colourful uniforms concealing their fatigue. It was not long before MacPadine had reluctantly consented to their passage and they were allowed water with unhindered passage through the road toll in return for gold coins and jewels. If it was at the will of the Bourkes, it would have been a different matter. The clans had massed at Glencastle for a ceremonial gathering and were not inclined towards confrontation. All mention of the fate of the 15 deserters was kept secret. Knowledge of their doom might provoke reprisals.

  The Barretts had been paid by De Leiva and had benefitted from the encounter. There had been no attrition or loss and so the Spanish had free passage to Belmullet, where they hoped to mass with other crews.

  All women and children were ordered into the castle building, away from the procession in case fighting broke out. As Dominic walked past Glencastle, he looked up at Emily standing at the very top and gave her a warm smile. Holding forward his hat, he bowed his head to her, making it clear that she was his target of attention. Emily looked around and then waved a hand at him. She put it down quickly and looked to see if she had been noticed. Rose and Sally were looking directly at her. Sally looked shocked and open mouthed as Rose covered her mouth as if stopping herself from speaking. Sally could not stop herself from mocking her cousin.