The Exile Breed

by Charles Egan

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Sent out invitations?’

  ‘No, though there’s a few that know. Murtybeg, and he’ll have told mother and father by now. The gangers know too. But what of that? Roy Anderson is the only other one who knows.’

  ‘We’ve no choice then. We’ll have to push it back. A few months at least.’

  ‘I agree.’

  Danny felt relieved.

  Even before the arrival of the Brassey letter, he knew that labour was becoming tighter as the demand for navvies soared around the country.

  Every week he sent his brother to Liverpool to recruit. Murtybeg did this directly off the cattle boats coming in from Dublin or the West of Ireland, with hundreds of starving Irish mingling among the cattle. Sometimes, if they wanted stronger men, Murtybeg would go direct to Liverpool Workhouse, which was desperate to get the flood of Irish paupers out of the Workhouse, and preferably sent home to Ireland. Murtybeg gave them another welcome option. He packed all his recruits into railway wagons, and brought them back to Danny’s Works on the railways around Manchester or Stockport.

  Here, Danny paid them marginally more than they had been earning on the Famine Relief Works back in County Mayo, slowly paying them more as they became stronger. Still it was less, far less, than English or Welsh navvies were being paid.

  Often, the stronger Irish navvies drifted away to better paid work, but up to now, that had been of no great concern to Danny. There were, after all, hundreds of likely recruits coming into Liverpool every day. But Danny’s need for labour was increasing faster than before.

  The real key to his business was Mayo. The county had been badly hit by the Famine, far worse than any other Irish county. It had been bad in the east of the county, especially in the Ox Mountains, bordering County Sligo. But Mayo suffered most from the Irish Famine, and west Mayo worst of all. Men from these districts were the men Murtybeg was searching for when he visited Liverpool. He knew the accents, he could distinguish the accents of East and West Mayo. This was vital to Murtybeg and Danny.

  Danny knew that he already had a savage reputation on the west coast of Mayo. This did not concern him. As long as he was not recruiting underpaid men from east Mayo, especially Kilduff, Carrigard and the area around, his family and friends had no reason to complain.

  The savage conditions at Little Ireland might be of more concern to him, since many of the inhabitants were from County Mayo. They were not the kind of people to write home though, and Danny doubted that many would hear of his involvement, particularly since his ganger on the site was not from Mayo. In any case, fever would kill most of them.

  Little Ireland had been settled by dirt poor Irish emigrants from the mid-1820s, and by 1847 conditions were appalling, with hundreds of people crammed in tiny rooms and cellars, which, combined with the filth of the surroundings, gave it one of the highest death rates in England. Now it was to be flattened for the railway. Where the inhabitants would go, was a question that occurred to few.

  The work here consisted of more than railway cuttings. First, the houses had to be demolished. To do that, the occupants had to be evicted. Danny’s half-starved navvies were incapable of this, and he was content with this. Evictions he left to the police, but after the evictions, the demolitions were carried out by his own gang. It was dangerous work. On occasions, the buildings collapsed without warning. There had been many injuries on site, but, as yet, no deaths.

  A second problem Danny had was that he had to find a special ganger. Finding Steele had been the key to working the site at Oxford Road.

  He could not use any of the men he knew from Mayo. Many of the people being evicted came from Mayo themselves, often victims of previous evictions in Ireland. Through contacts, and contacts of contacts, he finally located Samuel Steele, a hard-bitten ganger from Dublin. Where he was originally from, Danny had no idea, but he spoke in a guttural northern Irish dialect when necessary. He had never visited County Mayo in his life, and never wished to. Nor did he involve himself with any other activities of Danny’s business beyond Oxford Road. He was the only ganger who never attended the meetings in Stockport, and Danny had no wish that he should.

  Danny suspected that Steele was a Freemason, and if he was, this was an advantage. Edwardes & Ryan had to have a close relationship with the police, and many of these were rumoured to be Freemasons too. They had no qualms about carrying out evictions, nor even guarding Danny’s gang from the wrath of the evictees.

  One irony of the Oxford Road site was that in the worst area for joblessness in Manchester, Danny could use none of the locals. They would not assist in evicting them themselves. Even here, he was still left with the problem of finding enough labour.

  There was a knock on his office door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Three men entered and sat the table.

  Most of Danny’s gangers were from Kilduff and Carrigard. These were the men that Danny knew from his own time working as a navvy on the English railways in the early 1840s. They were men he respected, and it was from here he recruited his gangers to supervise the West Mayo navvies working on his contracts. Roughneen, Lavan and McManus were among the best in England, each supervising a single stretch of railway, mostly running gangs of a hundred men or more.

  ‘Your reports, gentlemen,’ Irene said. McManus looked at her in surprise. He glanced at Danny, who nodded. McManus handed his report to Irene. She skimmed through it.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this report, Mr. McManus’ she said, abruptly. ‘We’re behind time on this contract.’

  ‘There are reasons for that,’ McManus said.

  ‘Picks? Shovels? Wagons? You’re not undersupplied, are you?’

  McManus glared at her.

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘It’s a shortage of workers, that’s our problem. The stronger fellows, they’re drifting off to the other contractors. They’re paying up to three shillings a day now.’

  ‘Three shillings!’ Danny exclaimed.

  ‘They’re desperate for workers.’

  ‘They won’t last long, paying three shillings,’ Irene commented. ‘Not if we’re paying a shilling and thruppence at the top end. We are, aren’t we?’

  ‘We are,’ McManus answered.

  Danny had been flicking through the reports.

  ‘So what do you fellows suggest?’

  ‘We need more cheap workers and a hell of a lot of them,’ McManus said. ‘That was never a problem before, was it?’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ said Danny, ‘but it seems it is now. And it’ll be a hell of a lot more of a problem if we get more contracts.’

  ‘You’re bidding for more?’ Roughneen exclaimed.

  ‘One or two,’ Danny said, not wishing to mention the Brassey contract yet. ‘I don’t want too many contracts until I know we have the cash and the workers. If the other fellows are paying three shillings a day, they won’t last long, and we might be taking over bankrupt contracts too.’

  He handed the report sheets back to each of the gangers.

  Lavan glanced through his sheet. ‘What about your brother?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t seen him lately.’

  ‘No,’ Danny replied, ‘Murtybeg has been over in Mayo. I’m expecting him back soon though. We’ll send him back to Liverpool as soon as we see him. Scour the Docks and the Workhouse and make sure all of you have cheap labour. We must complete these contracts on time. Our good name depends on it.’

  ‘What’s he in Mayo for?’ Roughneen asked.

  ‘He’s bringing my mother and father over here.’

  ‘The Master!’ Lavan exclaimed. ‘But…’

  ‘The school has closed.’

  ‘Closed!’

  ‘They’re building new schools in Ireland now,’ Irene said. ‘They’re using trained teachers.’

  Roughneen, Lavan and McManus looked at each other. Their own knowledge of reading, writing, calculating, and even the English language, had come from hard years of study under Danny’s father i
n Carrigard. That was one of the key reasons they were gangers, paid six shillings a day. That – and the fact they had been known and trusted by Danny for all their lives.

  ‘But what will the Master do?’ Roughneen asked.

  ‘Work here, I’m hoping. Accounts and the like. He’s an able man. As well you know.’

  ‘So it’ll be a while before we see Murtybeg again,’ Lavan said. ‘What will we do for workers in the meantime?’

  ‘Just wait,’ Danny replied. ‘Murtybeg should be here in a few days, a week at the most. We’ll send him to Liverpool straight away.’

  The men rose to go.

  ‘Oh, one other thing,’ Danny said, as they made their way to the door. ‘I think some of ye knew that Irene and I were to be wed.’

  Roughneen smiled. ‘So we had. We’re still waiting for the date.’

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you, it’ll be a while yet. With all our labour problems, and the new contracts we’re bidding on, we just don’t have time to arrange it.’

  When the others had left, Danny spent some time going through accounts with Irene, bringing the figures for each of the Works up to date. She carried them out to the clerk in the next room, instructing him to make two ‘fair copies’.

  Then they checked the figures on the Brassey contract.

  ‘This could be very profitable,’ Irene exclaimed.

  ‘It could,’ Danny said.

  ‘I wonder what they’re paying the rest of their workers.’

  ‘Twice what we are,’ Danny replied. ‘More.’

  ‘So it’ll still be profitable, even after allowing for contingencies.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Contingencies. Extra costs we don’t expect.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Danny asked, still unsure. ‘Like what?

  ‘Over-runs. Anything that takes longer than usual, or uses more carts than you might expect. Also back-handers.’

  ‘Back-handers?’ Danny exclaimed, astonished again. ‘What the devil…?’

  ‘Kickbacks. Special payments.’

  ‘We’d hardly have that with Brassey,’ Danny said.

  ‘I don’t think so. It’s the other ones though, Peto and the like. They might accept back-handers. Though it could be more useful to know what our competitors are bidding. Then we just undercut.’

  ‘And how would you find that out?’ he asked.

  ‘Never mind. Just tell me what other contracts we’re bidding, apart from Brassey.’

  ‘A cutting at Ormskirk, on the East Lancashire Line. The invitation to tender just came in this morning.’

  ‘That’s Mackenzie, isn’t it? He’s the main contractor on the East Lancashire.’

  ‘He is,’ Danny said. ‘Another top contractor.’

  ‘Not in Brassey’s league yet.’

  ‘Not quite, but even so…’

  ‘Baxendales are bidding Mackenzie for the labour on the Ormskirk Cutting. They’re the competition on this one.’

  Danny knew well who Baxendales were. An English labour contractor, far bigger than Edwardes & Ryan. They had a worksite alongside McManus’ site.

  ‘I don’t know if they are or not,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not asking you, Danny,’ Irene said. ‘I’m telling you.’

  ‘But…what…Baxendales! How in hell do you know that?’

  She ignored the question.

  ‘They’ve come in at just over seven thousand pounds, and I understand that’s the lowest. So if we bid, say, six thousand, seven hundred, we’ll get the contract. And at our wage rates, there’ll be a good profit on that, even allowing for contingencies.’

  ‘Irene, how in the name of God, do you know all this?’

  She met his eyes, challenging him.

  ‘Not for you to know, Danny. The less you know, the better. Then if anyone asks you, you’ll be able to deny all knowledge, and you won’t be lying.’

  Danny shook his head in total bewilderment.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about Baxendales.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘Just trust me,’ she replied.

  They worked well into the night. When the calculations were finished, they made two copies of every document.

  It was only when Danny was totally convinced of his facts and figures that he decided to talk to the Manchester & Salford Bank. He wrote, requesting a meeting. A response came two days later, suggesting a meeting the following day.

  He went to Stockport station and took the train to Manchester Piccadilly. He walked through the rain, sheltering his satchel of documents under his greatcoat, to the Head Office of the Manchester & Salford in Mosley Street.

  ‘Mr. Ryan. How good to meet you. James Winrow.’

  Danny slipped off his greatcoat.

  ‘We haven’t met.’

  ‘Not yet. The directors have appointed me to your account.’

  They commenced work at once.

  ‘Looking for further loans, Mr. Ryan?’

  ‘Yes, but not today. We’re considering a few new contracts, and I’ll need to know I’ll have your backing for whatever we get.’

  Winrow leant back in his chair.

  ‘I see. And how is the business going to date?’

  Danny slipped the original of the accounts across the desk.

  ‘These are the accounts for the year so far,’ he explained. ‘Six months only, but as you can see, we’re making good money.’

  Winrow checked the figures.

  ‘The bottom line seems quite satisfactory.’

  ‘To be honest, it should be better,’ Danny said. ‘We’ve been slipping behind on one of our contracts. Nothing dangerous, we will finish on time. We’ve a good name for delivering on time, and we must keep that.’

  ‘Any reason for being behind?’

  ‘We’ve been low on workers. My brother is in charge of finding workers. He’s been in Ireland for a few weeks. As soon as he arrives, he’ll be going back to Liverpool to find more workers. We’ll need at least a hundred for the present contracts, probably another four hundred to start for the new contracts.’

  ‘New contracts?’

  Danny hesitated. Best to start with the less important contract perhaps, and see how Winrow reacted.

  ‘Peto’s agents have been in touch with us. Mackenzie’s too. And others. They’re all anxious for us to bid on new contracts, but I don’t want to give them hard figures yet.’

  ‘Where might the contracts be?’

  ‘There’s this cutting at Ormskirk, on the East Lancashire line. Just north of Liverpool. Mackenzie is the main contractor. That’s where I’d have the best chance of having my bid accepted. At a good profit of course.’

  Danny laid another sheet in front of Winrow.

  ‘These are very rough figures on some of what we’re bidding.’

  Winrow looked down the sheet.

  ‘This is a big one? Think you can handle it?’

  ‘I can,’ Danny replied. ‘But only if we have the backing of the Manchester & Salford Bank.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Winrow said, without commitment. ‘Let’s see what else you’re bidding.’

  ‘This one here, this is the most interesting. The one we have to get. The one we will get.’

  He handed the Brassey contract documents to Winrow, who scanned the first page.

  ‘The North Staffordshire. Yes, I know…What! Twenty two thousand pounds. Who…?’

  ‘Brassey.’

  Winrow glanced up at Danny.

  ‘Brassey wants you to act as a labour contractor?’

  ‘I won’t say we’re certain, Mr. Winrow. He may have approached other fellows too. But I doubt it. And this is the biggest chance Edwardes & Ryan have ever had.’

  Winrow shook his head, still astonished. ‘And your own costings?’

  ‘I scribbled a few figures down for you.’

  He slipped the calculations across the desk.

  ‘This will be most profitable,’ Winrow said.

  ‘
It will, won’t it?’

  ‘What will you bid?’

  ‘No need to bid,’ Danny said. ‘Brassey doesn’t work that way. Twenty two thousand pounds is his figure. All we have to do is accept.’

  ‘So what loans do you need?’

  ‘Three thousand pounds should cover the Ormskirk Cutting for Mackenzie. The Brassey contract could be as much as five thousand.’

  ‘A lot for one single contract.’

  ‘It is. Brassey takes time to pay. But we know he will pay.’

  ‘Indeed, Mr. Ryan. So you are looking for eight thousand in all?’

  ‘Exactly. So the question now is – will we have the approval of the Manchester & Salford?’

  ‘I can’t say as yet, Mr. Ryan. I will discuss these projections with the board. You are well regarded within the bank. The one problem I foresee though, is that this Mackenzie contract, together with the Brassey one, would represent far too big a risk for the bank, especially with a new business such as yours. It may be necessary to drop one.’

  ‘In that case, I would have to say the Brassey contract is by far the most important,’ Danny said.

  ‘Yes, I can understand that. Let’s work on that one, shall we, and see if we can convince the board? It is definitely the contract that would be of most interest to them.

  When Danny returned to Stockport that evening, he spent an hour with Irene, telling her of Winrow’s responses.

  ‘The good news is regarding the Brassey contract. Winrow seems sure the bank will support it. I think in fact, he was surprised when I mentioned it to him.’

  ‘He doesn’t know much about Brassey so,’ Irene said. ‘From what I hear, Brassey’s are using many Irish labour contractors. Maybe he reckons we’re the best.’

  ‘Maybe he does. One way or the other, it impressed him.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘We have to wait ’till we get confirmation from the bank.’

  ‘So while we’re waiting, what of the Ormskirk?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll lend on it.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘They just won’t do it.’

  ‘Did he tell you why not?’

  ‘It’s just to do with the bank. Winrow reckons one contract of this kind of size would be enough for us. They won’t lend on both. So when pushed to it, I said the Brassey contract was by far the most important, and I’m sure you’d agree with that. The Ormskirk is not as vital to us as the Brassey contract, even with Mackenzie as contractor. The bank have great confidence in us, but they think we’re still new to contracting. They want us to take it slowly. They still see us as unproven.’