‘We have not been idle but must ask others to join us,’ Elizabeth said, taking out a sheet of paper and starting to write a list of names that they should each approach.
‘I have so enjoyed our visit,’ thanked Henrietta, as she and the children got ready to leave. It had turned bitterly cold outside so she buttoned up the children’s coats and wrapped their scarves around them tightly.
Elizabeth smiled. ‘You are welcome here any time.’
‘The next time, perhaps you will come and visit me. Though I’m afraid our home will certainly not be as quiet and peaceful as yours.’
‘I will look forward to it,’ said the rector’s wife graciously as she bid goodbye to Henrietta and the children.
‘Mama!’ called Harriet and Fanny excitedly, as they ran outside. ‘Look, it’s snowing!’
Snowflakes tumbled from the sky like feathers, whirling and swirling all around them. The children held out their hands to catch them as they walked back to New Street. The falling snow continued all through the long night and by morning had blanketed the streets and lanes, roads and fields and entire countryside with thick, deep, white cover.
CHAPTER 32
THE FALLEN SNOW LAY DEEP AND HEAVY ON THE GROUND. HENRIETTA laced up her boots and grabbed her heavy wool coat. She pulled on her hat, gloves and scarf as she set off to brave the elements, for there were some errands she needed to run.
The streets of Skibbereen were icy, and the hungry who were sheltering from the cold in doorways and gateways begged and pulled at every passer-by for food or money. A small group of them were hunkered down near the Donovans’ doorway.
‘Bit of food, ma’am, for the hungry?’ pleaded a stick-thin man with his wife and two boys.
‘I’m sorry but I have no food on me,’ she apologized, moved by their plight as she eased her way past them gently as they called after her. How these poor families could endure such weather, dressed only in tattered rags with their feet bare, shamed her. Dan was run ragged looking after such people day after day, and always showed such constant care and consideration for them that it made her love and admire him even more.
She had made a list, for she had to purchase some necessary household items. She would dearly love to order a new dress to see her through the winter and Christmas season but Dan, she knew, would not countenance such extravagance, especially in the face of the distress suffered by their fellow man.
As she had sorted through clothes to donate, she had realized that young Dan was in sore need of breeches, shirts and a new warm jacket, for he had outgrown his infant clothes and was becoming quite a little boy! Her husband could not expect her to dress their small son in the worn hand-me-downs of his two brothers.
She also needed desperately to purchase a book. She got bored being at home so much, and longed to read the latest work of Mr Dickens if it were available. She also was in need of writing paper and some ink of her own, for Dan was forever at his desk writing letters. She dearly wanted to correspond with her family and friends, and to hear some good news, if there were any.
Groups of the poor and hungry huddled together everywhere – in the doorway of the bank, outside the Becher Arms, near the brewery – trying to escape the bitter cold. A small boy tugged at her coat like a frightened sparrow. He held out the palm of his hand, too tired even to say a word. His face was covered with a downy layer of hair.
Poor child! She reached into her pocket and produced a penny, which she handed to him in silence, then watched him scurry away, no doubt to spend it immediately.
At the stationer’s she collected the new pen that she had ordered for Dan and some writing paper and ink. One part of the shop held newspapers, periodicals and a small display of books, which she browsed. There were a few of Maria Edgeworth’s books and she was drawn to the latest work of Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, which she decided to purchase. It would definitely hold her attention and might even interest Dan.
She then moved on to Hayes’ drapery on Main Street to purchase clothing for young Daniel: three pairs of breeches, three shirts, a warm navy wool coat, some undergarments and woollen socks.
‘A growing boy, Mrs Donovan.’ Mr Hayes laughed as he parcelled them up. ‘Anything that doesn’t fit the young lad, just return them and we’ll find something more suitable.’
Normally, Henrietta enjoyed looking around the shops, but it was far too cold to dawdle. She had just turned off Market Lane when she almost tripped over a woman sitting on the icy ground. The woman’s legs were outstretched and she held a baby in her arms. Dressed only in a threadbare shift, Henrietta could see her bare breasts and skinny torso, her shoulder bones and ribs clearly visible. Her legs were like mottled sticks, and her feet were swollen and dirty.
The baby lay crookedly in her arms, when the woman pitched forward suddenly. Overcome with pity, Henrietta rushed to prevent her from falling to the ground and tried to save the small baby that was wrapped in a filthy bit of blanket.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, alarmed by the woman’s condition.
The woman said nothing but leaned back and tried to straighten herself up.
‘I am weak with the hunger,’ she whispered.
Henrietta was filled with concern for her and was about to hand the child back when she realized how still it was. A terrible fear gripped her when she gazed down and saw that the small face was waxy, the skin almost translucent, with a blue sheen around its delicate lips and closed eyes. The child was stone cold, dead, all the life gone from it. No matter what Henrietta did, there was no saving this child.
The mother’s hands reached out for her baby and Henrietta passed her the infant. She felt a strange chill inside her own heart and did not know what to say to this poor mother. Was she aware of what had happened?
‘You must stay here,’ she begged the woman. ‘I am going to get some help for you.’
She took off so quickly that she nearly lost her footing on the ice.
All she wanted was to find Dan and get him to help this unfortunate woman and her child. She had no idea what to do but Dan would know. She gasped as she ran home, trying not to cry as she thought of the poor frozen baby.
Dan was sitting at his desk, writing, puzzled by her disturbance.
‘Dan, you must come with me quickly. Get your coat and hat!’ she pleaded. ‘There is a woman on the street with a dead child in her arms. We have to help her.’
In a matter of minutes Dan was making his way with Henrietta to the street where the woman still sat with her eyes closed, one hand outstretched, the child still in her arms.
‘I brought my husband,’ Henrietta explained.
‘I am a doctor,’ Dan said gently, kneeling down beside the woman. ‘This lady is my wife and she was concerned for your child. May I take a look, please?’
Wordlessly, the woman passed the bundle into Dan’s arms.
Dan looked carefully at the lifeless baby before turning his attention to the mother.
‘I’m afraid that your baby is very poorly and you yourself are very weak. The best thing I can advise is that you be admitted immediately to the Union workhouse. I am the medical officer there. I will arrange it. Have you any family?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone died these past weeks.’
‘As you are in a weakened state, I will fetch my horse and carriage and bring you myself.’
Tears of relief slid down the woman’s exhausted face and Henrietta tried to control her own emotions in the face of her husband’s kindness.
‘My wife will stay with you for a few minutes while I go and fetch it.’
Henrietta crouched beside the woman, aware that the few people who passed them averted their gaze as they did not want to be accosted or get involved. She unwound her own knitted scarf from her neck and arranged it gently around the woman’s shoulders, covering the child.
The day was growing ever colder. On Dan’s return she assisted him in helping the woman – who had told her that her name was
Catherine Driscoll – and her baby up into the carriage.
‘Will I come with you?’ Henrietta offered.
‘No, my dear, it is better you return home,’ Dan said softly. ‘I will take care of Mrs Driscoll and ensure that she is admitted and looked after.’
Back at home, Henrietta fed the children and, despite her worry and distraction, prepared them for bed. They said their prayers and she read a story to them from the Bible. The younger ones’ preference was for Noah’s ark or Daniel in the lions’ den. As she hugged their warm bodies, brushed their curling hair and tucked them in their beds, she prayed for God to keep all the children in the town safe and well that night.
‘How is Mrs Driscoll?’ she probed as Dan ate his meal that evening.
‘Poorly, for she has typhus.’
‘What about the baby?’
‘Nurse Lynch managed to get her to give up the infant. She told her that it was with the rest of her family in heaven.’
‘Oh, that poor woman. How could such a terrible thing happen, Dan?’
‘Please, my dear, you must not distress yourself.’
‘Of course I must distress myself. Witnessing what happened to that mother and her baby is something that I will never forget …’ She tried to keep the growing sense of hysteria she was feeling from her voice. ‘That woman lost her only living child.’
Dan ate his food slowly and meticulously.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I know this is what you see every day, but Dan, how can you bear it?’
‘Henrietta, it is my duty. And besides, I have you and the children to consider.’
As she lay in his arms before sleep, Daniel soothed his wife and tried to calm her fears.
‘Everything will be well soon,’ he promised, treating her like a child.
Her dreams that night were haunted by Catherine Driscoll and her baby, and she could not put them from her mind, despite her best efforts.
The following day she enquired about Mrs Driscoll’s health. Dan said little, only that she was ill in the fever ward. Three days later he broke the news that she had succumbed to typhus and would be buried with her child.
‘You mean they will both be in the pit in Abbeystrewery graveyard?’ Henrietta demanded angrily.
‘Yes, such are the daily burials,’ he said quietly. ‘But take comfort in the fact that they are both united in the afterlife, away from this torment.’
‘It is small comfort, Dan, for I would far prefer to see her happy with her child, walking the streets of Skibbereen with her head held high, than lying in that cold place.’
That afternoon she lay down on their bed and cried, pulling the blankets around her as the snow began to fall again. A deep weariness possessed her, which she could not shake off and so gave in to sleep.
Hours later she awoke from her slumber. She had slept for so long that she had missed tea and putting the children to bed. She chastised herself! How could she do such a thing when she was a strong young woman, with a husband and family who needed her? Dan deserved a better wife, one who was resolute and steady, who could be relied upon and who would be a constant support to him and his work.
She stretched and got up, re-buttoned her dress and fixed her dark wavy hair. She dabbed a little lavender water on her wrists and neck before slipping on her shoes and making her way downstairs to join her husband who was sitting at the fire.
‘I told Sally to tend to the children and let you rest,’ he said gently.
His kindness near overwhelmed her and she felt close to tears again.
‘It’s all right, Hetty dearest.’ Dan got up and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I am here with you, and I promise that you have nothing to fear. I will always guard and protect you and our children.’
She could hear in his voice the care, concern and love that had always been between them. Without a word, Henrietta found herself sitting beside him, her head on his shoulder, watching the flames flicker in the grate.
‘I am better now,’ she said a long while later.
‘Good,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘For you know that I cannot bear to see you so upset.’
CHAPTER 33
December 1846
DAN GAZED OUT THE WINDOW OF THE OFFICE BESIDE THE MILL. THE crowds below, like pale ghosts, struggled in the snow and icy conditions to reach the soup kitchen.
‘God help them, for this is the worst winter in my memory!’ Henry Marmion lamented as the relief committee gathered for its regular Monday meeting.
‘It is hard to believe that we are already feeding between a thousand and fifteen hundred people a day,’ reported John Clerke, the bank manager. ‘The costs, as you can imagine, are enormous, and the numbers taking the soup continue to grow. We have decided to issue tickets that are to be used at different times of the day, which will make controlling such large numbers easier. Reverend Trench has also asked us to order two more boilers. Fortunately, we are receiving donations from generous-hearted Englishmen and a few charitable organizations, but we still need to raise far more money if we are to continue …’
The rest of the committee nodded in agreement.
‘We must congratulate Reverend Townsend on his successful visit to London, which has already borne fruit.’ Thomas Somerville smiled. ‘The food depot in town has just opened and will remain open three days a week, while all other depots are to remain closed until after Christmas.’
‘Reverend Caulfield and I did our best to inform those whom we met of the terrible conditions that prevail here,’ Reverend Townsend admitted modestly. ‘We had a good hearing with Mr Trevelyan, but he gave us little indication of his thoughts. However, his recent decision to divert a portion of the money due to Ceylon to aid the destitute here instead is most welcome. Apparently, the Queen has also indicated her intention to write a letter of appeal in the coming weeks to raise funds for her starving subjects.’
‘We are very appreciative, Reverend,’ thanked the chairman. ‘You have done much to help the cause of Skibbereen and her people.’
Two days later, as he was about to leave the dispensary, Dan was appalled to see at least three hundred starving men from the roadworks out by Lisheen, marching along the street in the freezing snow, demanding payment for their work. Most were severely emaciated, shivering with the cold and begging like some spectral army.
‘Issue them each with a ticket for the soup kitchen,’ he ordered the dispensary clerk, as he led the men to the mill where they were admitted immediately and served a pint of warm soup and a large portion of bread.
The local Board of Works commissioner and his man finally appeared and tried to appease the men with the promise of payment in a few days’ time.
‘They should hang their heads in shame,’ Tim McCarthy Downing sighed as they watched the commissioner try to squirm his way out of responsibility for the men’s poor treatment.
‘It’s the bureaucracy and ineptitude of those running the scheme that is to blame!’ Dan raged, unable to hide his anger.
On the recommendation of Dan’s cousin Michael Galwey, Nicholas Cummins, a justice of the peace from Cork, had asked if he could accompany Dan on a few visits to his patients. He wanted to assess the true state of affairs in West Cork and, if necessary, report on it.
‘Dr Donovan, I have heard stories of terrible deprivation among the people here, which if they were true shame our government and officials,’ he explained. ‘Yet others say such claims are exaggerated. It behoves those of us in a position of influence to make our own investigation of such matters.’
‘I have my rounds to do, Mr Cummins. You are welcome to come with me,’ agreed Dan, ‘but I must remind you that my duty is to my patients.’
It was clear that Nicholas Cummins was well intentioned, for only the day before he had visited the little village of South Reen.
‘I brought loaves of bread for the people but the place seemed deserted. I went into what appeared an empty cabin only to discover six skeletons lying on the floor. I p
resumed the family were dead, until I heard moaning.’ His voice began to shake. ‘They were all sick with fever, Dr Donovan, and it was the same in one cabin after another.’
‘It is a frightening thing to see,’ Dan sympathized, ‘but I’m afraid fever is rampant.’
‘Then a gang of nearly two hundred starved, crazed creatures appeared, grabbing at me and pulling at my clothes. I tell you, I was lucky to escape them!’
Dan could see Mr Cummins was still deeply shocked by what he had seen.
As they walked around Skibbereen, Dan pointed out the corpse of a girl that had been dragged out of a cabin and into the street by her sick mother. It lay there, half covered with stones.
‘She will be buried later in Abbeystrewery,’ he reassured the justice of the peace.
They visited cabin after cabin of the sick and dying, finally stopping at one near the town’s cavalry station. Dan warned Mr Cummins to stay at the door. Inside, seven people lay together under a cloak, a young man among them already dead, but the others near death and too weak to move.
‘I will arrange to transfer the sick to the fever sheds in the workhouse,’ Dan said quietly as he came back outside, for he could see his companion was deeply upset.
‘I had never imagined such things in a Christian country,’ Mr Cummins declared fervently as Dan finished his rounds. ‘It’s disgraceful and shames us that people are left to suffer like this. But I promise you, doctor, that I will endeavour to alert those in a position of influence to the horrific state of affairs here.’
Much to the surprise of the committee, only a few days before Christmas they received a visit from the Assistant Commissary-General, Mr Inglis.
‘He’s been sent by Randolph Routh himself to meet with us and to help us organize a plan for the relief of Skibbereen,’ explained Thomas Somerville.
Mr Inglis could not hide his dismay at the scenes that greeted him, not only at the soup kitchen but on every street corner and lane. The committee members were more than pleased when, before his departure, he pledged eighty-five pounds towards the running of the soup kitchen, as it was the first government assistance they had received!
The Hungry Road Page 11