A Pocket Full of Shells

by Jean Reinhardt

  James offered her one of his cakes but the woman shook her head.

  “I better not, I don’t feel too well and it would be an awful waste to throw good food up over the side, wouldn’t it?”

  Michael stepped back pulling James with him which made her laugh.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not the fever. I’m just seasick. My husband fished for years and brought me out on occasion when the sea was calm. It didn’t make any difference.”

  She pointed to a line of people leaning over the side and emptying what little there was in their stomachs into the choppy sea.

  “At least I’m not as bad as that. Maybe it’s because I have these two wee ones to care for and can’t afford to get sick.”

  “Thanks for the advice about the lodgings, did your husband find a decent place in the end?” asked James.

  “He did, or we wouldn’t be joining him. Avoid the Scotland and Vauxhall Road areas. They are the worst with more disease and poverty packed into one place than you ever saw in your life. Anywhere outside of those would be safe enough. We are going to share a small house with my husband’s cousin and his family. In time we should be able to get a place of our own. Getting some schooling for the children is important too, would you agree?”

  James smiled and said, “My father went to a hedge school and told me he was always freezing in the winter, having to learn to read and write in a ditch. When a school was permitted to open only a mile from our house, he made sure myself and my sisters attended. My older brothers were all working so I was the only son in our family that got an education. Even after the death of our parents, when I was very young, my sisters dragged me to school with them. As soon as I reached the age of ten I put my foot down and refused to go. I told them I was ready to work in the fields alongside the other men. I’m sorry now I didn’t stay a bit longer – it would have made me a better reader.”

  “Figures are what’s important, never mind letters. You can put a cross where your name needs to go but if you can’t count your change then you are in big trouble,” Michael said.

  “I suppose you’re right about that. Neither myself nor my husband can read or write but nobody can short change us, that’s for sure,” agreed the woman.

  Someone shouted they could see land and James and Michael, excusing themselves, went to the bow to get a glimpse of their destination.

  Sailing into such a huge port full of ships and boats of all shapes and sizes was overwhelming for the two young men. Their eyes darted from one thing to another as they nudged elbows and pointed fingers at each new sight. It took a few minutes for James to actually see the people teaming on the docks like ants.

  “Have you ever seen that many people in one place before, Michael?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact I have – even more. Daniel O’Connell came to Dundalk about five years ago. New Year’s Day, 1842, to be exact. I thought I would never in my life see a bigger crowd than the one that gathered for that. Sixty or seventy thousand turned up.”

  “I can’t imagine a bigger crowd than that.” James said looking down on the people bustling around the quay as their boat docked.

  “I can, easily,” said Michael feeling like a man of the world. “In June of the following year he came to Castletown and my father brought me there to hear him speak. They say he spoke to a gathering of three hundred thousand that day, me included.”

  James was impressed, this was a side of his friend he hadn’t seen before.

  “So you will be well used to making your way through a crowd. I don’t need to worry about us getting lost or robbed, do I?”

  Michael laughed at that.

  “As long as I’m sober, we’ll be fine. Just don’t let me drink too much, I can’t handle it. My father practically carried me the two miles home from Dundalk the first time we heard O’Connell speak. I was only seventeen and it being New Year’s Day as well, sure the drink was flowing, though mostly among the younger men.”

  Before anyone could leave the boat James saw two men come on board. One of them carried a black doctor’s bag and went below deck with some of the crew. A little while later three bodies were brought up. The anxious crowd, waiting to disembark, separated to form a passageway allowing the stretcher bearers to pass through. As a heavy silence hung in the air, James became aware of the different sounds coming from the docks below; horses, people, the squeak of pulleys hoisting cargo. It seemed like he was in the middle of a dream as he watched the stretchers move slowly past him.

  The silence was suddenly cut with a cry he had heard before. It was the same sound Mary had made when she saw her mother’s body on the cart. A shiver went down his spine. The doctor came up on deck and stood to one side of the gangplank, calling forward the crew carrying one last stretcher. On it were two tiny bodies wrapped in white sheets. James gasped as he saw a small flat cake, grasped tight by a little hand, sticking out from beneath one of the covers. Two women followed the stretcher, sobbing and holding onto each other, a young boy between them trying to keep up, buried in their skirts.

  A lump like a rock had formed in James’s throat. He fought back tears, thinking of his own daughter and how vulnerable she was.

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked.

  James nodded, forcing himself to swallow.

  “I was thinking of Catherine. I can’t imagine what that little girl’s father will feel like when he finds out. It would kill me.”

  “Do you think it was the fever, or the hunger?” asked Michael.

  James sighed deeply.

  “Both,” he said, “If there was no starvation there would be no fever. She wouldn’t even be on this crowded vessel if her father could have stayed at home.”

  Nobody was allowed onshore until the doctor had examined their throats. One by one, the passengers filed past him as he looked into their mouths. Every now and again someone would have to stand to one side, denied permission to leave the boat. James and Michael stepped ashore, joining the crowd of hungry, ragged people who had crossed the Irish Sea hoping for something better. For some, that did happen, but for others it was a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  CHAPTER 9

  What had been a constant drizzle became a heavy downpour. James and Michael found themselves taking shelter in an overcrowded, derelict building. Babies were crying and old people lay on the damp floor, too exhausted to sit upright. The wind forced the rain in through the empty door and window frames and people huddled together, trying to stay dry. A young couple sat on the floor, their backs against the cold stone wall, with a small child on each lap. Their clothing thin and ragged. James was troubled by the sight of the young children shivering. He removed his coat, handing it to the father.

  “Wrap this around your family it will help keep them warm. I can share my friend’s coat.”

  As he sat on the floor, James put his hands over his face, trying to block out the misery surrounding him.

  “You can’t help everyone. In the end all we can do is help ourselves. What good will it do your family if you get sick? How are you going to stay warm now?” asked Michael, taking his coat off to share it with James.

  “I know, I know. It just isn’t possible to see all this suffering and not be affected by it. How do you do it, Michael?”

  “Do you think I don’t care? Of course I do, but I have my own family to think of. They are depending on me to provide for them. They will end up in the workhouse if anything happens to me. So I can’t afford the luxury of sympathy right now, James, and you need to toughen up or you will be no good to anybody.”

  This was the first time Michael had ever felt anger towards his friend.

  “Pat and Annie will look after our families, they promised,” said James.

  “Your uncle is a fisherman, how many of his friends have drowned over the years? It could be his turn next,” said Michael.

  James grabbed his friend by the neck of his shirt and pulled his face close.

  “Don’t even thin
k that, you should know better than to tempt fate,” he said, fighting the urge to throw a punch.

  Realizing he had gone too far, James released his grip and Michael moved away, letting his coat slip down onto the cold, damp floor. An uncomfortable silence filled the gap between them until James put out his hand and asked to be forgiven for the harsh words he had spoken. After a few seconds, Michael smiled and firmly shook his hand.

  “We are both tired and hungry. Apology accepted.”

  The coat was pulled up and the two young men tried to get whatever sleep they could, under the circumstances.

  As the weak light of morning crept into the building, people stood up stiffly and stretched. The young father approached James holding out his coat.

  “Thank you for your kindness,” he said.

  “I think you should keep it, for your children.” James replied.

  “They won’t need it where they are going. The workhouse provides clothing as well as shelter. It’s just a temporary measure until I get work. These derelict buildings breed disease. My family will be better off there for a while.”

  He walked back to his wife, lifted up the smallest child, and took hold of the other little one’s hand. The young family walked out into the cold, morning air without a backward glance.

  “At least you got your coat back,” Michael said.

  Thousands of Irish were pouring into Liverpool. Many had just walked away from their homes, with nothing left to lose. Others had been evicted, sometimes having their passage paid by landlords anxious to clear their land of tenants who couldn’t keep up with the rent. Some headed for Liverpool in the hopes of earning enough money there to take them on to America. Often they never made it out of Liverpool, even when they found work. All their money went on lodgings and food, with nothing left to save.

  “When will Brigid’s mother and the girls be finished work?” asked James.

  They had arranged to meet up with them in a park later that day.

  “They have every Sunday afternoon off and when the weather is dry they get together for a walk in the fresh air.” Michael sniffed as he spoke, “Not that you would call this fresh.”

  Having walked for hours around the city the young men realized how difficult it would be for them to find any kind of permanent work. Anyone they spoke to advised them to move on or go home. Quite a few said Manchester was promising. James and Michael talked it over while sitting in the park, waiting for the women to show up. By the time they had arrived the decision had been made to move on to Durham and join James’s brothers.

  Brigid’s sisters and her mother had brought jars of tea wrapped in a cloth, fresh bread, cooked beef and some cake with them.

  “One of the cooks took pity on you when we told her who we were meeting,” Michael’s mother-in-law said.

  “Tell her she’s an angel,” said James, “This is a banquet.”

  The two men ate hungrily, but the women would only have tea, advising them to spare out the food and make it last for a day or two. James agreed, though Michael wanted to wolf down the lot. Brigid’s mother wrapped up what was left of the meal in the cloth and handed it to James. She took a key from her pocket and put it in Michael’s hand.

  “The gardener is away until tomorrow morning and he is the only person who would use this key. There is a shed against the back wall of the garden, in among the shrubs. When it gets dark, climb over and let yourselves in. You will have to be gone by six in the morning, but don’t worry as I am up from half past five. I can easily slip out and wake you.”

  Brigid’s youngest sister had become very friendly with the son of a barge owner. She had arranged some work for them loading cargo but it was only for a day.

  “Anything is welcome, there’s no work to be had here,” said James.

  He told them of their decision to join his brothers in Durham, as they might have better luck there.

  Brigid’s mother was glad to hear it, assuring the young men that as long as they were with family things would work out. That had been the case with her own girls. Every Sunday they all got to see each other and it eased the homesickness for them. As darkness began to fall, James suggested they walk the women home. Michael linked his mother-in-law, telling her all about her grandson and what a good mother Brigid was.

  “Annie and Pat are looking out for them, so you mustn’t worry and when I manage to get some work we won’t have any problem paying the rent. The house will be waiting for you when you return home.”

  Having said their goodbyes, the men took a walk down by the docks to pass the time, until they could sneak into the shed. The lights and laughter of the taverns drew them to look in through the windows, but they had no money to waste on drink. Women came up to the young men offering to show them around and give them a good time, asking if they had just come off the boats. Michael stared at them with his mouth open, amazed at their forwardness.

  James pulled him away chiding, “Stop drooling, you’re a married man.”

  “I know, and none of them are a patch on my Brigid, are they?” Michael said, proudly.

  “Nor on Mary,” said James, still pulling his friend by the arm, “Let’s get back to our little shed, we have an early start in the morning.”

  A tapping on the door woke James and he turned the key in the lock. Brigid’s mother stepped inside.

  “Michael, get up. You will have to leave now in case the gardener decides to start earlier than usual. I could lose my job over this.”

  “We know, you took a big risk and we are very grateful,” James said.

  Michael kissed her on the cheek and wished her a good morning. His mother-in-law grabbed hold of his hand and pressed some coins wrapped in a piece of paper, into his palm. Both men began to protest.

  “Me and the girls want you both to have this. I didn’t give it to you last night in case you might be tempted to have a drink. The taverns here are not exactly Paddy Mac’s now, are they? Have you seen the women who drink in them?”

  James and Michael exchanged glances as Brigid’s mother swept past, urging them to hurry up and climb over the wall.

  “Don't throw away the paper, the name of the barge owner is on it, just show it to one of the shopkeepers near the canal and they will tell you where he is docked. He will be expecting you.”

  Hugging her one last time, they disappeared over the wall. She wiped a stream of hot, salty tears from her face before turning back towards the big house.

  CHAPTER 10

  The owner of the barge was happy to have two strong, young men to help him, being short-handed for the trip to Leeds. They wanted to get to the east coast, so it suited everyone all round. James shook hands with the man and enquired as to when they should start.

  “Right away,” he said. “See that cart full of sacks of cotton, it needs loading.”

  Michael and James had removed their coats even before the sentence was finished.

  “Well, that’s what I like to see, a bit of enthusiasm about the job,” said Matthew, the barge owner. He gave them instructions as to how the sacks should be stacked and covered, then watched for a while to make sure it was done correctly.

  “You look quite capable of managing that on your own, if you need me I will be doing a bit of business in The Grape over there.” He pointed to a tavern near the lock and walked towards it.

  The young men enjoyed the work and by midday the cargo was loaded. Impressed with their speed and teamwork, Matthew asked if they would like to make the trip to Leeds and back. He had a consignment of coal to collect on his return to Liverpool.

  “Is Leeds near Sunderland, by any chance?” asked James.

  “A lot nearer than here, that’s for sure. Why do you ask?”

  “I have family there and we want to join them if we cannot get regular work here. We can load up the coal for you in Leeds, if that’s any help,” said James.

  Matthew thought for a moment.

  “I wish I could give you something more permanent but my son ne
eds the work, it’s him and his cousin you are filling in for today. At least you can get the transport and earn a little money on the trip. I will even throw in your meals, how does that sound to you?”

  The young men beamed and thanked him for the offer.

  Because James had grown up on a farm, he was well able to help out with the horse that pulled the barge. The hot food gave the hungry young men a boost of energy that kept them working all day. No job was too difficult for them, even repairing some damage that had been done to the barge, a task that the owner’s son had begun but never finished. Matthew was impressed and said so.

  “We are both fishermen, well used to looking after a boat,” James explained.

  Matthew still had to work with the horse, knowing the canal and its difficult areas, but the two young men were quick learners and made the journey much easier for him. They even insisted on sleeping with the cargo to guard it during the night. Matthew had a collie that would wake them if anyone even walked past the barge.

  “One of you could sleep in my son’s bunk. Why not take turns on watch?” Matthew suggested.

  James said he would sleep up top for the first night so Michael went below, glad to have a bed to sleep in for the first time since leaving home. Matthew went to an Inn for a nightcap. When he came back he had a young woman on each arm. The trio looked at the sleeping James and one of the women nudged him with her foot.

  Early next morning, half asleep with his eyes closed, James smiled as he stroked the soft, long hair belonging to the warm body lying beside him.

  “Mary,” he murmured as he slowly woke up.

  A roar of laughter from Michael jolted him out of his slumber. When he opened his eyes the collie was licking his face.

  “So that’s how Mary wakes you up in the morning. She could teach Brigid a thing or two.”

  A young woman brushed past Michael and stepped off the barge, blowing a kiss back to Matthew.

  “Where did she come from?” asked James, wiping his face.

  Matthew smiled and said, “We have an arrangement. In fact her friend came back here with us last night but you were out cold, James. Some watchman you are, and Michael couldn’t be woken either. Not that we tried too hard, both of you being married, you probably wouldn’t have been interested, would you?”