by Charles Egan
*
They stood outside the Court, waiting.
‘I’d never even heard of a Probate Court,’ Murtybeg said.
‘Why would you?’ Sternberg said. ‘It’s very new. They only started in Manchester last year.’
Murtybeg spotted Irene on a corner at the far side of the street. Beside her was a tall man, wearing a gown and a collarette.
‘That’s Michael Pritchard over there,’ Sternberg said. ‘He’s one of the top barristers in Manchester. She must be worried.’
‘She’s not the only one,’ Murtybeg said.
‘I’ll bet he’ll be surprised to see me.’
‘He might,’ Murtybeg said. ‘And that’s Irene Miller beside him. But, sure as hell, she won’t be surprised to see me.’
As they waited, another carriage arrived. The passenger paid the cabbie, and walked across to Irene and Pritchard.
‘That’s Rothwell,’ Sternberg said.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Murtybeg asked.
‘He’s only here as an observer, I’d say,’ Sternberg said. ‘As a solicitor, he can’t plead her case. But since he’s instructed Pritchard as Miss Miller’s counsel, he has an obvious interest.’
An hour later, the Registrar read down Murtybeg’s letter regarding the 1753 Act.
‘Mr. Ryan has described the situation most succinctly for one not accustomed to such matters,’ he said. ‘What do you have to say, Mr. Pritchard?’
‘Succinct indeed,’ Pritchard said, ‘but there are several vital points to remember. Daniel Ryan and Irene Miller already had a very close relationship, as evidenced by the time they were living together, and the fact that they were already affianced. Their wedding had already been booked, and the Reverend Southwood, will confirm that if required. There is no doubt that if it had not been for Mr. Ryan’s unfortunate accident, they would be man and wife by now.’
‘Fine,’ the Registrar said ‘but we still must face the fact that they were not actually married.’
‘There is another point though,’ Pritchard went on. ‘The Act of 1753 only applied to England and Wales.’
Murtybeg started. Sternberg put a hand on his arm.
‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered, ‘let’s hear what else he has to say.’
Pritchard glanced at them angrily.
‘Mr. Daniel Ryan was born and brought up in Ireland, and the concept of common-law marriage still prevails in Ireland.’
Sternberg only smiled, listening attentively and making occasional notes as Pritchard spoke.
Then he stood.
‘My learned friend has made a most interesting point. I regret to inform him though, that his argument is inapplicable. We must indeed accept that Mr. Daniel Ryan was born and reared in Ireland, and thus must be seen as having been an original native of that country. Mr. Pritchard might argue therefore that this leaves us with half a common-law marriage.’
The Registrar smiled.
‘But there is another more important point,’ Sternberg went on. ‘The 1753 Act most definitely does apply to Ireland. As Mr. Pritchard should be aware, the Act of Union between Great Britain and Ireland, which came into effect on the first of January, 1801, prorogued the Irish Parliament in Dublin, which means that, as of that date, Ireland was ruled directly from Westminster, and – most important – the laws of England and Wales over-rode any prior legislation of the Irish Parliament. Furthermore, Mr. Daniel Ryan was most definitely born after 1801.’
The Registrar had been scribbling notes in a large volume.
‘Go on.’
‘I would point out one other item too. This case is being heard in England, and one way or another the 1753 Act is most definitely applicable here.’
The registrar had put down his pen.
‘You’ll have to do better than this, Mr. Pritchard,’ he said. ‘I don’t like to say it, but I think you are wasting our time.’
Sternberg tapped Murtybeg on the knee. ‘I told you not to worry.
They left the court.
‘Did you see the look on Pritchard’s face,’ Murtybeg said.
‘I did,’ Sternberg said, ‘and I never expected that. Pritchard was unaware of the Act of Union.’
‘But you’d done your research.’
‘That’s what you are paying me for.’
Murtybeg clapped his hand on Sternberg’s shoulder. ‘Well, by God, you’ve done good work today and I’ll tell you something else. After all these years, I never thought I’d be glad of the Act of Union.’
The next morning, Murtybeg received Sternberg’s invoice, in an envelope marked personal. He had a cheque sent at once.
*
That afternoon, he sacked Irene. Lavan was in the room at the time and looked around in surprise.
She stood up from her desk, eyes blazing.
‘You’ll regret this,’ she said. ‘You think you know how to run a business like this. Let me tell you, you most definitely do not. You can manage it your own way, but you’ll find very soon that the contracts aren’t coming in.’
Saying that, she left.
‘By God, you’re a brave man, Murteen,’ Lavan said.
‘What choice did I have? Either we run the business, or she does.’
‘Still, she had her ways of bringing in business.’
‘Bribery, you mean,’ Murtybeg said. ‘Well, we’ve stopped all that. That isn’t the way we run the business.’
‘It mightn’t, but it worked.’
‘Worked? Look at the past month. No backhanders to anyone, and we’re still running the business.’
‘Ah yes,’ Lavan said, ‘but there’s a reason for that. Anderson and the other contractors, they reckoned all they had to do was wait. Irene had them all convinced that she would end up controlling Edwardes & Ryan. They reckoned that when she did, the payments would start again.’
Murtybeg looked at him in surprise.
‘You didn’t believe that, did you?’
‘I did,’ Lavan replied, ‘but one way or the other, it’ll be up to you now. There’s one sure way of getting contracts, and it’s for you to make use of it, whether you like it or not.
Chapter 11
New York Daily Tribune, October 1848:
The calamitous condition of the Irish People may be justly ascribed far more to the monopoly of her soil by a few capitalists than to the other oppressions of the British Government. And yet it is a monopoly many times worse, that we are asked voluntarily to create in a region sixteen times as large as all Ireland, and which seems to form almost the sole refuge which Providence has left her unhappy exiles. For my part, until I forget the history of my native country, written in the sufferings of her People, I can never contribute, by my vote or any act of mine, to the infliction of a kindred curse upon any portion of the land of our adoption; still less upon our vast Western Territory, which is capable of containing a population of an hundred millions, and in which the children of the Emigrant and the native born citizens are to mingle and to share the blessings which, in the decision of this great question, we secure to them, or the degradation and wrong which we shall inflict upon them. US politician, Robert Addis Emmet, attacks the extension of slavery into the Western States.
Michael’s letter arrived at Steuben Street.
‘Any great news?’ one of the Tourmakeady men asked.
‘Nothing great about the hunger, anyhow,’ Luke replied. ‘The same as we knew already. Says there had been patches of potatoes left across the County, but they’re all gone now. Any that were dug have rotted. The rest is family news.’
‘Bad news?’ Winnie asked.
‘It’s Danny. He’s dead.’
‘Dead!’
‘Killed himself,’ he said, flatly.
‘Killed himself! Danny? You’re telling me Danny killed himself? But how…?’
‘Stood out in front of a train.’
‘A train?’ Mick echoed. ‘Ah no, not Daniel Ryan. He was far too tough a fellow for that. It was an accident,
surely? What would he want with killing himself?’
‘Daniel Ryan?’ Seán Óg asked. ‘The railway boss, was it?’
‘The same,’ Luke said. ‘He’s dead. Killed himself.’
‘But…what was he to you?’
‘A cousin.’
Seán Óg stared at him in disbelief.
‘He was a tough man right enough,’ he said. ‘There was many a man from around Tourmakeady and the Partry Mountains knew that very well.’
‘There’s many a man would have wished him dead, too,’ one of the other Tourmakeady men said.
‘And starve at home in Partry?’ Seán Óg said. ‘What would be the good of that? The lads worked for Ryan, not out of choice, but need. What will happen now, and Ryan gone?’
He shook his head in bewilderment.
‘And you’re a cousin of his?’
‘I am,’ Luke said, ‘but sure what fault is that of mine. When I knew him, he was a decent enough fellow, but he changed. By God, he changed, as you all have cause to know.’
They spoke about it in bed that night.
‘But if Danny killed himself,’ Winnie asked, ‘what reason would he have for that?’
‘From all we can gather from what father wrote, there were two reasons. Pat reckoned that Danny was running out of money.’
‘Sure that can’t be true. All Danny would do was fire workers. That would stop the money going out quick enough.’
‘I’m not sure it was that easy, Father reckons it was to do with that woman of his. Pat had said that was the real problem. A woman that Danny couldn’t stand up to. She must be some lady.’
‘They’re hearing a lot from Pat.’
‘And there, at least, is the good news,’ Luke said. ‘Pat’s home in Mayo. He’s got a job with the County and, by God, am I glad of that. They’ll have more money coming into the farm and more to eat.’
Winnie kissed him. ‘That’s the thing about you Ryans. Hidden depths. Hard to get to know you.’
‘There were hidden depths to Danny, right enough.’
‘And what about you? Isn’t it time you told me more about the forests and New York?’
The question surprised him. Over the next few nights though, he told her much of what had happened in the quarantine sheds in Grosse Île, in the saw mills of Quebec, the fever hospitals of Montreal and in the forests along the Gatineau.
He told too of the journey to New York and of conditions in Five Points. He was surprised when she asked to visit it.
‘But there’s other parts of New York…’ he said.
‘Maybe there are,’ she said, ‘but that’s not where the Irish go, is it?’
‘Well some of them do.’
‘Stop putting me off. I want to see Five Points, and that’s an end to it.’
*
One morning, they left Liam in the care of Mrs. Gleeson again.
Winnie was weaning Liam by now, though the baby kept trying to return to the breast. He almost regarded Mrs. Gleeson as a second mother, though, and accepted Winnie’s absences without protest. Luke felt the life of a boarding house keeper was hard enough for any woman, and little Liam certainly lifted Mrs. Gleeson’s spirits. As for Winnie, a day or two away from the baby was a relief, and she was determined to understand New York and the life of the Irish in the city.
They took the Jersey City ferry to the Cortland Street terminal. Luke paid for the tickets. He had no desire to bring Winnie across the Hudson on a coal barge.
She was fascinated by the skyline. ‘Manhattan!’ she exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ said Luke, ‘and Governor’s Island just over there. That’s Castle Garden.’
‘And over there? Where’s that?’
‘Staten Island. That’s where they have the quarantine hospital.’
‘Quarantine?’
‘For the people who had fever coming in. Not half as bad as Quebec, from all we hear. Grosse Île was a living hell. Staten was bad enough but nothing compared to that.’
‘And where’s that behind Castle Garden?’
That’s the Battery. On up there, all those piers there, that’s where the boats from Boston come in. Up further, that’s for the boats from France. On up again, that’s where the ones leave going up river to Albany, top of New York State. And the boat going across up the river there, that’s the Hoboken Ferry. There’s more piers beyond, but I don’t know them.’
‘You know enough.’
They landed. Luke led her along Fulton Street, across Broadway and up William Street to Five Points. As they left Broadway behind, he could see the shock in Winnie’s eyes.
‘You were right,’ she said. ‘It’s much worse than I’d thought. Is it all like this?’
‘Pretty well. The stink isn’t as bad in the winter, when the shit is frozen. Worse after though, when it all melts again.’
They passed two children begging on the street. Winnie gave them a cent.
‘They must be cold like that.’
‘I’m sure of it,’ Luke said. ‘Not that their mother or father would give a damn.’
They had arrived at Costellos’. Winnie coughed as the fug of cigar smoke and whiskey hit her.
‘This is Costellos’?’
‘Indeed,’ Luke said, ‘one of the better bars around here.’
He saw Costello at the end of the bar.
‘Come on,’ he said to Winnie.
Costello looked up from the beer he was serving.
‘Luke…’
He glanced at Winnie. ‘I thought you had a wife back in Ireland?’
‘Sure what of that,’ Luke said. ‘A man can’t be without a woman for that length of time.’
A look of shock came across Costello’s face, then Winnie broke out laughing. Costello looked at her puzzled.
‘Well, it’s nice to know someone has been keeping an eye on him, keep him out of trouble,’ she said. ‘How do you do, Mr. Costello. I’m Mrs. Ryan. The same Mrs. Ryan you’re so concerned to defend.’
Costello’s expression changed, as he realised he had been fooled. He laughed and held out his hand. ‘Well, by God, Mrs. Ryan, you’re most welcome.’
Two whiskies were poured out. ‘Your health,’ Costello said. ‘I’m happy Luke brought you over, though I didn’t think he’d have brought you this way.’
‘Why’s that?’ Winnie asked.
‘There’s few who’ve got out of Five Points would ever admit they knew it, nor bring anyone to visit.’
‘He didn’t want me to see it,’ Winnie said, ‘and that’s the reason I wanted to. That, and understanding my own country.’
‘Your own country?’
‘Look, Mr. Costello,’ she said, ‘we all came from County Mayo. Another word for Hell. Sure we love Mayo, we love Ireland. All our families are there. Those that are living anyhow.’
‘I understand what it is you’re saying.’ Costello said. ‘But what has it to do with Five Points? Is it that you want to understand a second Irish Hell?’
‘Something like that,’ she answered. ‘And that’s something my husband would never understand. He wants we should make our way up in life, but while I’m inclined to agree with that, I also reckon we should understand where we’ve come from. Am I making sense?’
‘You are,’ Costello said. ‘A lot. You really want to see Five Points?’
‘I do.’
He opened the door behind the bar.
‘Catherine.’
Catherine came out. Yes, an attractive woman, no doubting it. It amused him to think what Costello might have thought if he had tried walking out with Catherine. Not just delivering gin or food either. To hell with all that. Winnie was here now.
Costello had introduced the two women.
‘What deliveries are you doing today?’ he asked Catherine.
‘Three bottles of gin down to Cow Bay.’
‘That’s a damned dangerous place,’ Luke said.
‘It’s alright if they have the money,’ Catherine said. ‘After tha
t it’s a rice drop-off to Mrs. Fordyce up the Old Brewery, then fifty cents to the McGifford family behind Transfiguration.’
‘The McGiffords. They’re from the Palmerston evictions, aren’t they?’ Costello asked.
‘Yes,’ Catherine answered. ‘Mrs. Fordyce is too. Somewhere around Cliffony.’
‘Be damned careful so. Now, the reason I’m telling you that is I want you to take Mrs. Ryan here along. She might not be used to that kind of thing.’
Luke went to protest.
‘No,’ Costello said, ‘she wants to see Five Points, and I say, let her see it. She won’t find a better guide than Catherine here neither. Be wary with bringing her to Cow Bay now.’
‘Dead right,’ Luke said. ‘The rest of them there, they’re sure as hell not Irish evictions. Not even Irish.’
‘No,’ Catherine said. ‘Not our people.’
*
After the two women had left, Costello poured a second whiskey.
‘She’s a sharp lady, your wife,’ Costello said. ‘You’ll go far with her.’
‘Not much further, I won’t, if you go on sending her down places like Cow Bay.’
‘It’s what she wanted. Anyhow, they’re safe enough. Catherine’s been down many times; it’s done her no harm.’
‘Not yet,’ Luke said.
‘But forget that a moment,’ Costello said. ‘Since your wife is in New York now, how long more are you intending on staying?’
‘Not long,’ Luke said.
‘So what about the Hibernians?’
‘I was going to ask you about that,’ Luke said. ‘You mentioned a branch in Cass Township, the headquarters, I think. The only problem is that Cass is a good distance from Lackan, and I doubt I’d be travelling too much if that was my branch.’
‘I wouldn’t be worrying about that,’ Costello said. ‘There’s another branch in Lackan. I’ll give you a contact.’
He took a notebook from behind the bar, and wrote a name and address.
‘This is all you’ll want. Just call on Eddie, and say John Costello sent you.’
On the ferry back to Jersey City that night, Winnie was quiet. At last, Luke nudged her.
‘Well, what did you think?’
‘What should I think? I’ll tell you this though, I never expected to see anything like that. Is this the America we all dreamed of?’
