“Here, let us leave her for now,” Marcus said, “ and let us wish plenty of luck. We must admit that she certainly is not a coward at any rate. She is over in Birmingham tonight, earning her living and she is only eighteen years old. Where is there another youngster in the Gleann who would do it? Belt up a good hearty tune Conn, brother, and put that table out of the way until we have a set-dance. Come out here, woman of the house. I don’t know when we had a step of dancing together. Get up Nansai, sister, and bring out that man with you, and let the four of us do a half-set.”
While they were discussing Una’s affairs in Dun le Grein, that night, it so happened that she was enjoying life over Birmingham city. She and her boy friend were sitting at a small table that had glass leaves patterned on it, in a public house and they were both merry. He had a glass of portor in front of him and she had a glass of wine. He was a handsome young man from Birmingham, and he was dressed in a soldier’s uniform, the same as lots more who were at the tables all around them. He was baptised in the Protestant Church; but he told her that it was many a day since he had bowed his head to any church. There were plenty of them in it, he thought, and he did not know which church he should recognise; and he was not interested in studying the ways of any of them any way, he told her. He had been a shop boy before he was drafted into the army. He had his training done at this stage, and he was going out to France in a few days. This was to be the last night for himself and Una to be together for some time; or forever maybe.
”Una, darling,” he said, “let us make a night of it tonight! It is possible that we may never see each other again. Throw back your drink love. Throw it back and we will have another. Una, we won’t go to any picture tonight. Damn the pictures.”
Una laughed a hearty laugh, and she was a very inviting young woman at that moment.
“Wallace Woods,” she said, “you are drunk.”
“I’m not, love,” he said. “I am only merry, but even if I was drunk itself what harm would it be, Una, of the wavy hair? A week from this night, Una, I will be away out there in the trenches. I believe I will be cold and wet. Death will be all around me from morning to night, and from night to morning. The rocks will be marshes and the marshes will be rocky. Bodies will be lying there, in piles without care. I will be afraid, and terrified. But what can I do about it, Una? Isn’t it for the sake of England that we are going into battle? Britons never shall be slaves, you know!
Goodbye Piccadilly, goodbye Leicester Square,
It’s a long way to Tipperary…”
Men and women who were already tipsy, picked up the song and began to sing it over and over again. Una thought that they were great company. The music settled them and Wallace Woods brought another drink to the table.
“Devil the stop you will make until you set me drunk,” Una said. “What do you think, will this glass make me drunk, Wallace?”
“If it does itself,” he said, “What’s the difference? Do you see that young woman over there? She is a married woman and she is drinking with a man who has a woman of his own. She is blind, but what of it? Down there is another woman who is also blind. What about them?”
“Well they are a bad and a shameful sight to see,” Una said, “and from this night forward you won’t see me inside the door of a public house. God if my family knew where I am tonight. If Triona could see me now, Son of God.”
“Who is Triona?” Wallace Woods asked.
“A sister of mine who is married to a man called Marcus Mac Alastair.”
“Marcus Mac Alastair,” he said. “That is a nice name, Marcus Mac Alastair.”
Little he knew that he was going to meet the same Marcus, before too long. He threw back his glass and he called for another drink. But Una had enough. She had the third bottle of porter drank that night. She found that it was making her head dizzy and coming back in her neck. She was afraid that she would get drunk like some of the women all around her. What misfortune was on her to come in among this crowd of foreigners at all? She was only a silly girl and hundreds of miles away from her own people! She remembered stories she had heard in Gleann Ceo, about terrible deeds that had taken place in the big cities out foreign. She got scared. Herself and the two girls from Ballinashee were working together in an armoury factory. They were living in a small room where they shared the rent between them; and it would take her a long time to get to that room now.
“Wallace” she said, “don’t get any more drink for me. I have enough. I am going home.”
“Going home? Ah now Una you are not serious. Is that what you are going to do on me, this last night we have together? Sit down woman, our drinks are coming.”
She stretched her hand towards him but he would not take it.
“Goodbye Wallace,” she said, “and good luck to you.”
Off she went through the crowd, before he noticed it, and he was left sitting alone at the table with two glasses in front of him.
IN THE REPUBLICAN ARMY
The evening sun was fading across the Bradshleibhe, as if it wanted to depart altogether until morning from Gleann Ceo. She had taken her leave already from the lower areas around the banks of Abhann an Eas. She spread her yellow gold rays over Sliabh an Iarann and Dun le Grein in a way that words could not describe. But her beauty was not to last long on worldly things. It died little by little, and gloom settled on the face of the two mountains, as if they were watching the object of their pleasure escaping down behind the hill. And you would think the sun knew only too well the appearance she was leaving on the mountains, because she speckled the beautiful sky above her as if she was giving them some time before they fell asleep in obscurity.
Down on the Srathan Ban, on the banks of Abhann an Eas, there was a group of men in training. They were scattered here and there on the bank taking a well deserved rest, because as well as having done a hard days work in the mine, they were diligently drilling by the Srathan Ban. Most of the young men were under thirty years of age. Some of them were talking loudly, some were arguing with each other, some telling stories, and some whispering. Smoke was rising from pipes and buts were thrown into the river. Most of them had wooden guns, but six or seven has riffles. The group with the wooden guns were envious of the riffle men, and the men with the riffles were mocking the men with the wooden guns. We already know two of the riffle men, Peadar Guildea, and Pol and Greasai. We should also know the officer in charge of the company; that tall fair-haired man, Marcus Mac Alastair. And what would be wrong with us, if we did not know the two assistant officers who were sitting on the bank of the river together; Feargal Guildea and Conn Mac Carty. These three were wearing officer’s belts, and they had guns. When they removed the belts and the guns no one would recognise that they belonged to the Republican Army of Ireland.
Marcus leaped to his feet and he delivered a short sharp order. Every man cleared off no matter what kind of a gun he had, and he found his place in the blink of an eye. A few more quick orders and they were standing to attention in two lines in front of him.
“Company,” he said, “you have the foot drill and the arms drill well learned in my opinion. You have a good enough knowledge of the riffles and how to operate them, also the hand grenade, and explosives, as well as the mines, and a lot of other little things that have to do with soldiering. I am very well pleased with you. And the officer who came to inspect you last night is also well pleased with you. It is my belief that no harm will come to me or to yourselves. We are obliged to strike a blow against the enemy. The Republican Army is doing wonderful things throughout the land. So far we are winning the day but we must do our part of the work. It is past time for us to do something to help banish the foreigners out of the Island of Saints and Scholars. The British are circled firmly around Gleann Ceo; there are plenty of police in Droim Dhilliuir and in Ballinashee, and in Drumkeeran, and in Dromahair. It is our duty to attack these strongholds, and to burn them to the ground; and if necessary to defend the garrisons, which they have possessed, it
is our duty to attack them hastily and to kill them if necessary.
“The latest story that I hear is that it is proposed to establish a hospital in this Gleann for the Republican Army, and that they are thinking about sending a foot patrol here, for a while at any rate. I fully agree with both proposals. It would be difficult to find a healthier more peaceful, and more secluded place for a care centre for wounded soldiers of the Republic to recover. They would recover more quickly if they were not afraid night and day, that the enemy would find them. Our den down on the banks of the Eas Abhann would suffice as a hospital only it must be properly prepared first. A wooden floor must be fitted, and a ceiling, and the walls lined with wood as well. As for the foot patrol I think it is necessary to establish it here. There is no better place for headquarters location for a squad like that. It is easy to make an attack on the British stronghold from this place, and we can make full use of the mountains. If the British follow them here, it is easy to ambush them, at lots of places on the way; and whether they decide to fight or to run, no doubt they will not delay if they see the enemy coming from every side. And if any man is afraid that the British are getting the upper hand on him let him go down into the hiding den. He will be safe from harm there, unless there is a traitor in the place; and I don’t believe there is.
“And now men, I will not ask you to do any more tonight. But tomorrow evening let every single man be at the hall at ten o’clock. We have to bring guns all over the Gleann when it gets dark. We need guns badly and every man who has a gun will have to give it to us. Because we have a barrack to attack in a few nights time where we will get guns, riffles and ammunition; and if we don’t get a few guns and riffles and ammunition in the barrack I am very much mistaken. And that is not the only barrack that we will attack either. The foot patrol when they arrive will not be able to say that they only found fireside soldiers here. We wouldn’t be able to lift our heads.
“Now, let no man breath a single word about anything to which I have referred here. The man that does will regret it. You will get your orders about attacking the barrack tomorrow night.”
He disbanded them; and they went home through fields and scrubs. They hurried in little groups across ditches and drains, and their conversation was passionate. Their hearts were so absorbed that they did not feel the exhaustion in their bones.
Two days later saw Eoin an Droighead more uneasy than ever before. He was in and out the door, and his red eyes were twice as red as ever before. He was whispering to himself. His bald patch was shining, and he was puffing breaths through his moustache. The Greasai Rua was watching him through the window, while at the same time going about his own business in his own shop.
“As true as God, Eoin is disturbed today,” he said to his wife. “He will explode with his rushing, if God hasn’t said it.”
“Don’t worry about him,” his wife said, “but she had to laugh after that when she saw the state of the man across the road.
Eoin went in behind the counter and he sat on the office stool that was beside the window. He began to chew tobacco and to watch the customers coming and going at the Co-operative shop. His own shelves were almost empty, and the grass was growing between the flags on the street. He might as well have had the shutters on the windows, but he wouldn’t satisfy the Co-operative shop or the people of Gleann Ceo. He had been the all powerful king of the Gleann for so long that it was difficult for him to admit that the day had come when his reign was over. However he decided that even though he had lost the crown he would keep the court open, in spite of the demons and the devil. He had plenty of the yellow gold put aside, and he had no worries.
Looking out of his window on this occasion, he saw two policemen from Ballinashee coming towards him across the Droighead. He got excited and he jumped up from the stool. The policemen bent their heads as they entered the front door.
“The police are here,” Eoin said, “when it is all over. Who ever saw them available when they were needed?”
“What is wrong with you now?” one man asked, “did they come upon you in the darkness of the night to take the stocking of gold from under your pillow?”
“No gold was taken from under my pillow,” Eoin said. “But if it was there it would have been taken, because I don’t believe that any crime would be too big for the pack of scoundrels who were here last night.”
“Are they doing that work here now?” asked the first man who was a rough looking lad, and whose speech was also crude.
“They are at this work, son, ” Eoin said. “They certainly are at this work, and why wouldn’t they be when they are allowed to practice drilling and any other devilment that they wish. Of course there is no sense in the work they are doing. Respectable people are not safe sitting at home by their own firesides. I was sitting by my own fireside here last night and I was after taking my feet out of my shoes before going up to bed, when that little knock came to the door, very politely. I thought it was a customer; because they don’t pass any heed of time on clocks in this Gleann. I went to the door in my socks, because my old lady was in bed and had her first hour sleep over. Barely had I the door opened son, than a crowd of men jumped on me. They had balaclavas, on their faces, son, and every single one of them had a gun. Aren’t they a bad lot altogether coming in on any Christian at midnight?”
“Did you recognise any one of them?” the second policeman asked, a refined ginger-haired man.
“I have my doubts about a few of them, but I couldn’t say for certain that I recognised any one of them just the same.” Eoin said. “Only one man spoke and I didn’t ever hear his voice before. He must have come in from the town.”
“It must have been your gun that they wanted,” the man with the coarse voice, said.
“That is what they wanted, son,” Eoin said. “But they were foolish to think that I would give my gun to them. My regret is that I did not know who was there before I opened the door. If I had known I would have put a few grains in the them from the top window.”
“You have it hidden?” the ginger-haired man said.
“It was in the place where I always keep it,” Eoin said, “up behind the ceiling in the kitchen. There is a little panel in the kitchen ceiling, and it would be a sharp- eyed person who would notice it. They searched the house from top to bottom, son; they ransacked presses, lockers, and beds; they ransacked the shop, the streets and the sheds; but not a one of them laid an eye on the panel in the ceiling. Come in, men, until you see it.”
Eoin let down the little panel in the ceiling, and he took out the double barrel gun.
“Now, men, wasn’t it nice of them? They had me with my back to the stairs and a gun stuck into my mouth; they had the whole place under their feet, son; and at the end of it all they weren’t able to see that little panel. It was God who blinded the blackguards-that is if there is a God at all in the next life. It is hard enough to believe when a mob of brats can come in the middle of the night and do anything they please to a respectable man who never did any harm to anyone in his whole life. I believe that they will be back again; but if they do there will be no guns for them because I am giving it to you now. Take it with you out across the mountain, and keep it until this uproar is over- that’s if it ever is over. How long will the British continue this work throughout the country? It is frightful the trouble they are causing for the poor police here and there. I see from today’s paper that they have penetrated a few more of them. Why do they not set the army on these bucks and finish them off in one week? Don’t they know that thy will not defeat the police?”
“We are not trying to avoid this,” the ginger haired man said; “but I believe it is ahead. They are talking about sending special police from England here to help us. Maybe we would be better off without them. As you said, Eoin, it is the soldiers by right who should face this mob.”
“It is to the absolute credit of the government not to expect the police to handle this by themselves,” the man with the rough voice said. “It i
s a war; and England does not want to admit that.”
“Devil the likes ever I saw,” Eoin said.
The first rays of dawn were shining on Sliabh an Iarann, when Marcus Mac Alastair reached his own front door at Dun le Grein. He was physically exhausted, which took a lot of concentration. He had his hand in his pocket to get the keys when the door opened gently for him.
“Triona, sister, are you up yet?” he said. “Why did you not go to bed, love?”
“In here with you,” she said, with that pleasant smile she had. “Don’t you know that I could not sleep and you outside on such an occasion? Give me that gun and throw off your big coat.”
She had a big fire burning in the parlour, and a dish of warm water for him to wash his feet.
“Sit down in that chair, love, “ she said, “you are dead. Your britches are torn, and your shoes dirty with mud, and your socks soaking. You won’t stop until you kill yourself, love.”
She pulled off his shoes and socks, she washed his feet and gave him a pair of dry socks. She went off with the socks and the dirty shoes, and returned with a glass of punch for him.
“Be drinking that,” she said, ”while I am getting you a bite to eat.” She returned with a tray on which was a meal that might be given to one before execution. She left it on a small table beside Marcus.
“I don’t know,” he said, “what I would do without you.”
“Leave the plamas behind you,” she said, “and tell me what happened. I saw the sky all lit up behind the mountain. I thought the whole of Ballinashee was on fire. Did you burn the barrack?”
“It is in a heap by now,” he said.
“I hope that no one was killed, love?” she said.
“Not a drop of blood was drawn,” he said,, there was no need for it, thanks be to God. We set the house on fire over their heads, and they walked out peacefully with their hands up.”
West, in the Foggy Valley Page 12