The Watchman's Grace

by Craig Johnson

  “First, we want self-government established immediately in Ireland, through a parliament based in Ireland. Nothing meaningful in the majority of citizens’ interests will happen unless we have this most important step. Second, we want to change the laws of this country to end forced evictions and burdensome tithes which add no value to the lives of many. Third, we wish to establish equal access to education for all children in Ireland, for a sound mind is essential for a greater Ireland. Lastly, we aim to establish a basic living standard for all Irish citizens, so that malnutrition and rot are a thing of the past!

  “Many other matters will beg for attention when our home government comes back to Irish soil. But these are the necessary foundations with which to stem this tide of misery so many of you feel. Much is needed in our land today. The challenges are many. And through inaction, we ignore them at our peril.

  “So if any sons and daughters are committed to the ideal of what Ireland should be, I welcome you to meet with us now and find out how we can accomplish that aim. I, Peter Harvey and Samuel McGee thank you for your time and interest.”

  When the attentive audience realized Duncan had finished talking, they erupted in a throaty roar across Greenhill Commons. The trio on stage waved with enthused vigor. During the applause, one solidly built fellow tentatively approached their stage.

  “Duncan Malloy,” he shouted above the din. “My mind had soured on the goodness of this land long ago when my wife and two young ones could not survive The Great Famine. Those were many years ago, yet I still live as a shell of a man, with nothing on the horizon to ease my great loss.

  “Today, you touched a nerve I have not felt in a very long time. I guess what I am saying is how do I join your lot? I have little means, but I am fit and the mind still works. All I have left is what remains of my country. I will not lose hope on that as well!”

  Duncan smiled kindly upon the man. “Please, come closer. What is your name sir?”

  “Ryan O’ Toole is the name. And I share the silent wish of many to rid this land of destitution, absentee landlords, and exclusion based on religion or class. I am getting on in years, so I fear there will be few chances left if I hesitate now. So where do I begin?”

  Duncan motioned for O’Toole to join him on stage. Then he yelled out to the remaining audience as they began to retreat from Greenhill Commons.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have beside me one man who has received our message today wholeheartedly. In this entire county are thousands who have these same wishes. Yet it all starts with the personal commitment of you. If that is the case, please join me on stage with Mr. O’Toole and help make our good intentions a reality!”

  Emboldened by his appeal, a number of people separated from the departing mass and made straight for their stage. Samuel McGee joined Duncan to greet and speak further about the Common Man Movement. Peter was below, thanking attendees at the entrance to Greenhill Commons.

  Samuel’s organizational skills proved invaluable, which is why Aidan Malloy knew he would be of great assistance. When the last of these volunteers departed, Duncan could see fledging roots of progress taking seed. Thanking Samuel for all his efforts, he expressed appreciation with their new alliance. A principle goal of the movement was establishing regional contacts for advancing their agenda. County Mayo would figure prominently as the first place for implementing this strategy.

  Duncan approached the waiting cab where Peter sat patiently. From Greenhill they were due to travel on for a larger presentation in Ballina two days later. Duncan felt growing confidence with the solid reception Greenhill produced. People were beginning to realize their plight was intertwined with participation. The Common Man Movement aimed to show citizens that without action, necessary reform would not happen.

  He came to within a few feet of stepping aboard when a highly agitated young lad ran straight for their cab. He proceeded to knock furiously upon it, attracting the attention of a stunned Peter. Peter turned in the direction of the boy outside their carriage.

  “What is the matter young man?” queried a concerned Peter.

  The boy was bent over, with hands on knees to regain his breath. After a moment he straightened up and shouted at him.

  “Come at once! They’re dragging his ill wife and child out of their house. Her husband has been knocked unconscious. Please, for the love of mercy, come this instant!”

  Peter’s mind immediately flashed back to the Connolly family’s forced eviction he witnessed in youth. He would be damned to hear of a repeat occurrence if it was in his power to prevent it.

  “Young man, you must come inside and give directions to where this is happening. Duncan, come quickly! There’s another forced eviction which sounds to have turned violent.”

  Duncan raced into their carriage to join the lad and Peter. The boy gave directions to an address a mile or so outside of Greenhill. Both men knew County Mayo had one of the worst rates of forced eviction throughout Ireland. And today was as good as any to make a personal stand against such abusive actions.

  When they approached the small stone farmhouse, this shameful event was still in progress, drawing a horrified crowd of onlookers. As their cab was still coming to a halt, Peter flung from the carriage in a hard challenge to the aggressors.

  “Stop this instant! Take your hands off the woman and child at once. Do as I say or you shall deal with proper authorities!”

  The three ruffians looked up to see an imposing Peter flanked by Duncan and their driver. They weighed their odds of overpowering the new strangers when another voice entered into an imminent confrontation.

  “Hold up men for a minute! And may I ask who you are? What is your concern in the matter?” This man sported the fine dress of an upper class gentleman, with an air of authority to match. Peter came forward to reply.

  “Our names are of no importance in this matter. You have three overgrown men striking a lady and her child! Her husband lies on the ground seriously injured. Nothing can merit such wanton acts of aggression. Our concern is for their very lives!”

  “Well, these people are my tenants, and they’re behind in their rent for two whole months. Since this is private land and a private matter I doubt any authority will intervene. Furthermore you should know…”

  Duncan Malloy interrupted the landlord mid-sentence. “Listen, as gentlemen, we appeal to your sense of honor. What is the cost for this family’s rents to be made up to date?”

  The landlord paused to size up these three men. He responded in a measured tone of voice.

  “I only want what is due from this lot. I have carried them for two months with no complaint. Now was time for action, since I do not run a charity for squatters!” He moved sharply away from the trio, only to let practicality soon calm his temper. Returning to face them, he continued in a more composed manner.

  “You should address me by my name, Mr. Fothergill. If you have on your person enough to cover the period I stated, they will have no trouble with me. Here is the figure.” Fothergill fished a scrap of paper from his overcoat and scrawled a figure to show Duncan. Duncan immediately reached into his breast pocket and paid the written amount in legal notes.

  “Your amount is now satisfied to the last penny Mr. Fothergill,” he stated sternly. “I wish any items taken from their lodgings returned and put back in place. Furthermore, do I have your assurance on your honor that no ill will shall visit these tenants?”

  Fothergill stuffed the notes inside his overcoat after counting. “I can give you that provided their rent remains in good standing,” he growled in return.

  Duncan looked towards Peter and the driver. “Our business is done here. We will take our leave. Good day Mr. Fothergill.”

  With that, Peter and Duncan left the premises, leaving both onlookers and Fothergill’s hired hands in stunned wonderment. As Peter walked past the young lad who alerted them at Greenhill Commons, he
gave a gentle pat on his back. The lad smiled with great appreciation, then ran off to another nameless stone hovel over a distant landscape.

  Meanwhile, Fothergill stood ramrod straight with hands sitting on his hips. “Who were the Colored fellow and his colleague?” he asked one of his hires.

  “I heard the names Peter Harvey and Duncan Malloy called out from a person in the watching throng sir.”

  Fothergill pounded his right fist hard against the cottage’s heavy door in sudden recognition. “Did you say Duncan Malloy? From the Malloy family who reside in Dublin? Why is the likes of him associating with such rabble? Their family’s name goes a long way in this country. Has he not the good sense to represent it better in personal dealings?

  “I see it’s coming to a point where a man cannot conduct proper business without these upstart interlopers obstructing our actions. Now even those from our own class want to play into the game!

  “Time I came in touch with some friends in Dublin Castle, or higher if I must. This rabble will start taking away the good order of affairs we currently enjoy. Eventually they will take our country right from under us if we do not act.”

  The same hire spoke again in response. “I hear what you say Mr. Fothergill, but the movement for change is growing daily. There is much misery among the working class and poor…”

  Fothergill’s face turned scarlet with anger. “I’ve heard enough of that nonsense from your mouth! Ireland is a country, not a charity. If those people you speak about had any notion to run their own concerns, they would not be in such a bad way.

  “I will say this; if one cannot manage their own affairs, a mob of them having say at government will result in compounded misery. Fortunately I know someone who has the ear of a senior Security Force man in Dublin. It is in the nation’s best interests to stop agitators like these as soon as possible.”

  Fothergill moved away and prepared to enter his cab. Before stepping inside, he shouted a directive to the same man.

  “Listen, after you three are finished here return to the main house. Lots of things have to be attended to while I am away. I want no issues on my return. Do you understand? Important business awaits me in Dublin.”

  “Yes sir, everything will be looked after,” the trio replied in unison.

  With a nod of his head, Fothergill sat down and directed the driver back to his manor home for evening dinner.

  As for Duncan and Peter, their selfless action in aid of a local family’s peril drew swift praise. When more people connected them to their earlier presentation at Greenhill Common, the unintended effect was a groundswell of favorable endorsement. By the time of their carriage’s departure for Ballina, many a smiling face bade them safe travel.

  Setting out on the journey ahead, Peter and Duncan were joined by an addition companion. To their great benefit, Samuel McGee insisted on traveling with the duo to Ballina. McGee knew if the next presentation did not build upon their solid showing in Greenhill, earlier enthusiasts may see their cause as a fleeting interest. At this early stage, each one knew it was critical to dispel any doubts about the viability of their Common Man Movement.

  While in transit, McGee imparted some background information concerning the town. “Ballina is just south of Killala. I imagine you both know something about Killala and the French landing during the Rebellion of 1798. If so, then you understand this part of the country has bled before for a cause similar to our own. Though our Common Man Movement is peaceful, they will not hesitate to bleed again! Remember the west counties breed men of patriotic disposition. They desire no British rule in Ireland, and know the sacrifices it will take to achieve that goal.”

  Peter replied in complete understanding. “As a Kilmarnie lad from the west of Ireland I understand fully what independence means for this land. We Harveys gave our hearts and toil to see the day Irishmen govern over Irish citizens in an Irish parliament. And even if they conspire to stop this movement like others before, one day Ireland will achieve its true birthright. What we do now is carry the torch just a little further along to its final destination.”

  Samuel tapped Peter’s back in approval. “Why do I feel in the presence of men that may go farther than they realize? It comes naturally to you both, yet you do not see it. That’s what furthers your potential; humble men doing a noble deed.”

  Ballina lay in a valley at the mouth of River Moy. She had her roots as a market town with a small sea port. Peter felt an instant kinship to its location beside the Atlantic, and grew a touch wistful for Kilmarnie’s way of life. Drawing closer, they could feel a rush of blood in expectation of a larger audience. Greenhill was a small village, while Ballina represented a venue of some significance. The reputation of their movement would be made or lost in this town.

  Once again Samuel had his associates plastering notices concerning the event on boards throughout town a couple of weeks before. He was confident they would be presenting in front of a large audience. On arriving at their lodgings, they reviewed all arrangements in preparation for the engagement. By morn of their scheduled appearance date, the trio was confident all was in hand.

  Just outside Ballina town center lay an improvised stage in a small park to host them. With time to spare, they mounted the steps and reviewed their layout. Sightlines and weather were agreeable, making them pleased for their prospects. Yet when the hour to commence was upon them, only a few stragglers had arrived. Duncan began to have some uneasiness.

  “Samuel, we must start soon, but look around you. I daresay we had many more people in Greenhill than today. Were your men effective in getting the word out?”

  McGee was surprised to hear this insinuation. “I would trust my men to the ends of our earth! You’ve seen what they did in Greenhill. Just remember, along with speaking skills, faith in the work of your people is also important for a leader’s success.”

  Peter now entered the discussion. “Duncan, I trust completely that Samuel will pull through. There will be a reasonable explanation for the lack of attendance thus far. We shall wait till the people arrive.”

  Samuel smiled at Peter. “See there? Those are the words of a man not put off too easily. Like I said Duncan, you shall have your audience, even if I have to go out and gather them off the streets myself!”

  One minute turned to more as they waited for additional people to attend. After another fifteen minutes, Duncan looked at Samuel in deep concern.

  “Listen Samuel, I have no doubt about your dedication to the cause. Perhaps it is best we reschedule the event for another time when we have…”

  “Duncan, Samuel, wait one minute! Look over there if you will,” Peter directed. Samuel took in the sight before him and grinned broadly.

  “There you are Duncan Malloy; never doubt the will of this man and his people!” Out of nowhere came a stream of bodies onto the grounds in front of their stage. An open area of sparse attendance had grown within minutes to a bustle of activity. A young man in the crowd waived intently towards them, catching Samuel McGee’s eyes.

  “Oh, there’s Finnegan, one of my helpers. I guess he needs to tell me something.” Samuel waived the man over. He immediately scrambled up the stage steps.

  “Well Finnegan, you seem to be in a state of bother. Tell me what is up with you now lad?” McGee inquired.

  Finnegan tried to catch his breath before speaking. “Mr. McGee, it was horrible! A long line was traveling in this direction, many to attend the event.

  “Then, out of wild yonder, a large haulage cart overturned, dumping its contents on the road out of town center! There were a few injured, so the route was blocked for some time. Just moments ago they allowed people to pass. I was worried you might cancel for lack of attendance.”

  Samuel gave Duncan a deserved look of vindication. “Thank you Finnegan for your diligence. Now go out into this crowd and help organize the throng. We have to start shortly to make up fo
r the delay.”

  Finnegan quickly scrambled off the stage to assist. McGee turned back to face Duncan and Peter.

  “Men, we all knew our task would not be easy. But you both had the guts to bring your aims this far, which is more than most ever dream. So now your sole concern should be to grow this movement.

  “Little do they know it, but the whole nation needs to see your success if it is to develop in any meaningful form. If not, Ireland will become a puppet state, bereft of choosing its own destiny. Then, we all might as well emigrate!”

  Within moments the crowd stood in heavy anticipation. Today, it was Peter who would provide a passionate appeal to the audience. They reacted in wonder at the spectacle of this Colored Irishman, with his bold reflections on practiced neglect in current state affairs. Samuel McGee closed the event with a local perspective on how to support the cause.

  Similar to the engagement’s conclusion in Greenhill, volunteers were invited to enquire on how to assist Samuel McGee’s local chapter in County Mayo. On previous dialogue with Aidan Malloy, it was agreed to establish regional heads according to county, thus facilitating smoother operations. To that end, Duncan’s father had key men located across the country, handpicked to lead each county’s appeal.

  Furthermore, local heads would hold fundraising initiatives, disbursing monies according to the movement’s central objectives. Over and above this, Duncan and Peter frequently gave from their own resources when feeling compelled to act, as in Greenhill.

  In the course of today’s volunteer efforts, one middle aged man approached Peter.

  “So you are the man they spoke about in Greenhill. I hear you hail from Kilmarnie? Good folk down that way.”

  “Yes, I am. There’s always a part of me that craves to catch the breath of salt air in my hometown. I hope today’s engagement was of some use for you.”

  “You speak Peter Harvey of all that ails our land, and you offer solutions to the mess that has been created. So indeed, there is practicality in all you said. But I stand before you now for no more than selfish interest.