by Charles Egan
‘I thought it should be witnessed.’
‘Just what I was going to suggest,’ Sternberg said. ‘And we might as well have two witnesses.’
He walked across to another table, and returned with a colleague.
‘This is Henry Chorlton,’ he told Murtybeg. ‘Another barrister.’
Murtybeg signed the letter, and Sternberg and Chorlton signed it as witnesses.
‘And you needn’t worry,’ Sternberg told him, ‘this will be kept safe. Very safe.’
Murtybeg walked to the station.
When he arrived in Liverpool, it was no different to what he had always known. Hundreds of Irish begging in the streets. The docks, the shipping and, amid all the commerce, the never-ending movement of passengers off the Irish ships. There were many recruits here for his navvy gangs, but that was not his reason for being in Liverpool.
Rather than take a cab, he decided to walk. Scotland Road was familiar to him, as of old, and Buckleys’ was still there, busier and shabbier than ever. Quickly, he found McCabe’s bar. He passed the scribbled address to a barman.
‘I was told to come here.’
‘Who are you looking for?’
‘A Mr. Brady.’
He was ushered into a back corridor.
‘Your name?’ the barman asked.
‘Ryan.’
‘Your full name?’
‘That’ll be enough,’ Murtybeg said firmly. ‘If you want any more, I’ll go.’
‘You’ll go nowhere,’ the barman said. ‘Just stand here and, by God, if you try to go, you’ll know the consequences.’
Murtybeg stood. Very quickly, the barman returned.
‘Mr. Brady will see you now.’
Brady was conciliatory.
‘I’m sorry if you’ve been treated with suspicion, Mr. Ryan, I’m sure you know why,’
‘I don’t know anything, Mr. Brady. All I know is that I’ve been asked to be here.’
‘Oh, there’s reason enough.’
‘There’d better be. I was approached in the street the other day by someone saying he was sent by you.’
‘Yes,’ Brady said, ‘I heard about that.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying it,’ Murtybeg said, ‘it was a damned stupid thing to do. How in hell did I know who he was? He could have been from the police, trying to set me up. I had no way of knowing.’
Brady laughed.
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Ryan. You’re suspicious of the police?’
‘Damned right, I am.’
A young woman came in carrying tea in china cups on a silver tray. No one said anything until she left.
‘Now, Mr. Ryan. The first question is – have we met? I think we have.’
‘I think so too,’ Murtybeg said. ‘I know we had been receiving assistance on bringing men in through the Port of Liverpool – paying off police and the like. I think I may have met you on one occasion then. Since then, we have dealt with your people directly.’
‘But you didn’t know my name?’
‘I may have heard it since in conversation with my brother. To be honest, it didn’t mean much, and until now, I’d not put the face and name together.’
Brady appeared to be satisfied.
‘Well, let’s leave that for now, shall we? We have other things we must discuss. But first I must say how sorry I was to hear about your brother’s death.’
‘Yes,’ Murtybeg said, ‘it was out of the blue. You knew him well, did you?’
‘Well enough. But tell me, how do you think he died?’
Murtybeg was concerned about this line of questioning.
‘The reason is clear enough,’ Murtybeg said. ‘He was run over by a train. The real question though is – how did that happen?’
‘Quite so,’ Brady said. ‘That is what we are wondering too.’
‘And who are ‘we’?’
‘We can discuss all that another time,’ Brady said, with a wave of the hand. ‘But as to how your brother died, what is your opinion?’
‘From all the evidence, and mostly that of the train driver, it would look that he killed himself. The driver says he knowingly stepped out in front of the train.’
‘He would say that, wouldn’t he?’
‘We could look at it like that, but no, I think he was right. I think Danny killed himself.’
Brady leant back in his seat.
‘Let me tell you one thing, Mr. Ryan. A week before your brother’s death, I was arrested. Had you known that?’
‘I had not,’ Murtybeg said. ‘Sure how could I know? I don’t live in Liverpool, and up to now, I’ve not known you in any real way.’
‘Well, I was. And then your brother killed himself. Can you not see the two events might be related?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ Murtybeg said. ‘There were enough reasons during the crash in the money markets for Danny to be troubled. Many of his contracts were cancelled.’
‘Well, there’s another reason,’ Brady said. ‘We reckon my arrest was because of an informer, and that that informer was your brother. And he knew that we knew about him.’
‘But…how can you prove that? It’s utterly foolish.’
‘Not so foolish, Mr. Ryan. The day after your brother’s death, I was released and one of my friends, Aidan Sheridan, was arrested in Manchester.’
‘But what would your release have to do with Danny’s death?’
‘Simple. Since he was dead, the police no longer had an informer. So the next question that occurred to them was – had your brother been murdered?’
‘But what did that have to do with this fellow Sheridan?’ Murtybeg asked.
‘Since I was in prison and I could not have done it, the police would have thought that I might have had him killed through someone else. Hence Aidan Sheridan’s arrest, following my release. They questioned him for days, but then they released him too. They had concluded that your brother had killed himself. That, at least is our understanding of matters as they now stand.’
Murtybeg stood up.
‘It seems to me that you know more about all this than I do. It’s very kind of you to give me all this information, but there’s nothing more I can add to it.’
Brady stood and put his hand on Murtybeg’s shoulder.
‘Sit down, Mr. Ryan. We’ve more to talk about.’
‘And if I don’t want to talk?’
‘You do. Believe me, you do.’
Murtybeg sat again.
‘So what do we want to talk about?’
‘Your foreman, James McManus. He was a comrade of ours.’
‘I hadn’t known that,’ Murtybeg replied. ‘Let me say though that he was, as you put it, a comrade of ours too. Not only was he a top foreman, he was also an old friend, even as far back as our school days. His murder upset us greatly.’
‘And you don’t think he killed himself?’
‘Of course, not.’ Murtybeg was getting angry again. ‘He had been shot, and there was no gun beside him.’
Brady was conciliatory again.
‘Fair enough, Mr. Ryan, and I regret if I’ve upset you. His killing upset us too. The real question is – who carried it out? Do you know?’
‘I can truthfully say that I don’t,’ Murtybeg replied. ‘There is one strong possibility though. You know, before Jamesy’s death, there was a fellow running a shebeen on that site. He was beaten up and died afterwards. You know about that?’
Brady’s eyes were impenetrable. ‘Go on.’
‘It would be a reasonable guess that Jamesy was killed in revenge. Nothing else.’
‘So who killed him?’
Murtybeg stood up again. ‘Look, you’re questioning me, and I haven’t the slightest idea. How in hell would I know? One of the fellow’s family perhaps. A friend? Who knows? Do you?’
Brady dropped his eyes.
‘We don’t. We have our suspicions though. But the question was – why Mr. McManus?’
‘Because the shebeen fellow had been on Jamesy’s
site. It would be a sensible guess that either Jamesy had beaten him up, or someone else had, acting on his orders.’
‘On your brother’s orders, perhaps?’
‘Damned if I know. Not that it matters any more. Danny is dead.’
‘So he is,’ Brady said. ‘But there is one thing I must tell you. James McManus’ death had to be avenged.’
Murtybeg was unbelieving.
‘Avenged? How in hell could it be avenged if no-one knew who killed him?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It does. I’m asking you again – did you know who killed Jamesy?’
‘We didn’t. So we chose a foreman on the next site. An English fellow. We had to set an example. As much for your sake as ours.’
‘For my sake! No, don’t include me in this. You’re saying you killed an innocent man!’
‘Justice had to be done.’
‘Let me repeat, Mr. Brady, not for my sake. All my foremen are possible targets now. If one of them dies, I’ll blame you.’
‘Which is why you need protection.’
‘Protection! How…?’
‘Very simple, Mr. Ryan. We will let them know that in future our retribution will be at the rate of three to one. That’ll stop them. Dead.’
Murtybeg shook his head. ‘And you’re serious about this?’
‘I am.’
‘There may be those who don’t care how many die. Had you thought of that?’
‘No, Mr. Ryan, it would certainly work. Three to one will stop any possible payback. There will, of course, be a charge.’
‘A charge!’
‘Protection, if you like. You pay us for your protection, you and your workers. Let us say – tuppence per man per day. How many men do you employ?’
Murtybeg stood. ‘Let me tell you Mr. Brady, there’s no question of that. You stop this now, whether there is another revenge killing or not. It’s bad enough as it is. And if I hear of any more killings of English foremen, or the like, you really will have an informer. And before you tell me about the fate of informers, the police will be informed in advance, and you’ll be up on a hanging charge. And I will testify and see you hanged.’
Brady was furious.
‘That would cost you your own life. You know that.’
‘So it might, Mr. Brady. My life for yours. If I die, the police will know by whose hand. Two dead men. Not very sensible, is it?’
‘And what if you disappear, here and now?’
‘You’ll hang anyhow. I can warn you of this. If I don’t return, there are people who will know why not. The fact of my being here is already in writing, with your name, address, and the reason why.’
‘The reason…?’
‘Yes. I said, in writing, that I was meeting you today, and if I don’t return, that you should be arrested for murder. A copy has been filed away in the Law Library, signed and witnessed by two legal counsel.’
‘You damned bastard.’
‘Call me what you like, Mr. Brady, but first, think it through. If I return, fine, you’ll never hear from me again. If I don’t, you will pay the price. If you go any further with this, you will hang for it.’
Murtybeg made for the door.
‘Mr. Ryan.’
‘Yes, Mr. Brady,’
‘Let’s forget all about it, shall we?’
‘Damned right, we shall,’ Murtybeg said.
*
He returned to Manchester, and re-visited the Law Library.
‘Just so you can see I’m still alive, Louis,’ he explained. ‘You might hold on to the letter though, in case of future necessity.’
‘Fine so,’ Sternberg said.
Murtybeg explained developments to Sternberg. Then he decided to leave the matter sit, and did not write to Crawford again. For some time, he thought that that was the end of the affair.
Then, one evening, the maid told him that there was a Mr. Crawford at the door. Murtybeg went down himself, and brought him in.
‘I hope to God no one has been watching this door,’ he said to Crawford. ‘Your just being here could set me up as an informer, you know that.’
They both sat.
‘Well,’ Crawford said, ‘you know the reason I’m here. I’d been waiting for you to get in touch. When we didn’t hear from you, I thought it best to come and see what was happening. Did you meet Gene Brady?’
‘Why should I tell you?’
‘You might need protection.’
‘Protection from the likes of you, more like. I have committed no offence. Have I?’
‘Now we’re getting a little heated, Mr. Ryan,’ Crawford said. ‘We are trying to trap a very dangerous criminal. We were, as you know, most concerned about your foreman’s murder. We know for sure that James McManus was a member of the Molly Maguire gang, as is Brady, who has already exacted his revenge. Will Brady kill again? That is what I want to know.’
‘I rather doubt that,’ Murtybeg said.
‘And why, pray, do you say that?’
‘Because I asked him not to. And if he tries it, he knows the penalty. He may threaten, but he won’t do it.’
Crawford shook his head.
‘I don’t know what to say to that,’ he said. ‘You asked him – very nicely, I’m sure – not to exact his revenge. And he agreed?’
‘Exactly,’ Murtybeg said. ‘Just so.’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘Because he knows that he would have to kill me first. He knows too, that he would hang for it.’
‘But…I don’t understand.’
‘With respect, Mr. Crawford, that is your problem, not mine.’
*
A SETTLEMENT. Murtybeg was working late one evening. The door opened, and Irene entered.
‘How did you get in?’ he asked.
‘Never mind.’
She was wearing a long black and grey dress lined with sequins, drawn tightly in at the centre to uplift her breasts.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘An understanding.’
‘An understanding!’
‘Yes. We’re wasting money on lawyers, both sides. And both of us run the risk of losing. Perhaps we should cut our losses and come to a settlement.’
‘Damned right, we should. But how?’
‘Rothwells have been in touch. Curzon & Clegg have suggested one class of settlement that would certainly work.’
‘What kind of settlement might that be?’ he asked, intrigued.
‘A marriage settlement.’
At first Murtybeg could not understand what she was suggesting. As it sank in, he gazed out at the rain, trying to hide his surprise.
‘A marriage settlement?’
‘Yes. The two of us together. It’s the only way to protect the assets of both parties.’
‘You’re saying…we should marry?’
‘I am. And it could work. Couldn’t it?’
Murtybeg was thinking fast, though he felt half hypnotised by the raindrops running down the window panes. At last he turned from the window, observing her.
She still stood erect, the taut dress outlining her figure.
‘It could,’ he said, trying hard to sound casual. ‘In fact, it could work very well indeed.’
Chapter 23
New York Herald, March 1849:
We have to report the arrival at quarantine of the British ship Cambria, the same vessel that put in under the protection of the Delaware Breakwater a few days since. She brings one hundred and fifty passengers. Since she left Ireland, seventy-eight deaths have occurred on board, and she has now on board fifty-two sick with ship fever.
The lockout caused a shock all across the coal patches.
Winnie’s reaction was to take care of Liam, and keep on at stitching shirts – their only form of income. At first, Luke was frustrated, roaming the house, and hanging out with other miners on street corners. It was still cold though, often barely above freezing, and the bitter wind made it much colder. They
stood on the lea of the shacks, blowing into their cupped hands.
One day he walked down to the Hibernian Club. Groups of men sat at the tables, but there was very little whiskey being drunk. Farrelly was there, together with Mick O’Brien and Jack Kilgallon. He went to join them. There was a heated discussion.
‘Sit down,’ Farrelly said, ‘and tell us your opinion.’
‘What is there to say?’ Luke said. ‘It’s a lockout. They want to break us.’
‘And Jack here is saying it’s not a lockout. It’s a suspension.’
‘A what?’ Luke asked.
‘A suspension,’ Jack said. ‘And it’s not what I’m saying, it’s what the Operators are saying. It’s nothing to do with us or the Union. They’re suspending mining for four weeks.’
‘In the name of God, why would they do that?’ Luke asked.
‘Because the price of anthracite in New York and Philadelphia is too low,’ Jack said.
‘Arra, that’s nonsense.’
‘They’re saying they’re losing money.’
‘That’s only a damned excuse.’
‘True or false, that’s what they’re telling us. They’re suspending all shipments for four weeks to drive the price up. They’re saying they’re losing money on every ton.’
‘Yes,’ Mick said, ‘we’ve heard that one before. It’s only a way to drive down wages. They’ve told us that it’s a choice between closing the mines and lowering wages. That’s what they’re going to do. And they’ll starve us. In four weeks’ time, we’ll agree to anything.’
‘I reckon you’re right,’ Farrelly said. ‘Sure it doesn’t matter a damn if the Operators get the prices back up. The railways will see their chance; them and the canal operators. As soon as they see higher prices, they’ll jack up the freight rates, and the Operators will still have their excuse to push wages down. No, they gave in when we had them over a barrel, but spent the next weeks plotting how to break us. Isn’t that it?’
‘And what about our strike pay?’ Luke asked. ‘We’ve all paid into the fund.’
‘The Union are saying it’s a lockout, not a strike,’ Farrelly said. ‘And I’m not sure that we have a lockout fund.’
‘But that’s mad.’
‘I know.’
Luke found it all hard to understand. All the talk of markets and freight rates had confused him. He had seen the lockout simply as a way to break the Union and the miners’ resolve. He reckoned that was still true, whatever the Operators might say. But the Union’s attitude to strike pay disturbed him even more.
