by Charles Egan
Within a few days, Yardley had four cottages operating as fever wards near Brockagh, and another four in the outlying areas. Men and women, often weak themselves, were organised as nurses and cleaners.
Winnie worked in the Brockagh fever cottages. This worried Luke – he tried to forbid her, but she would not have it.
‘You might die,’ he said.
‘So might you.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I just don’t want you going into the wards again.’
‘But I must. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be the woman you married, would I?’
He could think of no answer to that.
A few days later, Yardley became ill. He insisted on moving to the fever cottages himself. Quarantine had to be maintained. As he weakened, Winnie took care of him, mopping his hot brow and cleaning him. Luke too continued working in the fever cottages. He knew it was at the risk of his own life, but in spite of the pain of fever, he no longer cared about it. He was terrified though that Winnie would die, and he felt that if she did, he would have been responsible for it.
And he had other worries too. Day by day, the Quaker supplies were running lower. The price of corn was rising to impossible heights, and he knew there were no cheaper supplies anywhere else in the county. He tried not to think about that. They would feed the people while they could, and after that they would just have to see what developed.
In the end, it too was very close.
The Quaker supplies were down to the last sacks of corn when the Government supplies arrived. Winnie came out of one of the fever cottages as the convoy stopped. Luke was there already, talking to one of the cart men. A crowd had gathered around the carts. The six soldiers were looking very nervous, but the people watching were quiet. Very quiet.
Luke left the soldiers with the cart and walked with Winnie back towards the house. Gallagher rose as they walked in.
‘It’s arrived,’ Luke said. ‘The corn is here.’
‘It’s come?’
‘It has. I think the worst is over.’
‘Just so long as the early potato crop is a good one.’
‘Yes,’ Luke said, ‘that would help.’
Gallagher poured out four mugs of poitín. They all sat down at the table.
‘What was that cart man saying to you?’ Winnie asked.
‘Telling me about Ballina,’ Luke replied. ‘He says there’s ships lining up, coming in with corn.’
Gallagher shook his head in amazement.
‘Where’s it all coming from?’
‘England. France. Even America.’
‘But – didn’t the Government stop bringing ships in?’
‘I don’t know,’ Luke said, ‘but from all I hear it’s the big merchants buying it in now. Castlebar is buying it off them.’
‘At these prices!’ Mrs. Gallagher exclaimed.
‘Not anymore. The price of corn is dropping fast. ‘
‘That’ll give McIlhenny something to think about,’ she commented.
‘Aye,’ Gallagher said, ‘and bankrupt the bastard.’
‘Bad cess to him too,’ Winnie added, with vehemence.
The changeover to the Government supplies went smoothly. The system was already up and running alongside Yardley’s supplies, and within a day Gallagher, Durcan and all the rest were running each of the four Kitchens with little difficulty. After two days, the six militia men left, and rode back towards Castlebar.
Mrs. Caroline Yardley, Brockagh,
Shirecliffe House, County Mayo
Tamworth,
Staffordshire 27th April 1847
Dear Mrs. Yardley
It is my sad duty to tell you that your husband, Edward Yardley, has died here in Brockagh.
Mr. Yardley had been working these months past at Knockanure Union, where I first came to know him. He then came to Brockagh to set up a Soup Kitchen for the feeding of the starving, and he started fever sheds for the sick. But then he sickened and died yesterday. He has been buried here in Brockagh. There were none of his own faith here, so our priest, Fr. Nugent, read a Christian blessing over his grave.
Should you wish to know more you can write either to the Poor Law Commissioner, Mr. James Voisey, at Knockanure Union, Co. Mayo, or direct to Fr. Nugent here in Brockagh.
With sympathy,
Luke Ryan
As he was supervising the Kitchen in the centre of Brockagh, he saw a horseman coming towards him. It was Voisey. Luke showed him the Kitchen in operation, quiet lines of people moving to the pots. He explained about the other Kitchens at Ardnagrena, Lisnadee, Burrenabawn and Teenashilla. He also showed Voisey the fever cottages in Brockagh.
They went into the first cottage. The women were washing down the patients. Fresh straw was being spread on the floor, and in one corner a stinking heap of straw and excrement was being shovelled into a barrow. Luke saw the look in Voisey’s eyes.
‘It’s the best we can do.’
‘I know, I know,’ Voisey replied. ‘It’s no worse than Knockanure.’
At that moment, a second barrow was wheeled in. A corpse was lifted into it, and wheeled out again. The two men glanced at each other.
‘They’re dying like flies,’ Voisey said.
‘Not like it used to be,’ Luke said. ‘It’s better since we opened the Kitchens.’
‘Where are you burying them?’
‘In the graveyards. Pits. One in Knocklenagh, one here in Brockagh. Father Nugent is arranging all that.’
‘We should thank the Lord for that. And for Father Nugent too, he’s a good man.’
‘You’re right. I don’t know what I’d have done here without him.’
‘And Edward Yardley too. We need men like them.’
Luke stopped. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you. Yardley’s dead. He got the fever, and died yesterday.’
Voisey looked at him in horror. ‘Edward is dead?’
‘He is.’
‘We must write to his widow.’
‘I’ve already done that.’
Voisey had a shaken, half-defeated look in his eyes.
‘This fever spares no one. Edward too, on top of all the others. Will it never end?’
Afterwards Voisey explained that the Union was instituting a new policy for Brockagh. It had been decided to ask Father Nugent to supervise the Soup Kitchens in Brockagh and the outlying districts on behalf of the Union. Corn and other food was now arriving in Ballina, and another consignment was to be sent in the next few days. In addition, Brockagh was to have a doctor. As a result, the Union had decided that it was no longer necessary to have any other clerks around Brockagh. Luke’s work with the Union at Brockagh was to be terminated in two weeks. It had been decided that he should report back to Gaffney in Kilduff.
Luke thought about that. It all came flooding back to him, the Selections at Carrigard, turning away his own people. No, he had no interest in that. Carrigard, yes. But he would never work for the Union again.
That evening they discussed it all at Gallagher’s. The time had come for definite decisions. Clearly Luke would have to leave Brockagh and take over the running of the farm with his father in Carrigard. Next day, he wrote a letter to his father and mother, saying he would return, bringing his bride with him.
Early next morning he lay beside Winnie on the bed.
‘It seems the time has come.’
‘It has, Luke. Time to start our real married life. And I’m looking forward to meeting all your family, after all you’ve told me about them. But still…’
‘Yes. You’ll be sorry to leave Brockagh.’
In many ways, he was relieved. Father Nugent was well regarded in the parish, and had the moral authority to run the Kitchens without question.
As promised, the supplies from Ballina arrived a few days later. L
uke had not been requested to travel to Ballina. Corn was being imported in large quantities now, and the distribution system around the county was working well.
He was relieved too when the doctor arrived from Castlebar. He brought a young nurse with him. Luke showed them through the fever cottages in Brockagh, and then brought them around the outlying ones too. What he saw nauseated him again. He wondered whether he would ever harden up to it. But it would not be necessary anymore. He insisted now that Winnie stop working in the cottages.
When they left Brockagh, Gallagher insisted that he would bring them to Knockanure in the wagon. As they drove, Luke noticed that most of the Relief Works were still in operation. Only a few had closed since he had last been down to Knockanure. Davitt had been right. The Works around Brockagh had been closed well ahead of the rest of the county.
As they came close to the Union, a woman came up to the cart, one arm extended, a dead baby in the other.
‘Please sirs, a penny for a coffin and a grave. I don’t want the trench in the Union for the child.’
Winnie whipped the shawl across her own face. Luke took a few coins, and handed them to the woman, but her hands were shaking, and the coins dropped. When the wagon had passed, she scrabbled for them in the mud.
‘How much did you give her,’ Winnie asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Luke said. ‘I didn’t look.’ Gallagher glanced at him, but said nothing.
When they arrived, they left the wagon in the yard behind the administration block and went to Pat’s office. Sarah was there too. This time, she did not leave the office.
Pat jumped up at once. ‘By God, it’s great to see you. Mr. Gallagher, I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘How else do you think they would have got here?’ Gallagher asked. ‘You don’t think I’d leave my daughter to walk all the way?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Seems like you were expecting us,’ Luke said.
‘Expecting you!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘We’ve been expecting you for two weeks. Mother wrote to me at once, she was so delighted. And she’s just dying to meet her new daughter-in-law. It seems I have to drive you over, not keep her waiting.’
‘I was going to go on over,’ Gallagher said.
‘There’s no need,’ Pat said. ‘I’ll be able to borrow a Union wagon and take them over.’
‘Fine so,’ Luke said.
Pat sat, and waved Luke to the other seat. ‘You know the other news?’
‘What’s that?’ Luke asked.
‘Morton’s dead.’
‘Yes. So I’d heard.’
‘Isn’t it great?’
‘Now that’s a terrible thing to say,’ Sarah said. ‘I told you before.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Pat said. ‘I’ve no pity for the bastard. May he rot in hell.’
‘Be that as it may, you shouldn’t talk like that about the dead.’ She stood, and walked across to Winnie. ‘You’ll have to forgive them,’ she said. ‘No manners, these fellows. They haven’t even offered you a seat.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Pat said, ‘here, Winnie, sit down here.’
‘It’s a bit late now,’ Sarah said, ‘and you haven’t introduced us either.’ She took Winnie’s hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. I’m Sarah Cronin. I’m working here with Pat, trying to help him out. Not that I get much thanks for it.’
‘Would you listen to her,’ Pat said. ‘Always complaining, never stops.’
Luke and Gallagher went to the next office to collect their wages. All the barony wages were now being paid out of Knockanure.
An hour later, Winnie hugged her father. Then Luke held out his hand as she mounted the wagon to drive to Carrigard.
Chapter Twenty Four
Tyrawly Herald, May 1847:
In some of the remote parts of this Union, particularly in the Barony of Erris, disease is committing serious havoc. On Monday, the 17th inst., in the townland in Inver in the Barony referred to, there were no less than 32 human beings dead – dead of famine – dead of pestilence produced and propagated by want. The deaths in this district arising from destitution and its consequences are awfully numerous and of daily occurrence.
When they were within a mile of Carrigard, he saw another Relief Works. As the existing road turned to the right, a new road was being built straight ahead. He noticed one difference from the ones he had already seen – the workers were wearing a uniform. The uniform of the Workhouse.
‘What’s this?’ he asked his brother.
‘Oh, this is the New Line too. It’s running down to the bridge on the river. Meets up with the New Line from Carrigard.’
‘They’re still using gangs from the Workhouse?’
‘That’s right.’
Luke stood in the wagon, still observing. ‘How many are there, Pat?’
‘Three hundred anyhow.’
‘They’re very slow.’
‘That’s why they’re so many.’
As they crossed the ford, he could see the new bridge, already half built, a hundred yards up the river.
‘They’re not using the Union fellows on that.’
‘No. They need masons for that.’
‘Stones from the quarry?’
‘That’s right. Ours and Benson’s.’
As they came close to the house, the old road came closer to the New Line again. They drove past many people Luke knew, but no one acknowledged him.
Pat stopped the wagon by the entrance to the quarry.
‘Father,’ he shouted. Michael looked up from where he was watching a cart being loaded. Then he ran over.
‘Well, by God. So this is Winnie.’
He came up to the front of the wagon, and grasped the bridle, leading the horse the last few yards to the house. He held out his hand for Winnie to get down. Then he did something that Luke had never expected. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. Then he led her into the house.
‘Come on in, girl. Elly just can’t wait to meet you.’
Luke held his breath as his mother ran across the kitchen.
‘Winnie,’ she cried as she threw her arms around her. She stood back. ‘Now let’s see you. Ian tells us all you’re a fine class of a girl.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’
‘No, no. That’s what he said. You shouldn’t be so shy about it neither.’
‘But…’
‘But sure enough of that. Come here now, I’ve something to show you.’ She beckoned Winnie over to the cradle. Brigid was asleep.
‘Shhh,’ she said to Winnie, ‘don’t wake her.’
Winnie looked closely at the sleeping child. ‘What age is she? A year perhaps?’
‘A little over,’ Eleanor said.
‘Isn’t she beautiful. Luke told me all about her. The poor little mite, with no mother.’
‘I don’t think I’d worry about that,’ Luke said from the table. ‘Little Brigid has more mothers than any girl in Mayo.’
And one more now, he thought.
He had noticed a change in the kitchen. There was a new wall to one end of it. His father saw him staring.
‘Oh, you haven’t seen this, of course. Your mother insisted, said you’d have to have a room to yourselves, the pair of you.’
Luke looked up at the wall, all the way to the apex at the rafters.
‘It’s well built.’
‘Of course. Come on, I’ll show you.’
They left the women in the kitchen, and his father brought him into the new bedroom. There was a solid wooden bed at one end.
‘Where did this come from?’ he asked.
‘Where do you think,’ his father replied. ‘Your mother insisted I make this too. Good seasoned timber.’
Luke felt the headboard. ‘By God, this will last for generations.’
‘And so will we,’ Michael said.
They walked out into the haggard.
‘Now tell me, what about the potatoes?’ Michael asked. ‘What was the condition of them coming down from Brockagh?’
‘Good enough. There was no sign of blight anyhow.’
‘No, we seem to be lucky enough with the early crop. We won’t have any difficulty here.’
‘You’re ahead of the rest of the county so. From what we saw, the spring planting is well down. I’d say there’s only a quarter the normal amount.’
‘A quarter!’
‘Could be less.’
‘What are they going to live on? The Kitchens?’
‘The Kitchens for now at least,’ Luke said. ‘And with any luck, they’ll have planted more potatoes, and we’ll have a better crop in the autumn. And there’s always the Workhouse.’
‘There is,’ Michael said. ‘But what about Pat? What do you think – will he stay in Knockanure?’
‘I was thinking about that. They’ve no Master, and the accounts are in a terrible way. I’m sure they’ll keep him until they appoint a new Master. After that, I don’t know.’
‘Your mother is hoping they’ll keep him. A good job as a clerk – he wouldn’t have to go on the railways.’
‘I doubt it’d happen. If they get a new Master, I can’t see they could afford the expense of a new clerk as well.’
‘A pity,’ Michael said. ‘And talking of clerks, there’s a message for you from Gaffney. He wants to see you the minute you’re back.’
‘Gaffney?’
‘You’ll have to go tomorrow. He’ll be in Carrigard for the morning.’
‘What in hell does he want?’
‘Seems they’re a bit short again. Says he’ll need you a lot over the next few weeks.’
Luke shook his head.
A room of their own. That night they made love, relaxed and easy for the first time since they had to leave the old cottage. Afterwards they lay back, talking quietly.
