by Charles Egan
He took a pack that the coachman was handing down.
‘But…in a coach! We weren’t expecting that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, I don’t know. And aren’t you a few days early?’
Murtybeg put down his pack. ‘Early bedamned. You should know all about it, and you the cause of it.’
‘Me! Why me?’
‘Danny reckoned one of us should come over and see you before you went to America, and since he wasn’t going to come, that only left me.’
‘But how…?’
‘Like a bat out of hell. Express to Liverpool, steamer to Dublin, the Castlebar mail coach, and I hired this fellow to get here in time. It might have helped if you’d told us the date you were going, we had no idea.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said.’ You’re right, I should have told you.’
‘I was coming over for Ma and Pa anyhow, so Danny said I should come over in time to see you. That was the rush.’
‘Well, I’m sorry. But anyhow you’re here now, come on in and see everyone.’
‘Hold on a second. I’ve got to pay this fellow first.’
He took coins out of his pocket, and counted them carefully into the coachman’s hand. ‘Friday,’ he said.
The man nodded. He grasped the horses by the reins, backed the coach into the gateway, and swung it back into the road. Then he climbed up, shaking the reins on the horses flanks. Luke was still staring at the coach, noticing the well-sprung axles. Must be comfortable to ride in that. His mother was right. Quality indeed.
The rest of the family had come outside, and Murtybeg strode over to them. Eleanor threw her arms around him. ‘Murteen, it’s great to see you back. Are you staying for long?’
‘The end of the week at least. Not that Danny liked that, but I told him I was, and that was all about it. And now, if you’ll stop being so rude, perhaps you’d be so good as to introduce me.’
‘Oh God, yes,’ Luke said. ‘Winnie, this is Murtybeg, you’ve heard all about him. My cousin, a decent fellow even so.’
‘I’m happy to meet you,’ Winnie said, taking him by the hand. Then she hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘In fact, I’m delighted to meet you.’
Murtybeg looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, I’m delighted I got the chance. I reckoned if I didn’t get here before you went to America, I’d never have the chance of meeting you at all.’
‘Oh, you’ve plenty of time for that,’ Winnie said. ‘Sure I’m not going for another six or eight months.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No, not until after the baby has come.’
‘Baby! What baby?’
‘Luke’s. Who else’s?’
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Murtybeg said. ‘It’s just this husband of yours, he never tells us anything in his letters. Always whinging, never tells us the important things.’
‘Arra, don’t worry about it,’ Luke said. ‘If you’re here till Friday, you’ll have plenty of time to catch up with everything.’
‘I will,’ Murtybeg said. ‘Now, if you’ll all be excusing me, I’ve got to go up and see Ma and Pa, and start telling them about their trip.’
‘Yes,’ Eleanor said, ‘you go, and do that. Sure we’ll see ye all tonight.’
That evening, Murty, Aileen and Murtybeg came down to the house. Luke thought Aileen looked more withdrawn than ever.
‘Did you hear about Danny?’ Murty asked. ‘He’s getting married.’
‘He’s what!’ Michael exclaimed.
‘Getting married. Murteen has just told us.’
‘Getting married,’ Eleanor echoed. ‘Isn’t that wonderful.’
Isn’t it, Luke was thinking. I wonder what class of a woman caught Danny. She’ll need to be one tough lady to deal with the likes of him.
Eleanor had taken out a bottle of poitín. ‘And when is the wedding to be?’ she asked.
‘Three weeks’ time,’ Murty said. ‘And it’s going to be a big one, by all accounts.’
‘So what about ye,’ Michael asked. ‘What are your plans now.’
‘We’ll stay some days yet,’ Murty said. ‘Murteen here will help us getting everything together, then it’s going to be the coach to Castlebar, and the mail coach to Dublin.’
‘More coaches,’ Luke said. ‘That costs money.’
‘So it does,’ Murty said, ‘but it seems that Danny has a good amount of that. What between that and a good position working with Danny, we’ll manage well. We’ll get used to England soon enough.’
Luke thought he saw a flicker of doubt in Murtybeg’s eyes. He didn’t comment though. Murty was talking to him.
‘Nervous about America?’ he asked.
‘I’d be a fool to deny it,’ Luke said. He glanced across to Winnie. ‘Sad too. I won’t see the baby when it’s born. We’ll meet again in America, though, won’t we, my love?’
‘Yes,’ Winnie said, ‘we will.’
‘What do you think of it all?’ she asked as they lay in bed that night. ‘Is it all as good as Murtybeg says?’
‘I don’t know, my love. There’s something he’s not saying, and I’m not sure what it is.’
It was a dry day. He was out cutting hay early, not wanting to waste sunshine. He was surprised when he saw Murtybeg coming across towards him.
‘God, you’re up early.’
‘No more than yourself.’
‘I’ve work to be doing,’ Luke said. ‘What’s your reason?’
‘Arra, I just couldn’t sleep,’ Murtybeg said.
‘Restless, are you? What’s troubling you? Go on, tell me about it.’ He could see the look in Murtybeg’s face. Fearful of being trapped perhaps? Or just wanting to talk, confess it all, share his worries?
‘Tell you about what?’
‘Everything. But you could start with Jimmy Corrigan.’
Luke noticed the sharp intake of breath.
‘Well,’ Murtybeg said, ‘you seem to know about it. Danny wanted his revenge, and he was going to get it.’
‘So you had nothing to do with it?’
‘I only held him for Danny to punch him.’
‘No one else is going to believe that.’
‘I didn’t know that Danny was going to smash his hands and legs.’
‘He did what?’
‘You heard. And anyhow, it could have been worse.’
Luke stared in disbelief. ‘Worse! How in hell could it have been worse?’
‘Well, when Jimmy was on the ground – his trousers open – Danny took out a knife. He was going to cut it off.’
Luke gasped. ‘He was going to what!’
‘Cut it off. Make sure no one else ended up like Nessy. But I stopped him.’
‘You stopped him?’
‘I did. I grabbed his arm, and held it back, knife and all.’
‘Arra, he didn’t mean it,’ Luke said, unimpressed. ‘He was just trying to frighten you.’
‘Oh, he meant it alright,’ Murtybeg said.
Luke grabbed him by the collar. ‘I don’t know if he did or he didn’t. But either way, you don’t ever tell that story again. Do you hear me?’
‘No,’ Murtybeg said, taken aback by the violence of Luke’s voice.
Luke released his grip on the collar. ‘Now, tell me the rest of it. What’s happening now? What’s going to happen to Murty and Aileen once they get to England?’
Murtybeg jerked the collar back from his throat. ‘Well, it’s like this,’ he said. ‘Sure, Danny is becoming a rich man, and he’s getting married, building a house for himself. And like he promised in his letter, he’ll be taking on Pa, giving him a job, and all in all, it’ll be much better than doing nothing in Carrigard. But Pa’s going to get some shocks, Ma too. Irene is one hell of a tough lady, rough too,
no less than Danny. They’ll make a great pair, and I’m sure they’ll go far. But it’s the ways they’re making their money, that’s what worries me, and once Pa finds out about it, there’ll be hell to pay. But he’ll be trapped by then, and there’ll be no way back to Mayo for either of them.’
Luke walked over towards the wall and sat down. He took some brown bread and buttermilk out of his pack.
‘Maybe you should take it easy while you’re here. Just look around you. The sun is shining. Have you ever seen Nephin so clear. And look over there – there’s the Reek. We might as well enjoy it all while we can.’
‘Enjoy it, is it,’ Murtybeg said, ‘after you near strangling me.’
‘Sorry. I won’t do it again.’
‘Oh, thanks. But do you not know what I’m telling you, do you not understand? Danny is a hell of a bastard when it comes to employing men. You’ve never seen anything like it.’
Luke started munching on the bread, but continued talking. ‘I might know more than you think,’ he said. ‘There’s two things you might forget. First, Danny invited me to join him as a partner, but now he has you instead. He wrote to me, told me how he was intending making money, using poor fellows from the West of Mayo who knew no better. Isn’t that what you’re doing now?’
‘It is, but…’
‘And I’ll tell you the second thing. I’ve worked on the railways.’
‘But you were with Farrelly. That was different.’
‘True enough, but I saw what was going on with other gangs. The English gangers were bad, the Welsh were worse. But the worst of all were the Irish fellows. Men from the West – Mayo men, Donegal too, they were damned bastards. I saw what they did to their own. Money was the only god they ever had, never thought of anything else. And sure as hell, they never thought of the men working for them, and the most of them coming from their own villages.’
Murtybeg took a slice of bread, ate it and washed it down with buttermilk. He was half thinking how long it was since he had ever tasted either, but he had other matters on his mind.
‘You might be right in all that. But it’s different now.’
‘How is it different now?’ Luke asked.
‘It’s worse. It’s all to do with the hunger. The fellows from out beyond Bellacorick, Crossmolina and Belmullet; down Erris and all over that way. They’ll work for nothing at all. And they’re pouring into Liverpool in their thousands, dreaming of America, but not a penny in their pockets to get there. They’re trying to get into the Workhouse, but the Union won’t have them, they send them back to Dublin as soon as they get the chance. So they’re squeezing into cellars, tiny rooms, anything they can get, all along Scotland Road.’
‘Scotland Road? That’s where Buckley’s is.’
‘Buckley’s! You should see Buckley’s now, you wouldn’t know it. Forty in a room, families and all, sleeping in shifts around the clock, and then walking the streets begging for food.’
‘So what about Danny?’ Luke asked.
‘Danny just stays over on the railway, himself and Irene, sorting out the books and making sure everything is running right. They’ve got Bernie Lavan working as a ganger…’
‘Bernie Lavan!’
‘Yes, Bernie. Jamesy McManus and Johnny Roughneen too. Bernie and Johnny were running the gang in Leeds after Martin left. Danny reckoned they’d have enough practice to run his gangs for him.’
‘God, I never knew that. But…’
‘But what?’
‘But if they’re all gone, who’s running the gangs in Leeds?’
‘Damned if I know,’ Murtybeg said. ‘It’s no concern of mine.’
‘I just thought you’d be interested, that’s all.’
‘Haven’t I got enough to do as it is, without worrying about them fellows. I spend half my time in Liverpool, finding the men for Danny, bringing them over as fast as I can, it seems now it’s never enough. He’s looking for a hundred.’
‘A hundred!’ Luke exclaimed.
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Well, yes. In so little time.’
‘But how many were working for you back in the winter.’
Luke thought about that. Four Works, three gangs on each. Near enough four hundred. When they could get them. When they weren’t dying too fast to be replaced.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but that was different. I wasn’t making money out of them, was I?’
‘Not like Danny. But weren’t you able to make enough to feed yourself, the family too. And there’s many enough around here that didn’t, from all I hear.’
Gaunt figures, dying in the snow. Yes, they had lived, and lived better than most. Himself working as a supervisor, Pat as a clerk, and even his father running the quarry. Yes, they had fed themselves, but many others had died, lost everything, even life itself. Sure, Danny had money, but how different was he himself?
‘Who told you about that?’ he asked sharply.
‘Pa was on about it last night. He told me what was happening here and up the mountains.’
‘He what?’
‘You didn’t tell us any of that in your letters,’ Murtybeg said. ‘And whatever you might think about Danny, he feeds them, keeps them alive. Which is more than you could ever do.’
Luke stood, and made as if to strike Murtybeg, but Murtybeg caught his arm, and held it tight. ‘Sit down, there’s no merit in hitting me. It won’t change anything.’
Luke stared at him, angry, but shamed too. He sat. ‘So what’s going to happen now?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to bring Ma and Pa back. Like I said, we’ll have Pa working on the books. But when he works out what Danny is doing, there’s going to be one hell of a row. By then it’ll be too late for him though, he’ll have no way back to Mayo, no schools that’ll take him. And what other kind of jobs could he get around Stockport and Manchester at his age. And Ma? Sure, she could work in the mills, but how much could she earn? No, they’ll be caught, they’ll have their nice little house and good money, but he’ll have sold out, thrown away everything he believes in, and he’ll know it.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Me, is it?’ Murtybeg said. ‘I’ve sold out this long time.’
A letter arrived from Knockanure. Luke took it up to Murty’s house.
‘Pat’s coming over on Sunday,’ he told them.
‘That’ll be too late,’ Murtybeg said. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘Could you not wait over?’ Luke asked.
‘I’ve got the coachman coming over tomorrow, and there’s no way I can change that. Nor would I want to.’
‘Why didn’t you walk over to see him?’
Murtybeg took him by the arm, and led him outside. ‘Listen, I see enough of Workhouses as it is. I know every damned inch of the Liverpool Union, and I don’t want to see Knockanure. Now when Pat comes over, just give him my regards, and tell him how sorry I was to miss him.’
The next morning they left. The coach arrived early, glistening in the sunlight. Luke helped to heft the packs into it, all Murty and Aileen’s possessions, or at least those that were worth taking. He noticed the fresh smell of leather from the inside. Leather seats, even leather sides to the inside of the cab. Tooled leather around the bevelled glass windows.
A group of twenty emaciated people passed by, eyeing the coach and the black horses; horses that would never pull a plough. Luke watched the group. They’ll never make Westport, he thought, let alone America.
Murtybeg saw none of this though. He held his hand out to help his mother into the coach, and his father followed. Murty shook his head when he saw the interior.
‘You can’t say Danny isn’t thinking of you,’ Murtybeg said, seeing his father’s reaction. ‘We’ll be travelling in comfort, all the way to Stockport.’ Then he sat inside, and closed the door.
As the coach pulled off, Eleanor stood on the road, one arm around her husband’s shoulders, the other waving. Winnie waved too, but Luke just stood in the road.
He was walking back from the bog when he saw her coming out the road from Kilduff. They both stopped. Her appearance startled him. Bare feet yes, that was no surprise, but she was desperately thin, her high cheekbones showing prominent above sunken cheeks, with the purple-yellow signs of bruising. Her hair was longer, but lank. The shift she was wearing was more frayed than ever. He saw too the look in her eyes, half startled, half defeated.
She stood, staring at him. ‘Luke,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been so long.’
‘Yes, Kitty. A lot of things have happened since then. But what of ye? How have ye been taking it?’
‘Not good. Mr. Brennan’s dead, got the fever. I’m living with old Mrs. Brennan now.’ She seemed distracted. ‘Fergus too,’ she added, as if she had only just remembered. Or perhaps no longer cared.
‘Yes, I’d heard he’d stayed back. I’d have thought he’d have gone to England for the harvest.’
‘And maybe he should have. But we wouldn’t let him go, Mrs. Brennan nor me. We reckoned that if he went to England, he’d never come back, and then it would be like half the other families around, a year of money coming back, then nothing. So we kept him here, digging rotten potatoes and drinking himself to sleep every night.’
He saw the bruises and thought of Fergus, picturing him that night in the field, angry and vengeful. But now – drinking himself to sleep. All the hurt and pain of a man with no pride left, taking it out on a woman who could no longer defend herself.
She threw her arms around him, and squeezed him tight. ‘And wherever you are in America, just think of me, and I’ll think of you.’
Then she released him and walked on. For a long time, he stood in the road, watching her. Then he turned back to Carrigard.
That night, he told Winnie. He was surprised by how accepting she was.
‘These things are never easy,’ she said. ‘You’ll miss her now, you’ll miss her for the rest of your life. And do you know, when I go to join you in America, I’ll miss her too.’
