by Charles Egan
What surprised Luke now was the continuing quietness. He had feared there might be a riot, but there seemed to be very little threat of this. In part, this was due to Kavanagh’s efficient policing, but it also seemed that there was a certain hopeless apathy among those rejected. Many times he saw the despair in men’s eyes, men he knew, but he could no longer afford to think about this. On one occasion, a man in front of him broke down in tears and ran away. Without a word, the next man stood into position. He was wearing worn and broken boots, with one sole coming away from the upper. His trousers were torn beneath the knees, one still trailing a thorny bramble.
‘How many children?’ Luke asked, too weary to look up.
‘Luke, it’s me. Matt.’ It was Matt McGlinn.
‘You’ve no children, Matt.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Luke.’
‘I can’t do it, Matt. I just won’t be let.’
‘For your own friends. For the love of God.’
Gaffney walked over. ‘What’s wrong?’ He looked at Matt. ‘Does he have four children?’
Luke said nothing. Neither did McGlinn. The next man pushed him aside and stood forward.
As the Selection went on, those with work tickets formed a growing crowd to the side of the house. Some of those rejected stood in shock, but Kavanagh’s men persuaded them to leave without any trouble.
When the Selection was complete, Gaffney started the allocation of gangs to various tasks. Then one of the men ran over from the hundreds waiting, and came up to him.
‘John McDonagh, he’s fallen over, Sir. We can’t wake him.’
Gaffney scarcely glanced up.
‘Luke,’ he called, ‘can you go over and see what’s wrong.’
Luke went over. He saw a man lying on his side. He turned him on his back. He was quite dead.
The operation of the quarry was done on a different basis. Edmond White negotiated a direct contract with the authorities in Castlebar, the amount per ton of shale and rock being agreed, and a single contract price given. It was also agreed that workers from the Relief Works would be used, but Burke would pay them directly.
In spite of Michael being an educated man, he was not asked to operate the quarry. For this purpose a supervisor was sent from Galway by Mr. Burke.
The work in the quarry was split in two. At one end, twenty men were working with picks and shovels, loosening the shale and filling the carts. At the other end, another twenty worked with spikes and sledgehammers, loosening the rock and breaking it into smaller rocks. The rock was then taken to the working end of the new road, where dozens of people smashed it into smaller fragments, using hammers. The work was long, hard and tedious. Michael himself worked with his horse and cart, carrying rock and shale from the quarry.
Murty was not employed on the Works, either as a clerk or as a labourer. He wrote to Murtybeg and to Danny, telling them of the desperate situation in Mayo. Their postal order arrived every two weeks.
Over the next five days, the Works settled into a steady rhythm. Pat spent most of the time in the old cottage with Gaffney, while Luke worked on the new line or in the quarry; making out the rolls, checking on those present and ensuring enough implements were in position each morning. As the work progressed, it struck him how similar it was to the work on the rails, except that the physical labour carried out was only a fraction of what would be expected of good workmen on a rail cutting. There were the same long lines of workers shovelling mud, digging trenches and breaking stones, but in England, it would have been at least three times faster. On thinking about it, he realised that the main purpose was to supply work, not to be efficient.
One other difference was the women and working, something he had never seen on the rails.
What he had found most disturbing though was the Selection. He told himself that he had done what had to be done. It was better to employ four hundred than none at all. Despite this, the faces of those he had rejected were always in his mind; men and women who he had known over the years. Once again, they had disappeared, but he felt this was even worse, as if they were already dead. It had been easier for Pat; he had not been forced to make decisions. But for Luke things could never be the same again. His family were still with him, he slept at home every night, but he was becoming a stranger to his own people.
Payday was a busy day. Pat was sent out to bring in the time-sheets from the gangers, while Luke calculated the sums due. He noted that while some had worked the full six days, many had missed days or half days, though he did not question why. During the afternoon the pay clerk arrived from the Union, and they began to distribute the coins to the lengthening lines of men and women. It was a requirement that each should sign his or her name alongside the capitalised version of the name on the list that Pat had prepared. Very few could do so, most only marked an X. Luke wrote the words ‘his mark’ or ‘her mark’ – one word above the X and one below, and followed it with his own signature as witness.
He was feeling more and more isolated. People he had known for years refused to look him in the eyes. At first Luke thought that this was because of shame in that they could not sign their name, but many could, having attended Murty’s school. No, the shame was not that. The shame was in having to work on the Relief Works at all. Having to sign in front of Luke made it worse, and they hated him for it.
Afterwards Gaffney dismissed all the supervisors and clerks, but asked Luke to remain behind. He held a letter in his hand.
‘Luke, I’ve a request to make of you. It would appear that the Union in Knockanure is losing control of the situation, and they’ve asked for my assistance. They say there are Works to be opened in Knockanure and around Brockagh over the next three weeks, but they have no experienced men to operate them. I am very much afraid that I’ll have to ask you to assist them for a short period. Pat too, maybe. I can’t spare either of you, but they have no one else with experience.’
‘But I have no experience either, Mr. Gaffney.’
‘You under-estimate yourself. You’re educated. And I know you’ve worked on the railways in England. Any man who worked there is experienced.’
‘Yes, Mr. Gaffney. But I was only a labourer.’
‘None the less, you know the system, and you’ve learnt a lot over the past two weeks. Also, you are responsible. There are few as capable in Mayo.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Luke said.
‘Oh, but I do,’ Gaffney said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. I know more than you might think. Do you remember the first time we met, I tried you on a computation. Do you remember that?’
‘Yes, Mr. Gaffney.’
‘It wasn’t just my idea either. I’d been talking to your uncle Ian about you. Did you know that?’
Luke looked at him in surprise. ‘No, Mr. Gaffney.’
‘Well, I did, and he told me you were the fastest computer this side of Lahore. You reckon faster than the best, that’s what he told me. I didn’t believe him, but that day in your kitchen, I tested you, and by God, you’re fast. I couldn’t do that myself.’
‘If it’s that you’re looking for,’ Luke said, ‘you’ll find plenty more around. It was my uncle taught us that. When we were at school, he used to keep a few of us back every night, throwing us questions like that.’
‘There’s more like you then?’
‘There are, but I think the most of them are in England.’
‘So you see, it does come back to you, doesn’t it?’
But Luke was thinking of other things too. The deaths on the Works had shaken him at first, but he was used to it now. There had been two more in the past few days.
What still gnawed at him though was McGlinn. He knew he had to turn him down, he knew he had no choice, but who else would see it that way. No-one. There was no longer any reason to stay. Knockanure was the only way out.
‘What are my
instructions, Mr. Gaffney?’
‘You are to present yourself at the Union at seven o’clock on Thursday morning. The Poor Law Commissioner is a Mr. Voisey. He’s the fellow who asked for our assistance. It’s up to Voisey to decide, but I understand he’ll be sending you to Brockagh to establish a Works in a week or so. You’re to have a horse, and your wages will be raised to two shillings. They may give an allowance for lodgings, but you’ll have to talk to Voisey about that.’
That evening, Luke discussed the offer with Michael. Their position was secure for the next year. Michael could still work hard, loading and unloading the cart with men half his age. Combined with the payment for the horse and cart, he was already earning two shillings a day. Among the three of them, they were now earning over thirty shillings a week. This would be enough to pay the total rent for the year in just over five weeks, and even with the higher price of corn, food was no longer a problem.
Michael had his reservations too though. Most of the men and women on the Works did not own a horse, and Gaffney would not use donkeys or mules. There were only five other horses carting stone. Michael had heard mutterings at the quarry about men wealthy enough to own a horse, and to rent it out for more than a man’s wage.
A second factor was the ‘one worker per family’ rule. Gaffney had instituted this on the spur of the moment to overcome an immediate crisis, but it reflected very badly on a family who had three men working – all on higher wages. Luke knew that in total, they were earning nearly as much as Gaffney himself, but he did not mention this to his father.
Still, the Selection was the worst of all. It had pained Michael too. Apart from Matt McGlinn, a number of other friends and relatives who had been rejected had spoken to him on the afternoon of the Selection. Michael assured Luke that he had done the right thing, but he too knew the consequences. They both agreed therefore that the request from the Knockanure Union would be for the best. Michael thought that the Barony might institute further Works in Carrigard to employ those who had been rejected, and by the time Luke and Pat returned the harsh feelings might have abated. Perhaps.
Pat and Luke arrived in Knockanure just after dawn. There was already a crowd of hundreds outside the Workhouse. At the front of the crowd, there were men and women clamouring to be allowed in or to be given food. The gate was guarded on the inside by two men, inmates, Luke guessed. One was carrying a heavy stick which he used on the fingers of men who were trying to clamber to the top of the gate. As they came to the edge of the crowd, he could see again the thin faces and loose-hanging clothes that signified hunger. He could also smell the nauseating stench of unwashed bodies.
He was horrified. It brought back to him the day he had brought Sorcha and her husband to the Workhouse. But there were more people now. He and Pat started to push their way through the crowd, and women screeched at them, trying to hold them back. But they fought their way through the crowd until they got to the gate, and Luke shouted at one of the inmates who was guarding it. At first he ignored him, but when he understood what their business was, he nodded to them, but he did not open the gate. Luke and Pat clambered up to the top, kicking away hands that grasped their ankles. They dropped down the other side and went to the administration building beside the Workhouse. Luke knocked. An elderly man answered.
‘Luke and Patrick Ryan, from Kilduff. Mr. Gaffney sent us over. We’re looking for Mr. Voisey.’
‘Oh yes, I was expecting you. Which one of you is Luke?’
‘I am,’ said Luke.
‘I’m glad you could both come. We will certainly need you. Can I ask you to wait in this office, and I will be with you presently.’
They entered the office. There was another man already seated at the table, working on maps. He stood up as they entered. It was McKinnon.
‘I thought you two were in Carrigard,’ McKinnon said in surprise.
‘And we thought you were in Castlebar,’ Luke said
‘That was last week. They sent me over here to help Voisey and the other Poor Law fellows to get the Relief Works going.’
‘And what about Sabina?’ Pat asked.
‘I told her to stay in Kilduff. Might be healthier for her than the Union in Castlebar. Or here, for that matter.’
Luke looked out the rear window at the crowd. ‘It seems you’re selecting for the Works today.’
‘Oh no, the Selection was a week ago. It was a terrible day, there were thousands here. We only had work for one in ten, and we near had a riot. They were threatening Voisey’s life. The peelers had to be called. It’s calmed down a bit now.’
‘If the Selection is done, who are all these people?’
‘Some of them are those who didn’t go home. The peelers tried to move them, but they gave up.’
‘They’ve been here all week!’
‘They have, and the crowd has been growing since. They’re all looking for admission to the Workhouse, but it’s already taken near double its capacity. Voisey fed them for a few days, but that only attracted more.’
‘I thought they didn’t allow Outdoor Relief without work.’
‘They don’t, and the Master here is a great man for the rules. It offended Voisey’s Christian sensibilities though, he just couldn’t turn hungry people away. But the Master had to put a stop to it, the Workhouse hasn’t enough food to feed the inmates. I think they’re just hoping the crowd will disappear.’
‘Where will they go?’ Pat asked.
‘God only knows, Pat. God only knows.’
‘What’s Voisey like to work for?’ Luke asked.
‘He’s a good man, a decent man. His brother is an Anglican minister in England. He’d have made a good vicar himself. Deeply Christian, as I say. The problem is he finds it hard to manage men, perhaps he’s too gentle for it. I think all this will break his heart, poor fellow.’
‘And the Master?’ Luke asked. ‘What’s he like?’
‘Cronin – oh, he’s not bad. Strict, hard-working, a man has to be to run a Workhouse. A lot of experience, I understand, Dublin and everywhere else. His wife is the Matron, she’ll have her work cut out for her now, poor woman.’
Luke glanced back to McKinnon and to the window behind. There was a hammering sound coming from the back yard.
‘What are these sheds they’re building along the wall?’
McKinnon followed his gaze. ‘Fever sheds. They’ve no money for a proper building.’
‘Have you fever here?’
‘Black Fever. Only a few yet, but it’s growing.’
Voisey entered, and they all sat down. ‘You come well commended, both of you. Mr. Gaffney thinks very highly of you, and he is a man not easily pleased. He writes to say that he cannot spare either of you, but he knows he must. I have much work for you. As you have heard, we are starting new Works in the area around Brockagh. I would send Ian, but I cannot spare him. We haven’t enough good men for all we need, the work never ceases, and still it is not enough.’
He turned to McKinnon. ‘Do you have the maps there?’
When they were spread out on the table, he turned to Luke.
‘You can read maps?’
‘Yes, I’ve studied geography.’
‘I should explain,’ McKinnon said, ‘young Luke here is my nephew. Used to help me out with the Ordnance Survey when he was a young fellow back in ’38. He knows all about maps and surveying.’
‘Just the kind of man we want. Now, these are the two Works we must start around Brockagh. As you can see, the first is Ardnagrena, which we intend to open on Monday.’
‘On Monday?’ Luke exclaimed. ‘With respect, Mr. Voisey, that’s impossible.’
‘I know that. Every day, we are expected to do the impossible. Every day, we must feed the Five Thousand, but miracles are not given to us. You must do what you can. And further, we must commence the Works at Lisnadee as soon as possible.
’
‘But how can I do all this?’
‘I would suggest first you go to Brockagh and find the Catholic priest, Father Nugent. He is an excellent man, we worked together in ’40. You will need at least seven men – one supervisor and three gangers for each of the Works. I’m sure he’ll advise you on that.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘I’m certain of that.’
‘And what about me?’ Pat asked.
‘Can you stay and help us here?’
‘Well…yes.’
‘Excellent. But now I must leave you. We have a meeting of the Guardians this morning, and I must prepare. Ian here will explain everything to you. Goodbye and Godspeed.’
For the next hour, McKinnon explained the maps, the estimates and the requisitions in detail. He explained the system of payment and the days on which the pay clerk would be expected to arrive at each Works. Then he brought them into the Workhouse block to meet the Workhouse Master. A young woman was working at the edge of the desk beside him. Luke recognised her as the one he had seen when he had brought Sorcha over.
Afterwards McKinnon gave Luke a five pound advance which he had to sign for, together with a quantity of cold cooked Indian meal. He brought him out to the stables to saddle a horse. Luke led it by the reins to the front gate. McKinnon took his hand. ‘Good luck now. Just do the best you can. I hope to visit you in Brockagh over the next few weeks.’
He unlocked the gate and opened it. Two inmates held back the crowd, as Luke pulled his horse through gaunt men and women, mounted it, and rode away.
On the Leeds & Thirsk Railway, Danny had other concerns. He sought out the Erris men in their lodgings. They seemed happy enough to see him, and invited him into the shack for poitín. He was a little drunk when he left, but he had vital information. The wages on the gang had dropped to ninepence a day. The famine was forcing thousands of men out of Ireland, and wages were being driven down fast. The opportunity was better – far better – than he had anticipated.
