The Exile Breed

by Charles Egan

  ‘Yes, and fever-ridden too,’ Doyle answered. ‘And working for a shilling a day. And you know what that does to us? Here we are, working for four shillings a day. The contractors keep asking us why we can’t stop working as a butty gang, and work for a shilling a day instead. They know damned well what kind of work they’d get from us for that kind of wage though. Still, it’s hard competing with fellows who’ve been used to working for nothing at all back in County Mayo. Slavery, I’d call it.’

  Gilligan stood.

  ‘Enough of that. It’s not them fellows we should be thinking of. The Master is here, and we need a man like him. Ye all know that.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d be so good at hard labour myself,’ Murty said.

  ‘Arra, it won’t be difficult,’ Gilligan said. ‘You’re a strong enough man.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be up to the likes of you young fellows, though.’

  ‘Sure you’ll do some. And anyhow, it isn’t that we’re talking about, is it? It’s all this paper that’s drowning us. We need a man like you for that. Then the rest of us can do the hard work, and get more hardworking fellows on the gang from Kilduff, Carrigard and around. And to hell with those fellows from West Mayo.’

  ‘And what of this fellow here?’ Higgins interrupted. ‘Murtybeg, he’ll work with us too?’

  ‘I wish he would,’ Murty replied, ‘but he’s got a mind of his own.’

  Murtybeg looked up at them all. ‘It’s kind of ye to offer it,’ he said, ‘but I’m working with Danny now, part of the business. I’ll take my chances with him for now.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Doyle answered, ‘but if you change your mind, let us know. We’ve a powerful need for strong fellows on the gang here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Higgins said, ‘and we want only the best. Kilduff and around. The men we know.’

  Over the next few hours, Murty and Murtybeg visited the site with Gilligan.

  ‘It’s mainly the Lancashire Yorkshire and the Manchester Leeds lines we’re working on,’ Gilligan told them. ‘The main lines have both been completed, but it’s all the branches off them now that we’re building, linking up with the smaller towns and tying one railway with another. There’s plenty of work for years to come around Bradford and Leeds.’

  They returned to the lodging house for a good dinner of steak and potatoes. Gilligan proposed terms of employment to Murty, and this was voted on over the table, with all in favour.

  They spent that night in a spare room at the lodging house. They rose before dawn, and Gilligan walked them back to Leeds station, carefully avoiding Kirkgate.

  At the station, they shook hands.

  ‘We’ll all be looking forward to having you as one of the gang,’ Gilligan said to Murty.

  ‘I’ll need time, Joe. It’s not that I’m undecided, but I’ve got Aileen to think of. Danny too. Give it a week.’

  They shook hands with Gilligan, and returned to Stockport.

  Other matters arose, when Winrow requested Danny’s presence for an urgent meeting.

  When he arrived at the bank, he was ushered into a large office, where Winrow introduced him to two bank directors. Danny began to lay out his cash position on the various sites, but Winrow waved it aside impatiently.

  ‘We can discuss those some other time. In the meantime, we’d like to discuss another contract with you.’

  ‘Which one?’ Danny asked, though he was beginning to suspect he already knew.

  ‘The Ormskirk Cutting on the East Lancashire line. You had already done costings on it?’

  ‘I had. Preliminary only. You did request though that we not proceed on it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Winrow replied. ‘At the time, we thought the Brassey contract was a large one for you, and any more would stretch Edwardes & Ryan beyond what might be acceptable in terms of risk. But from what you say, the Brassey contract is going well, as well as your other contracts.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Danny said, wondering how Winrow could have known that, since he had not even looked through the accounts Danny had brought with him. ‘I’d be delighted to go ahead with it, if you wish to lend on it.’

  ‘So what was your borrowing requirement for it?’

  ‘Three thousand pounds. That of course would be on a rolling basis, to be run down to nil at the end of the contract.’

  He was beginning to suspect that Roscoe had been correct about Baxendales. Were they bankrupt?

  Winrow was speaking again.

  ‘Perhaps if I could ask you to submit detailed costings for this contract, on the basis that we are inclined to go ahead with the loan.’

  ‘I’d be delighted, of course,’ Danny said. ‘I had understood though that the Ormskirk contract had already been awarded to another company.’

  ‘Rumours only,’ Winrow said, impatiently. ‘The question is, do you wish to bid for this contract? If so, the bank will most likely support you.’

  Yes, Danny thought. Baxendales are gone.

  *

  When he left the bank, he walked towards Manchester Piccadilly Station.

  The city was in turmoil.

  First, he saw debris all over the road. Then he came on a crowd of hundreds of young men, yelling at the police, and hurling bricks and stones.

  The police were preparing for a baton charge. Danny ran out of the way, and stood back into a crowded doorway, where others sheltered from the batons and bricks.

  The police charged, but they were driven back under a shower of bricks, followed by a mob wielding sticks and metal bars. Danny realised he was now trapped.

  There was a woman beside him, carrying a baby.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Danny asked.

  ‘There’s fighting all over the city. They’ve been attacking the mills. Kelly & Gilmours. Kennedys over in Ancoats Street. Clark’s too. They’ve been stoning the courts all day. Tried to burn the Workhouse…’

  Police reinforcements had arrived. Danny watched as they charged again, batons slashing wildly. This time the mob broke, screaming as they ran.

  ‘They’re rough, the police,’ Danny said.

  ‘Nothing like Peterloo,’ the woman said. ‘The dragoons used sabres then. We wouldn’t run before wooden sticks at Peterloo.’

  ‘Peterloo? But when…?’

  ‘Thirty years ago.’

  ‘Before my time, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I was only six myself. But even a child remembers the sight of blood.’

  Danny was startled.

  ‘I’ve heard of Peterloo,’ he said, ‘but never spoken to anyone who was there.’

  ‘You never had much interest in it neither, I’d warrant.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said.

  ‘Well, let me tell you, the times were just like this. Thousands out of work and starving, right across Manchester. Then the political fellows came to talk to us. A peaceful meeting. The powers-that-be could have left it at that. They could have let us all finish with it, and go to our homes. But no, they wouldn’t have that. They had to send in the dragoons with their sabres. The Manchester & Salford Yeomanry, no less. Brave men they were, cutting down innocent men and women.’

  The Manchester & Salford, Danny was thinking. He tried to imagine Winrow as a dragoon, but the idea was too ridiculous.

  There was a hail of stones, from a different direction now. Some hit the people in the doorway. Instinctively, Danny pulled the woman and child down, and sheltered them behind his coat. After a minute, he looked out. The mob were retreating before another police charge.

  ‘You’re safe now,’ he said.

  She stood up. ‘And I must thank you for that,’ she said, ‘but I’m wondering what your accent is? I think it’s part Irish.’

  ‘It is,’ Danny said. ‘I was born here, though.’ He was lying, but there was no need to upset this woman.

  ‘Of an Irish mother and father, I’d say.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said.

  ‘Well I won’t blame you so. This whole mob, it’s the I
rish they’re rioting against. There’s thousands of English men and women out of work in the mills and on the railways. And do you know why? It’s because the Irish come in and work for nothing at all. It’s not that I’d blame them either, it’s the mill owners and the railway contractors, getting in starving Irish people to steal our jobs. They’re the guilty ones, the ones who bring hunger and rioting to Manchester.’

  The mob was more distant now.

  ‘I think it’s safe to go,’ Danny said.

  They stepped out of the shelter of the doorway.

  ‘I must thank you, Sir,’ she said. ‘You protected me and the baby, when we needed it. Irish or not, you are a gentleman.’

  Then she left.

  Danny made his way to Piccadilly Station and home to Stockport.

  The family were at dinner when he returned.

  ‘You’ve heard about the riots?’ Murtybeg asked.

  ‘Heard about them? I was right in the middle of one of them.’

  ‘A big mob, was it?’

  ‘Hundreds, but the police were well able to deal with them.’

  An excited conversation began around the dinner table, as everyone exchanged rumours and opinions about the riots, but Danny was only half listening. In his mind, he could still see the woman and baby, and what, to him, was a picture of innocence and helplessness.

  But he was a railway contractor, and there were things that could never be.

  After dinner, he discussed the Winrow meeting with Irene.

  She did not seem surprised.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you we’d be offered the Ormskirk contract again?’

  ‘You did,’ he answered. ‘What else could they do when Baxendales went bankrupt?’

  ‘But no one else knows that. What did the bank say about them?’

  ‘Nothing. Baxendales was never mentioned, neither by them nor by me. They offered me the loan for Ormskirk, but wouldn’t discuss the original contractor.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘Now, from here on, we can be sure that Ormskirk is ours. It’s exactly like Nick Roscoe said. Mackenzie is under desperate pressure to complete it. Now, with Baxendales gone, he’ll be months behind, and we’re the ones who can do it fastest. They know that, and so do the Manchester & Salford. And if there were to be any further delay, Mackenzie will sue.’

  ‘Starting with Baxendales, no doubt.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but they’re bankrupt, and it’s doubtful they’ll pay out more than a shilling in the pound. So there’s only one other company they can sue for this delay. Which is…’

  ‘The Manchester & Salford Bank.’

  ‘Exactly. They’re in trouble, Winrow is in trouble, and we’re the only ones who can pull the fat out of the fire for them.’

  Danny was still concerned about the general prospects for Edwardes & Ryan. He found it hard to accept Irene’s logic on the business. They were caught between enormous opportunity and enormous risk. Yes, many of the railways were pushing for rapid completion on contracts so as to open long sections of rail to traffic. Equally though, there were suspensions on the railways all around them.

  There was great opportunity too in driving down prices of supplies. Danny wondered though how long this could continue, and what might happen if suppliers went bankrupt. Cash on delivery meant there was no financial risk to Edwardes & Ryan, but if a supplier stopped trading, could he be replaced in time?

  And the banks? The Manchester & Salford was desperately important to them now. Yes, they had to lend to Edwardes & Ryan because of the consequences to the bank if they did not. But what would happen if the bank itself went bankrupt? The Royal Bank of Liverpool had been thought to be indestructible. Was the Manchester & Salford solid? Would any other banks lend to an unknown employer of Irish labour?

  But were they unknown? Working for Brassey – that had startled many of the other labour contractors. It was desperately important to finish his contract on time and on budget. Now Irene reckoned they had wider opportunities. The Ormskirk Cutting meant working with Mackenzie too. That put Edwardes & Ryan at the top table. High level contracts, low wages, low supply prices. The future was open, but it was terribly risky.

  *

  The next week was a busy one for him. He travelled to Ormskirk to get more detailed information on the site. Afterwards, he hand-delivered detailed costings to the bank. Next day, the letter confirming the loan was hand-delivered to his office.

  On an impulse, he decided to travel to Mackenzie’s Manchester office, and was not surprised when he was invited in at once. What did surprise him was that the East Lancashire line was being built jointly by Mackenzie and Brassey. The office manager was well aware of Danny’s work for Brassey on the North Staffordshire.

  They spent an hour going through the contract. Then Danny was asked to bid. He decided to add two hundred pounds to what he and Irene had already agreed. His bid was accepted at once, and a contract was drawn up and signed.

  He returned to Stockport.

  ‘That’s splendid,’ Irene exclaimed. ‘More profitable than ever. And now we’re working with the two top contractors in England. The future is open.’

  And it only got better.

  One day, Danny received a letter from Roy Anderson, requesting a meeting. They met in the Midland Hotel in Manchester.

  ‘I’ve another contract for you, Danny,’ Anderson said. ‘And it’s urgent. You’ve heard about Baxendales?’

  ‘I’ve heard rumours,’ Danny answered.

  ‘Seems the rumours are true. Baxendales are bankrupt, which creates a hell of a problem for the railway and the bank. They’ve a site out by one of yours.’

  ‘I know, Jamesy McManus is running it for me. You might know that we’ve had problems there. Rioting between our fellows and Baxendales.’

  ‘Well, you won’t have problems there anymore. Can you take over the Baxendales site? Perhaps we could do it together, splitting profits half and half.’

  ‘Of course.’

  That afternoon, Danny travelled out to see McManus. The two men stood together, watching the navvies streaming out of the Baxendales site.

  ‘No point in going in there ’till they’re gone,’ McManus said. ‘They’d only kill us.’

  It was late in the afternoon before the site was totally empty. Danny spent the last hours before sunset, measuring out the site with McManus, estimating the remaining cubic yards to be excavated until he felt he had a good understanding of it.

  That evening, over dinner, Irene was elated.

  ‘Our first competitor gone,’ she said. ‘Didn’t I tell you we could pick up bankrupt contracts?

  ‘You did,’ he said. ‘It’s just like on the Ormskirk. Now Roy needs us. Otherwise the Railway has a logjam on the line. We’ve done the costings already, we know what’s involved. And we’re just beside them, it’s only an extension to our site.’

  The next morning, he and Irene went through the figures. When they were happy, Danny met with Anderson again, and after they added an amount for Andersons, and two fair copies had been made out by the clerk, they sent a copy to the railway contractor’s office. A week later, Anderson wrote to Danny, saying their bid had been accepted.

  ‘Nothing can stop us now,’ Irene said.

  ‘It’s like I told you before,’ Danny said. ‘We make one hell of a team, the pair of us.’

  ‘And isn’t it time we made it more lasting. We’ll have to set a date for a wedding and tell everyone.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for July, so. That should be good timing.’

  ‘Why July?’

  ‘We’ll have finished the Brassey contract by then.’

  A few days later, Danny was startled to be told that Inspector Crawford was looking for him.

  ‘Show him into the living room,’ he said, irritably.

  He and Irene descended the stairs. ‘What in hell does he want this time?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Whatever it is, I doubt it’s going to be good
.’

  Crawford was standing as they entered. Danny waved him to an armchair, and they all sat. Danny smiled. ‘Well, Inspector, I hope it’s good news you’re bringing this time.’

  ‘The worst,’ Crawford replied. ‘I’ve just had news in from one of your sites. Your ganger – Mr. McManus – has been killed.’

  ‘Jamesy,’ Danny gasped. ‘Killed!’

  ‘Shot in the back with a shotgun. Died in minutes. Another murder case, I’m afraid. The second on your site.’

  Danny could hardly speak with the shock of it.

  ‘But…why?’ he asked. ‘Why…?’

  Irene spoke for him.

  ‘You must understand, this is terrible news for us, Inspector. Mr. McManus had been a close friend, and we had not been expecting this. Have you been able to make an arrest?’

  ‘I’m afraid by the time I got to the site, there was no sign of the killer. He would hardly wait around, would he?’

  ‘But surely you have some idea of the motive?’ she asked.

  ‘We can’t be certain,’ he answered, ‘but there is one very obvious possibility. He was killed in revenge for Eckersley’s murder.’

  ‘Does that mean that the killer thought Mr. McManus was behind Eckersley’s murder?’ she asked.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ the Inspector replied. ‘But he was the nearest and most senior victim, though, as you might know yourself, there was more to Mr. McManus than meets the eye. We’ve been watching him for a long time.’

  Danny was more alarmed than ever.

  ‘But why?’ he asked.

  ‘He was a known member of the Molly Maguire gang.’

  ‘But…the Molly Maguires? They’re all back in Ireland.’

  ‘Most are,’ Crawford responded. ‘All up the north west. Including Mayo, where Mr. McManus was from. You too, I believe.’

  ‘What? You’re not suggesting…’

  He realised at once that was the wrong thing to say.

  ‘Not necessarily, Mr. Ryan, though I can say at this stage the enquiry is open. It’s quite possible – likely even – that Mr. McManus killed Mr. Eckersley, or at least ordered it. But even if he did, the question is, who ordered him? We know the Molly Maguire gang are well established in Liverpool. They’re in the process of establishing themselves in Manchester too. Clearly we can no longer question Mr. McManus, but what we really want to know is this. Who was his chief? Bodymaster, as they call it. Yes, Mr. Ryan, there is one mastermind controlling the gang in Manchester. We do not yet know who he is, though we have our suspicions. And we will get him, have no doubt about that.’