The Pirate Princess: Return to the Emerald Isle

by Matthew Morris

  Deirdre’s Irish accent made playing princess a totally new experience for Meg. When Meg pronounced Beauty’s name, Belle, it sounded just like the word bell. When Deirdre said the word Belle, however, it wasn’t a plain, flat pronunciation. It gained an extra vowel sound, like baell, and also dipped and rose in tone. Many of the words spoken by Meg’s new Irish friends were the same she used, but they had a musical tone she had never heard before. And, although her grandmother spoke with an Irish accent, over the years it had lost much of the unique character it must have had when she first arrived in America.

  When the Davin family sat down for dinner, Meg had picked up enough of the Irish accent that she didn’t miss a word that was said. Declan told them all about his shortened fishing day and kidded Meg about her skills rowing a currach. Trout’s brother Dennis asked her many questions about America. Unfortunately, television shows were their only glimpse of American culture, and Dennis had a lot of misconceptions about American life which Meg tried to explain away as much as she could, given her young age.

  Trout and Meg told the family about their adventure at the Fort and her newly discovered link to Granuaile. Trout’s mother was particularly interested in the connection as she was apparently a big fan of Granuaile. While they ate, Nell told them more tales of Granuaile. The most amazing story of all was about the time Grania sailed to London, England. There she went up the Thames River to the royal palace, where she requested a personal meeting with England’s Queen Elizabeth.

  At the time of Grania, Connacht for the most part was still Irish, although some of the larger towns and cities such as Galway were controlled by the English. Often, this control was held by Anglo-Normans who had assimilated into their surroundings and had some Irish leanings. The so-called Tribes of Galway were a group of these Anglo-Normans, and had been having a long-time problem with Granuaile. Much of their animosity towards her was because, as a harbor city, the Galway tribes imposed tariffs and taxes on the ships and traders within their walls and, when those same people left the harbor, Granuaile taxed them again for going through her waters. This led to many fights between the tribes and the O’Flahertys and Grania, and eventually resulted in the sign that was erected at the gates of the city.

  Grania was a very smart woman. She knew which way the political tide was moving, and offered her army to the English early on to help them in any way they wanted. Granuaile didn’t act out of love for the English but rather used her cunning and guile to always remain a step ahead of her enemies. Because of this she gained favor with the Lord Deputy of Ireland, and when the tribes went to Dublin to formally accuse her of piracy because of the taxes she collected, their accusation was largely ignored.

  Granuaile’s ships patrolled the waters around much of Ireland, raiding castles and ships and then disappearing into the many hidden coves and bays on the Irish coast. She controlled and exercised her power from the many castles and fortresses in the northwest part of Ireland where she was out of the reach of any English influence. The O’Malleys and Grania had things under control until a new foe entered the picture.

  A newly appointed Governor of Connacht, Richard Bingham, attempted to gain more control over the local lords. One way he tried to do this was by offering English titles and lands to the Irish chieftains in his territory. Many accepted those offers, but never the O’Malleys or the O’Flahertys, and this infuriated Bingham. As Granuaile’s power and influence grew, Bingham made many attempts at removing her but he was never successful. He declared her the biggest threat in Connacht to the English, and in his reports to the crown had even called her “nurse to all rebellions” all over Ireland. The governor soon declared war on her family. In 1593 Richard Bingham tricked and killed Granuaile’s oldest son Owen and imprisoned her other sons, Tibbot and Murrough, along with her half-brother Donal-na-Pioppa.

  Grania was sixty-three years old at the time and, although still feisty, she was getting tired of the constant battling and came up with an idea to save herself and her family. She decided that the only way to stop Bingham was to go over his head to his boss, Queen Elizabeth of England. She set sail for London to demand a meeting queen to queen.

  Upon her arrival in London, Granuaile’s connection to the Lord Deputy of Ireland came in handy again, and he was able to help her arrange the meeting. Grania was sent of series of questions from the queen, which she thoughtfully answered and returned. The queen must have liked what she read because a meeting was scheduled shortly after, at Elizabeth’s palace in Greenwich.

  At the appointed time, the accused pirate queen entered the court of Queen Elizabeth dressed in a fine gown. In spite of her age and fine clothes, she was escorted into the queen’s chamber under heavy guard due to her reputation. The room, filled with courtiers and guards, fell into silence as Granuaile approached with her head held high. The lords and ladies waited with baited breath in anticipation of the first words of the notorious woman. Grania broke the silence with a sneeze and one of the noblemen extended a delicate silk handkerchief, which she accepted. Grania blew her nose loudly into the cloth and then threw it into the fire. Everyone gasped with indignation. Grania looked around at all the fancy people and told them that, in her country, they did not keep such soiled things, underhandedly insulting those present. She further amazed the crowd by walking up to address the queen without first bowing. Grania intentionally did not bow because she did not recognize Elizabeth as a superior, but rather as an equal.

  Queen Elizabeth was extremely interested in this woman before her, and none of Grania’s egregious behavior prevented the meeting from proceeding. The queen welcomed her, and the two powerful women, who were nearly the same age, sat down for a chat. No one knows what was said between them, but Elizabeth must have taken to the sea queen, because Granuaile emerged from the meeting with a letter that directed Bingham to free her family and to leave her and her kin alone for the rest of her days.

  “I have read about Queen Elizabeth in my history books and even saw a movie about her. Why haven’t I ever heard about Granuaile?” Meg asked aloud.

  Trout’s father said, “’cause history is written by the victors, not the vanquished.”

  Trout spoke up, “Granuaile is famous in Ireland. She has been written about in story and in song since her time, and is even in the old rebel song ‘Óró, Sé do Bheatha 'Bhaile.’ Do you know it?”

  Meg shook her head no and Trout sang:

  “Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile,

  Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda,

  Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh,

  Is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh.”

  Trout had a nice singing voice. When he finished, Meg teased, “I thought you couldn’t speak Irish.”

  “I can’t, but I do know a couple of songs. It means: Grania the Bald is coming over the sea, armed warriors along with her as her guard, they are Irishmen, not French nor Spanish... And they will rout the foreigners!”

  Trout’s parents beamed with pride at their son’s knowledge. As they finished their meal Meg was bubbling over with excitement from all the information she had just heard. “I can’t believe I’m related to such a famous woman!”

  “You’d better be careful who you tell this to, Meg, especially our friend Alonzo. He seems to have a hate for your relative.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All of that sea witch stuff he said. I swear that, every time he spoke her name today, he wanted to spit on the ground.”

  “I wonder why,” Meg asked aloud.

  They spent the rest of the night talking of castles and battles and the plight of the Irish. Trout’s family was very well educated and proud of their heritage and taught Meg a lot. She thought it was one of the best days of her life. When it was time to go to sleep, Meg headed to Deirdre’s room and got into bed with the compendium still hanging around her neck. She had decided she wanted to keep it on all of the time now, no matter how big or heavy it was.

  21

&
nbsp; A Sad Day

  There must be something about the air on an Irish island because that night Meg had the most vivid dream of her life. She was standing on the deck of a Galway hooker. Its crimson sails billowed overhead. She took out the compendium and held it up to take a course reading. In the sun, it shined like a golden mirror as she dialed coordinates into the volvelle. The deck was heaving up and down in heavy Atlantic swells, and Meg yelled out orders to her crew, who readily obeyed. She looked out to starboard and saw a corsair ship rapidly approaching, and called out to her crew to be on the ready for battle. The dark-skinned captain of the corsair was standing on the bow of his ship, calling for her to hand over her treasure. She yelled back defiantly “Never!” and turned the tiller hard to the right to ram her foe. Then she woke up.

  The Davins were sitting at the table eating breakfast when Meg walked in. Her head still awash in her dream, Meg did not notice that they were all nicely dressed. They told her that the fog had lifted at some time during the night and Shay was on her way back to Inishbofin. After breakfast they walked down to the harbor to meet the ferry and her.

  The argument that had separated them and Meg’s anger toward her mother for taking a ferry had all but washed away. In fact, she was so excited she could not wait to see her mom step foot on the pier so she could run up, hug her, and tell her all about her discovery. Her plan for the day was to walk out to the castle with her mom and see if they could find some clues as to where the treasure might be or the entrance to the secret chamber.

  The sky was grey and the water dark and choppy. Meg kept glancing at the castle the whole walk over, unable to take her eyes off it as they waited on the pier. They were going to find the treasure, she knew it. The ferry came around the lighthouse next to the fort and slowly entered the harbor. There were a lot of people standing at the pier and Meg wondered why. Trout said nothing, but his mother and father greeted most of the people there with a solemn hello. Then she saw it. On the deck of the ferry, her mother was standing next to a wooden casket with a flag of dark red and white draped over it. Trout told her the flag was the colors of Galway and that nothing would be open on the island that day. Owen was coming home to be buried, and his people were there to greet him.

  Six men, including Declan, walked to the end of the dock and hoisted the casket above their shoulders. They carried it down the pier, past the onlookers, and towards the church. The islanders joined the slow procession. Shay was following the casket, and when they went past the waiting Davins, she reached out for Meg and they walked together in silence. People standing on the road bowed their heads when the procession walked by. Meg looked up to her mom and saw she had tears in her eyes. Meg started crying too.

  St. Colman’s church was not far from the pier. As they approached the church, Meg saw more people standing outside waiting. At the back of the crowd, wearing his fedora hat, she noticed Alonzo Woods. He held up his hand in greeting, but she didn’t wave back.

  They were ushered into the chapel. It was painted in bright red, blue, and yellow. The stained glass windows shed what little light they could, given the overcast day. Church was something the Murphys rarely attended back home, except on special religious holidays and for an occasional baptism, mostly because Shay and Mark always had work to do on Sundays.

  The smoke of incense hung in the air as the priest said the funeral mass. Towards the end, the priest recounted the first time he met The O’Flaherty.

  Owen was walking the shore as was his custom, and the priest asked why he did what he did. “I’m waitin’ and watchin,” was his reply. “For what?” asked the priest. “For my Kathleen to come home.”

  The mention of Owen waiting for Nanny to return to him sent Meg and Shay into hysterics. They held onto one another crying convulsively and they heard more wailing from the people gathered behind them.

  He was looking for Nanny, not her brother, Meg thought. I don’t ever want to get so mad at my mom that I never talk to her or see her again.

  After the service the pall bearers carried the casket back down to the pier where the Cailín Mo Chroí was now tied up. Meg was not sure what was going on, and asked, “Mommy, what’s happening?”

  “We’re taking him to his home where he grew up. That’s where he wanted to be buried.”

  The men carefully loaded the casket on the boat and tied it down. Declan, Trout, the priest, and a few other men stayed on the boat and helped Meg and Shay on board. Just before they cast off from the pier, Meg could not believe her eyes. They hoisted white sails on the Galway hooker. Someone must have changed the sails at some point over night because when Meg rowed past it the day before, it still had red sails.

  “He was a king” Meg whispered to Trout.

  “He was The O’Flaherty, the last man of his clan.”

  They sailed out of the harbor and turned right following the shore towards the island that was just south of Inishbofin. Trout told Meg it was called Inishark, or Shark, for short. It was a deserted island whose last inhabitants were evacuated by the Irish Government in 1960. The Shark islanders were forced to leave their home because there was no good harbor on the island, and they would sometimes go months without aid from the mainland when the weather was stormy. Many of the younger islanders had emigrated and the aging population was too much of a liability for the government. The Shark islanders were all given land on the coast, and it has been uninhabited ever since.

  When the boat neared the island they dropped the sails and rowed the last hundred yards to a tiny, shallow cove with a small, rocky ramp at the end protected by a dilapidated sea wall. Meg could see that in any kind of bad weather it would be impossible to land here, and she wondered how hard it must have been to live on Shark.

  Shark was a big hill of an island beaten by the wind and waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Due to the absence of a good harbor, the Shark islanders had led an isolated existence compared to their close neighbor to the north. At the head of the cove where they had come in, Meg saw a rusted old hand winch on the hill. It must have once been used to pull the boats up on shore. The men on board tied the hooker to the old pier. They then hoisted the casket on their shoulders and marched slowly through deserted fields where only sheep roamed. As they walked, Trout told Meg that Bofin islanders still used Shark for grazing their animals. They walked past roofless cottages, long ago abandoned, until they reached the ruins of a church that was surrounded by weather-beaten gravestones.

  The church, they were told, was called St. Leos. It had been built on the site of a seventh-century monastery that was founded by a monk named Leo. It had been a very small church from what was left of it. The priest told them that, in the church’s heyday, the Shark Island women would carry their own stools to church on Sundays, as there were no pews in St. Leos. The men used to stand along the outside walls during the service.

  The pall bearers lowered the casket into a freshly dug grave that overlooked the ocean. The priest splashed holy water over it as they said a final prayer for Owen O’Flaherty, the last in his family line. Everyone present helped throw the dirt back onto the grave. Meg looked out to the Atlantic Ocean so loved by her family—it seemed even wilder here. Inishark had quite a different feel from Bofin. It occurred to Meg that they were standing on the edge, on the very last bit of Ireland before it met the vast, wide ocean. The mood was somber and the wind whipped everyone as they worked to cover the grave. After the last shovelful was thrown, Meg felt the mood change and the men began to smile.

  “A long life is to be celebrated, not mourned,” Declan declared as they walked back to the boat. When they reached the pier, one of the men told Meg and Shay that they had to take the white sails down and put the red sails back up. Knowing this would take some time, Meg and her mom wandered off to take a look inside one of the cottages that still had a roof.

  The front door was hanging loosely on a rusted hinge. Shay carefully pushed the door open to reveal a cottage identical to Owen’s back on Bofin. A chair was pulled up
to an empty fireplace and dusty cabinets lined the walls. A solitary plate rested on the table in the same spot where it had been left many years ago.

  “Most took all they could when they left, but some left it all,” Trout said. He had entered the cottage behind them. “They didn’t want anything that reminded them of home when they was evacuated.”

  The three said nothing as they wandered around the deserted island, listening only to the sound of the wind. The image of the abandoned cabin stayed with Meg as they traveled back to Bofin under the red sails.

  22

  A Strange Offer

  It seemed that all of the people who lived on Bofin Island came out to celebrate the life of Owen O’Flaherty. The pub was packed. Men and women were seated in groups, talking about the news of the day, and kids were running around everywhere, excited at the big gathering. In a corner of the pub a group of musicians was playing lively music. Everyone swayed and tapped their feet to the rhythm.

  Shay and Meg sat at a table with the Davins, who entertained them with more stories of Inishbofin. Declan told them that Owen really didn’t speak to many people on Bofin, but he had managed to get a story from him now and then.

  Long ago, Owen’s family had fled to Shark to hide from the English. It was the perfect place because of the difficulty landing on its shores. Owen traveled the world captaining ships, and on one particularly stormy day he was forced to stay on Bofin until conditions permitted him to land back at his home on Shark. He was walking along the beach in the West Quarter, looking out at the unreachable Shark Island, when he happened upon his future wife. He fell madly in love. Owen was so in love, he moved to Inishbofin to be with her and they soon married. With raised eyebrow, Meg shot Trout a glance at the mention of her great grandmother.

  A little old man in a tweed hat got up from his chair. A hush fell on those gathered as they knew what was coming. The man sang a sad song of a young immigrant who had left Ireland for America. Each song verse told the story of letters sent back and forth between the young man and the family he had left behind. And each verse ended with the man promising he will soon return home to visit, but he never does. Everyone in the pub nodded their heads in understanding, as no family on Bofin had been spared the sorrow of losing a family member to the dream of a better life through immigration.